#hope it came across successfully that all these friendships and all friendships are on the same level as romantic relationships actually

[quatregats]

There’s been a lot of (very excellent!) discussion recently about Brigid and Stephen and how much she’s loved, and I feel like that’s a very good segue into a topic which I’ve been musing over for a while: namely, Patrick O’Brian’s treatment of love in general. Because honestly I feel like one of the things that’s most captivated me about the Aubreyad in general is the sheer amount of love it contains, the vast majority of which is (canonically, at least) non-romantic, and I think that the further I get into the series, the more that strikes me.

Like honestly I cannot even begin to explain how incredibly good POB is at portraying loving relationships, whether they’re friendships, marriages, or parents and children (/surrogate parent and child, as the case may be). I’m actually genuinely not sure if I’ve ever read something like it. I think that a lot of media really struggles with platonic relationships, which is a question that probably deserves a 400-page thesis about it and that I’m not really qualified to answer, but the Aubreyad somehow manages to create relationships that are all so imbued with love that it genuinely does not matter whether or not the people in them are in love or not. While I’m certainly here for reading Stephen and Jack as a romantic relationship, there’s a certain point where I actually don’t care whether or not they’re friends or lovers, because the complexities of what they feel for each other and what they mean in each other’s lives is just as deep either way. And all the relationships in the book are like that: Bonden and the Surprises looking after Stephen, Jack with Mowett and Pullings, Stephen and Sophie, and on and on into infinity.

I think the thing that makes me the most insane about this is that these relationships all feel so unbelievably, viscerally real. The love that’s stored there is the same sort of love that I feel for the people in my own life, with all the inevitable disagreements and exasperation and imperfection that it comes with. I think it’s incredibly difficult to capture that exact feeling in writing, and yet somehow he’s managed to do it. There’s been so much talk about the way in which people in our day and age and media in general struggle to talk about friendship and platonic relationships as meaningful, and I’m not saying that just any writer could go out and weave a tapestry so complex as the Aubreyad does, but reading these books is like a balm for that. There’s something so reassuring in knowing that a romantic relationship is not the be-all-end-all for any of the characters in these books, no matter how you look at it. Each of them is surrounded by a web of people who are deeply implicated in their existence and who truly care what happens to them.

I think fiction, by its nature of needing to bring characters in to serve a role in a linear plot, doesn’t often leave room for love of this kind, and I don't want to be critical of that, because not all narratives can be like the one Patrick O'Brian's written (which is 100% okay—it should be that way, that's how narratives work!). But there’s something so healing about reading a story in which all of the characters are so deeply loved. It’s like a mirror; looking into it, you can see your own relationships, and by extension, just how loved you are, even if most of the time you don’t realize it. Humans are not lonely creatures, and no one captures that better than Patrick O’Brian.

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

You Like Me? - Matt Sturniolo

Part Two Pairings; bsf!Matt x bsf!Reader Summary; After Chris & Nick convince Matt to go to a party with them, he overdoes it and has to carried home. The night ends in a silly drunken confession. Wc; 1458 Warnings; fluff 🥰 strong language, mentions of alcohol use, vomitting, A.n; This is my first imagine & third post. Check out my Matt & Chris hc!! All reactions are highly appreciated ❤️ Current Matt series - City of Love

"Chris, you have to hold him up," Nick complains to his brother. You guys were coming in from a fun night out, after finally convincing their introverted brother to tag along, with the help of yourself of course.

You fumbled with the key, trying to put it in the keyhole but failing once again.

"C'mon Y/n, this man is fucking dead weight back here," Chris groans. You look over your shoulder to see a flustered, yet aggravated expression etched across his face. Poor guy.

Matt overdid it and had way too many shots tonight which was odd because you'd think he would've been completely out of his comfort zone, making him not want to drink at all but it did the complete opposite. Little did you know the only reason he even came out tonight was because you were going to be there and he couldn't bear the thought of sitting at home alone, not knowing if another guy was flirting with you or not. That and he had plans to let the liquid courage help him confess his feelings for you tonight. The feelings he had been dying to tell you since the third month of your friendship, when he actually figured it out it wasn't just attraction he had towards you.

You felt bad seeing the boys struggle to hold him up, each one of Matt's arms draped over their shoulders as he lets all of his weight hang at his feet. You quickly mumble a sorry before successfully sticking the key in the keyhole and unlocking the door. You push it open, stepping aside so you aren't in the way, going in behind them and closing it.

"Birds of a feather, we should stick together," you hear your best friend sing as his brothers drag him down the hall to his room. You throw your head back laughing as you stumble out of your heels. Matt already threw up twice - once at the party and another time in the car. It was in serious need of a detailing this week.

"Oh my fucking-," you hear Nick shout from Matt’s bedroom, "gross!" His voice is quickly followed by gut wrenching gags from Matt, or maybe it was one of his brothers. All you knew is that someone was puking so you raced down the hall, your own drunken haze wearing you down causing you to go slower, stumbling over your own two feet.

You turn the corner of Matt's bedroom, seeing him slumped over his bedside trash bin, emptying his stomach, for the third time tonight. Your motherly instincts kick in and you make your way to him, rubbing his back as he continues to throw up. His body wasn't used to that much alcohol, he wasn't a drinker at all.

"Oh Matt," you coo, attempting to soothe him as he hurls. You look over at his brothers, both covered in Matt's throw up with disgusted looks on their faces. "Has he eaten anything?" concern laced through your voice, "his stomach can't handle all the alcohol he had to tonight. Go get a couple pieces of bread for him to eat," you order, hoping one of them will do as you say so you don't have to leave Matt's side. You had been through the exact same thing he was going through one too many times, so you knew exactly what he needed.

Nick rushes out of the room, coming back with a couple pieces of bread and a bottle of water. He sets it down on the nightstand and takes a few steps back, clearly concerned about Matt because he's not worried about being covered in puke.

You look over at him, "you should go get changed. I got him, he'll be okay," reassuring him. Chris stood in the doorway, "are you sure?" He takes a few steps forward and looks at Matt, "what if he has alcohol poisoning?"

"Alco-whaa?" Matt grumbles, lifting his head from the trashcan and falling back on the bed.

"He'd be way worse if he had that," you tell him, "trust me," before sitting Matt up and wiping his mouth. To no avail, he slumps over and hits his head on the headboard, groaning and throwing a hand up to cover the goose egg that's more than likely forming. You sigh, pulling him up again, this time propping him up with pillows. "Here," cracking the water bottle open and bringing it to his lips, "drink."

Matt takes a sip from the water bottle, looking at you with his eyes bleary from the inoperative state the alcohol had him in. You smile at him, taking the water bottle away and replacing it with a piece of bread, "eat it," nodding him on. He takes a big bite and chomps on it, making you giggle. You look at Chris and Nick, kind of like you're reassuring them he'd be just fine. It works and they go on their way to clean themselves up.

You watch has Matt still chomps on his bread, staring at you with ogle eyes, "you're so fucking pretty," his speech is still slurred but a lot clearer than before. 

A blush creeps up on your face, "shut up, Matt. You're drunk."

"S'what," he slurs, a kool-aid smile stretched across his smile, "you're still gorgeous." 

Over the last year and a half, you and Matt had been friends, and he never flirted with you. So, your immediate thought was it had to be caused by his intoxicated state.

"Shut up and eat your bread," you mumbled a bit embarrassed. Thank God Chris and Nick weren't in the room, they'd never let the two of you live it down. Standing up to set the water on his nightstand, Matt reaches his hands out to your thighs, pulling you towards him.

You squeal at the sudden contact, "Matt, what are you doing?!"

"Cuddle with me," he whines, making sure to keep a tight grip on the backs of your thighs, pressing his head to your stomach. You look down at him, pushing a piece of hair out of his face. Matt looks up with the biggest puppy dog eyes, "please."

How could you say no to that face? Yeah, you found Matt attractive, who didn't? But you never thought he'd have his arms wrapped around your waist, begging you to cuddle with him. After debating with your inner conscious for a second, you convince yourself the outcome couldn't be that bad. Nodding to Matt, "fine," pushing him back and crawling up next to him.

His arm snakes around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest. The two of you stay frozen in time for a while and he finally looks down at you, "I really like you, Y/n."

You snicker, "go to sleep, Matt." You were definitely giving him shit about this in the morning.

"I'm not that drunk anymore," he tells you in a defensive tone before sitting up, making you sit up with him. What was this kid getting at? Confusion spreads across your face and your eyes search the room, almost like you’re for hidden cameras. "The water helped," you hear him say.

"So, what are you trying to say, Matt," you keep your tone quiet. Was he implying he had feelings for you? You two have been friends for a little a year and a half so this sudden confession had you struck for words. Matt had never indicated he liked you or even looked at you as anything more than friends. There were no signs. This was out of the blue for you.

"I like you," he hums, obviously still drunk but not as drunk as before. He was sobering up by the minute now that the bread was absorbing all the leftover alcohol in his stomach. He looks at you, leaning in, "just told you that, silly goose," and bops your nose with his index finger.

"Y-you like me?" you stutter, trying not to overreact, "since when?"

"Since forever, duh," he laughs. Usually Matt would be embarrassed to no end having confessed his feelings to you but his intoxicated state put him at ease, "ask anyone. They all know," he nods proudly.

You ran your finger through your hair, not believing what you're hearing. "You're gonna regret this in the morning, Matthew," you tell him, using his full government name so he knows you're serious.

"Nuh-uh," he argues, "that's the only reason I got this wasted tonight, so I'd finally tell you." His final confession leaves your jaw hanging wide open, "ask my brothers. They knew the plan," he giggles before falling back onto his bed and letting the liquor take over his system, sending him into a deep sleep.

Not my photos for dividers. All credit is due to original creators! ❤️

Wrote this while taking a hot bubble bath. 10/10 recommend.

First imagine so let me know what you think!! 💚

My requests are always open!

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 | 𝐉.𝐖𝐘 ♡

【Synopsis】 : You started to think you were losing your mind. Where on earth is your underwear disappearing to? Your roommate wouldn't happen to know, right?

『Word count』 : 750

-> Genre: Smut. Roommate au.

Pairing: Bestfriend!Wooyoung x AFab!Reader

[Warnings] : Masturbation. Pantie fucking. Swearing. Pet names. Kisses. Light banter. Flirting.

Note: I'M BACCKKKKKKK!!! DID YALL MISS ME HEHE.

My darling @shinestarhwaa , the minute i saw your request, i was up all night thinking about it. I would have made this longer, but Idk why i didn't, honestly, haha. I hope you like it hehe.

Based on this request ♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Buy me a Ko-Fi ♡

This was the fifth pair in weeks that had gone missing. At first, you thought you might have been forgetting them at the laundromat in the basement of your apartment. But when you couldn’t find them there you started to believe only one thing. Standing in your silky robe with your hands on your hips, you head down the hall from the bathroom, going past your room towards your roommate. If anyone knew what might have happened it’ll be him. 

But little did you know, Wooyoung, your precious roommate was the one stealing them. It didn’t start like this at first. One time he did his laundry with your stuff and one of your pretty pink pairs of lacy panties got mixed up with his stuff. Tucked perfectly in his jeans. Out of sight. When he was putting his clothes away, he couldn’t help it, you were napping and he didn’t want to sneak into your room, fearing he’d wake you. 

So he did the natural thing. He was going to leave them on his counter and wait until you woke up. He was going to leave them on his counter…. He was going to wait. Wait for you to wake… How on earth can your panties be so soft? Are they silk? So warm, and they smell like your floral detergent. God, they're perfect. “Fuck…”

He was ashamed at first, rushing to pull his sweats down, awkwardly wrapping the garment around his aching cock. He had never came so hard in his life before feeling the sweet material around himself. It was messy, filthy. Sinful. He couldn’t help himself, as the days turned into weeks and one pair turned into five. He hid them under his bed, of course, not knowing what to do with the cum filled cloth. He couldn’t just put them in a wash, cause you do the washing nine out of ten. And he couldn’t possibly say all of these panties just happened to end up in his load. He was in too deep. So hiding them became the best option.

Then a knock at the door alerted him. He was right in the middle of pleasuring himself with your panties when you walked in and man the look on your face turned him pale. Pure shock was best to describe your features. Standing there in a bathrobe of all things, looking at him with utter disbelief. Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to hide away, and never return. Tucking his cock away in his sweats, his hand was tightly clutching the -your- panties. “I… I. uh. I can explain.”

“I was wondering where my panties went. What the fuck Youngie!?” You folded your arms across your chest, tapping your bare foot on the ground. “Do you have the rest of them??”

Wooyoung’s brain had successfully stopped working, just staring at you like a deer in headlights. In his mind, your friendship was over, but in yours, he needed to be punished. Sure it was weird but not the worst thing you’ve seen. And it probably doesn’t make it as bad since you have a huge crush on him. So right now, you wanted to play a game. Since he made you lose your mind, you wanted him to have just a taste. “Well? Why did you do it? I’ve been searching myself stupid for them.”

“Look, doll, I’m so sorry. It just happened and I couldn’t stop. I uh… god I’m a creep.” He was still seated in the middle of his bed, banging his head lightly on his headboard. You were silent for a moment, letting him sit in some guilt before you couldn’t hold back the smile. Starting to laugh. This caught Wooyoung’s attention so fast, letting him snap his neck in your direction.

“Oh lighten up Youngie.” You waltz over to him, leaning down so your face is inches away from his blushed one. “Just tell me so I don’t lose my mind over where they went.” he kissed his cheek before turning away and heading for the door.

Wooyoung didn’t move though, no, he sat with bulbous eyes watching you with a stopped heart. You gave him one more smile before saying. “Oh and next time you want to fuck your cock with something of mine. maybe try my pussy.”

And with that you left with a beaming smile, closing the door to leave Wooyoung with his short-circuited mind and aching hard cock.

—

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[littlemissaddict]

Backfired - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: As she avoids Eddie as she fears she's ruined their friendship, Eddie begins to worry that she's just like everyone else - ashamed to be seen with him. Follow on from Psycho.

Word Count: 2883

"Dustin" she tried to keep her voice from shaking as she approached the younger boy at his locker, Eddie's checked shirt from the night before folded neatly in her hands, a tightly folded apology note tucked into the chest pocket that the curly haired boy didn't need to know about.

He smiled happily as he turned to face her, closing his locker in the process. Clearly given the look on his face he hadn't heard yet about what went down last night because he would definitely be asking her about it right now. "Can you give this to Eddie for me and tell him that I'm sorry" she asked quickly, thrusting the shirt into his hands and while he was distracted by looking down at the shirt, she made her escape to avoid the impending questions he was bound to ask.

She was halfway down the hallway when she heard him shout her name but she didn't look back, instead pressed forward quicker to get to her first class and she slid into her seat just as the late bell rang.

By the time lunch came she was exhausted after having carefully planned routes to get to class in hopes of avoiding Eddie and more so Jason after her display the night before, and after successfully being the last one in and first one out of class she had managed to do so. Sighing in relief as she settled herself in the back corner of the library, feeling like she could breathe for the first time today because there was no way anyone would come looking for her in there but it also meant she was free from whispered rumours and judgemental looks from peers, most of which hadn't even been there and yet were still sprouting lies about her.

Lunch for Eddie was a very different matter entirely, he hadn't even been able to walk through the doors of the cafeteria before Jason and his goons were on him. The hateful nonsense about him he could handle but the names they were calling her were downright disgusting and none of which was true, so to say he was relieved when he reached the sanctuary of the Hellfire table was an understatement.

Or it was until Dustin arrived, practically throwing the checked fabric across the table to him with a look that said 'what did you do' that Eddie's breath faltered, she'd spoken to Dustin and avoided him all day so it couldn't be good. “You fucker, what did you do?” Dustin said, rather too loudly for the cafeteria and drew even more attention to their table than usual.

“You don’t know?” Mike asked from his usual seat beside the curly haired boy and when Dustin shook his head in response the whole table stared at him as though he had two heads, which was a look he was accustomed too but not from his friends.

“So you haven’t heard the rumours” Jeff asked, again Dustin shook his head no.

“So what the fuck do you know” Eddie huffed, he was getting agitated now because the girl he’d had a crush on had kissed him and then ran off and now here he was getting his shirt returned by a know it all freshman who normally he was quite fond of but now was pissed at.

“I know that she was meant to play with you guys last night and now this morning she looked like all she wanted to do was cry so I’ll ask again what the fuck did you do?” Dustin uttered, his frustration seeping into every word as his eyes narrowed on Eddie.

“That’s the thing he didn’t do anything” Gareth urged, jumping to Eddie’s defence as Dustin muttered what sounded like bullshit. “Seriously she got up on stage, she sounded amazing and then at the end she kissed him before running away, we didn't even know she was going to do it” he continued, sparing an apologetic glance towards Eddie for making him relive it again.

“You must have been a really bad kisser then to make her wanna cry” Dustin deadpanned before groaning as Mike’s elbow digged painfully into his ribs, although he wasn’t surprised to find out that she had kissed Eddie, to him it was clear to see that each of them had fallen for the other.

The sound of Eddie’s hands slapping the table drew their attention, “You don’t get it do you? I’m The Freak she’s probably upset because she regrets ever associating herself with me and the whole kiss thing I bet that was only to get back at Jason because let's face it a girl like that is never going to like a guy like me” he ranted, pushing himself away from the table and stalking off out of the cafeteria with his lunch box in one hand and shirt in the other.

Principal Higgins calls out to him as he makes his way to the exit but Eddie doesn’t stop, doesn’t even acknowledge him and he knows come tomorrow he’ll have detention but he doesn’t care, he just wants the day to be over with. He only breathes a sigh of relief when he’s climbing into the van, throwing everything onto the seat next to him apart from the shirt which is clutched tightly in his hand still and before he can stop himself he’s burying his face into the worn material, tears pricking at his eyes when he gets a whiff of her perfume that seems to be woven into the fabric after just one wear. Why did his life have to be like this? Everyone always left him, was ashamed of him and he just wanted her to be different. Well she was different but she proved to be just like everyone else in the end.

He couldn’t do this anymore, sick of feeling sorry for himself he threw the material into the back of the van, he’d deal with it later and probably burn it as he couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore. Starting the van he turned the radio up as loud as it would go, hoping the heavy metal would drown out his thoughts as he put the van into gear and sped out the parking lot as fast as he could, almost hitting a couple of sophomores on the way.

It was Tuesday again, a week had passed and Eddie hadn’t seen or thought about her in that time in an attempt to block out the pain that came with the memory or the sight of her. They had just completed another set at The Hideout, this one considerably less packed than the last one and as Jeff and Gareth were piling their equipment in the back of his van, they came across the shirt that Eddie had tossed the week prior and never got around to dealing with.

“Hey man, have you seen this” Jeff asked, holding the shirt up but in the dim light Eddie couldn’t see that his friend had caught sight of something in the pocket.

“Yeah I put it there” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes and hauling the last amp into the van.

“You put a note in the pocket?” Jeff replied, confused as he pulled out a small square of paper.

“Note? What the fuck are you talking about, there is no note” Eddie scoffed pulling back only to see that Jeff wasn’t lying. “Whatever it’s probably just a fake apology anyway, you can just throw it away” he said with a shake of his head, slamming the back doors closed and trying to control his breathing as he walked around to the drivers side.

“I don’t think it’s fake man, you gotta read this” Gareth spoke as soon as Eddie pulled the door open, open note in hand that he clearly snatched Jeff and nosied his way through in the short amount of time it took Eddie to walk around the van.

“I told you I really don’t care what it has to say” Eddie tried to protest but Gareth cut him off.

Eddie snatches the note from Gareth's hands as soon as he's finished speaking, partly because he doesn’t believe it’s actually from her. He’s so sure that it’s part of an elaborate scheme the two of them have come up with just to get him to try and talk to her because they’re certain that she’s in love with him and that he’s stupid for denying it. Although one look at the writing on the page is enough to confirm that it is from her, the writing is definitely hers and far too neat to be the boys’ attempt at a forgery.

“So what are you going to do?” Jeff’s voice breaks the silence that seems to have fallen over them all as they watch Eddie read and reread the note over again, his fingertips softly tracing over each word until he’s practically got it memorised word for word.

“I have to speak to her, let her know how much of an idiot she’s been for not seeing that I like her too” he says, his tone filled with resolve as he feels the invisible weight lift off of his shoulders now he knows how she feels.

The next morning Eddie’s at school early for once as he makes it his mission to find her, although it seems that he’s not the only one looking for her as he finds a crowd of people around her locker and at the centre is her and Jason. He feels his hands clench into fists by his sides at the thought of Jason tormenting her but as he gets closer he can’t help but listen to what's being said.

“You know you’ve been a slippery one this week, been hard to find you” Jason taunts, malice evident in his voice as he speaks.

“Why would you care, I’m not yours anymore, you don’t need to keep tabs on me” she sighs, books held tight to her chest in what looks like an effort to keep some distance between herself and the boy in front of her and Eddie doesn’t blame her, Jason’s put her through enough and all she wants is for him to leave her alone.

“So are you his then, Munson’s?” Jason challenges with a smirk on his face as he already knows the answer and it only grows when her face falls and she shakes her head, “Even the freak didn’t want you, guess no one ever will” he mocks with fake sympathy and that’s all Eddie can stomach to listen to as he pushes his way through the crowd, smiling at her when he sees her eyes widen at the sight of him.

He makes his way straight for her, ignoring Jason when he asks what he thinks he’s doing, instead he reaches for her, pulling her body into his so that her books are pressed between their torsos before he cups her reddening cheeks in his hands and leans in. When he kisses her she can’t help but feel a sense of relief to have his lips on hers again, even more so because he’s initiated it but he pulls back before the panic can set in about why he’s kissing her. She’s still a little dazed from the kiss but she doesn’t miss the way Eddie turns back to Jason without letting go of her and with the uttermost confidence in himself throws a curveball that the other boy wasn’t expecting.

“Of course she’s mine, Carver. Why? You jealous?” he mocks, raising an eyebrow in question to the dumbfounded boy.

Seemingly to have remembered there’s a crowd around them he collects himself, his usually cocky smile finding its way back onto his face. “Whatever freak, she’s not all that” he scoffs, turning on his heel and stalking off, clearly stating that that’s the end of the conversation and she feels Eddie’s hold on her tighten at Jason’s words as he tries to keep himself from following him and getting into a fight.

“We need to talk” he says, once the crowd disperses and the way he says it leaves no room for arguments but she knew he was right as she nodded letting him lead her away.

They end up in the library and thankfully it’s practically empty considering how early it is but that doesn’t stop him from leading her towards the back wall, clearly he doesn’t want anything or anyone to interrupt them. He finally comes to a stop by the encyclopaedias and she can’t help the way her brain commends his choice because you can guarantee these are the books that get checked out the least and when she turns back to Eddie his expression is serious which is something that is rarely seen and it makes her worry.

“You are an idiot” he deadpans, his face giving nothing away and she bites her lip in anticipation of what’s to come, “do you know how much it hurt when you gave Dustin my shirt, I thought it was your way of telling me you didn’t want me anymore and that fucking note, I would never have found it if Jeff hadn’t been nosy enough to go through my shit” he huffs, the frustration and anger of the past week coming out before he could even stop it as his hands tugged roughly on his curls.

“I’m sorry” her voice is small as she speaks, eyes wide and pleading with him to believe that she means it. “I just I know Jason gives you a lot of shit already but then I kissed you and you didn’t respond so I thought I’d messed everything up and well I was worried Jason would treat you even worse if he knew I’d moved on because despite what he says, he’s trying to get me back” she reveals and he softens straight away. He hadn’t even thought about why she’d done what she had, he’d been too focused on believing that she was ashamed to be with him.

“We’re both idiots” he sighs, a hand rubbing over his face before he meets her eyes again and then they’re both laughing, doubled over in the back of the library and they try to come back to their senses before they have the old librarian come to tell them off.

“We are” she smiles as their laughter subsides, “but I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, never wanna hurt you” she utters, vulnerability creeping back in as she goes all shy on him.

“I know sweetheart, I know” he reassures her, pulling her in again as she buries her face into his shirt and he can’t help but smile at how adorable she is. Leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the crown of her head and as he pulls away, she pulls back enough just to look at him. “You know I was serious earlier when I said you were mine, I want you to be, I wasn’t just saying it to piss off Jason though it was worth it to see the look on his face” he chuckles and he swears her smile gets even bigger.

“That’s good because I want to be yours too, if it wasn’t already obvious” she teases, fluttering her eyes innocently at him as she does so.

He shakes his head as he rolls his eyes at her but his love for her is clear on his face even if he hasn’t told her yet and he contemplates saying it but the bell goes leaving no time for anything else. As he walks her to her first class he can’t help but ask her to join the Hellfire table for lunch again, “You know Dustin blames me for all this, he’s completely convinced and won’t listen to reason” he tells her and she laughs at that.

“I knew there was a reason I liked the kid,” she says, nudging him with her shoulder as she bites back a smile as they come to a stop outside her history class.

“Yeah well maybe he’ll stop glaring daggers at me if he knows that we’re good” he adds, still hesitant to call her his girlfriend even though they’ve talked it out and she even told him that she wants to be his. As if sensing his sudden awkwardness, she pushes up on her toes as she snakes a hand around the back of his neck to gently tilt his head down before she kisses his lips softly enough that his lips tingle when she pulls away but it’s enough confirmation for now that she wants this. “I’ll see you at lunch”

“You will my love” she giggles at his dumbfounded face because of the pet name she called him as she enters the class leaving him out in the hall until the late bell rings and she watches from her seat as he snaps out of whatever daze he’s in and rushes towards his class with an adorable red flush on his cheeks.

Maybe taking the chance to kiss him was one of the best things she’s ever done, well a close second as breaking up with Jason Carver would always top the list.

[instaquarius]

For Full Res

From PTA (Poketale Ascendance) Chara's POV as she briefly wonders what might have happened if arceus had never found and adopted her into his family/took her into the pokemon world-

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The idea came about cuz i recently replayed through the pacifist run again in celebration of Undertale's 7th anniversary

and I was thinking about my current Pokemon/Undertale AU and how in the Undertale universe of PTA, everyone's lives might actually be for the better because Chara never fell into Mt. Ebott and stuff.

Like Gaster may potentially live and not yeet himself across time and space and get shattered by his time machine basically since there wouldn't be any RESETs possibly until Frisk falls anyways. (since no Flowey, since i don't think Asriel would have died) when the dreemurrs meet the other 6 kids and possibly adopt them all too, just like how they all adopt Chara in the original story.

Asriel grows up to be a proper Prince/potential King when Asgore passes away and Toriel(? from old age-

**Currently unsure if the monsters ever do leave the Underground while Chara is off in the pokemon world/PokeEarth since PTA never really focuses on the Undertale world after arceus takes Chara away and stuff, since PTA is entirely from Chara's POV for the most part-**

I assume they do- but maybe the 6 kids and Frisk never like- digest buttercups and basically kill themselves like Chara does and they do successfully find some other way to break the barrier just having all 7 kids be alive and stuff- idek.

But ye-

Then while thinking this, I of course made myself sad as hell kinda cuz I adore the dreemurr family and Chara and Asriels friendship and stuff and i'm kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinda sad my chara never has that bond??

But at the same time I also kinda just think Chara is also better off with her Pokemon family and Arceus cuz she also gets to live for basically millions of years due to Dialga (and i guess Celebi) constantly rewinding Chara's time to keep her from dying of old age or whatever

and also potentially has a better support too in Arceus for her troubles and potential abuse from the humans of her village (just based on all the hints in Undertale/implications she was abused idk)

and- ye. then I got inspired to make this.

You can take this drawing and think of it for either POV(? idk.

but ye. it was mostly just for funsies and i hope you like

------

For PokeTale: Ascendance

An AU based off of an RP between me and a friend of mine from my discord server discord.gg/pQf9ZsdF6E where the Creation Trio as babies (a time they all cant really fully control their powers and junk) accidentally create a portal into the Undertale Universe and meet Chara and basically Arceus finds Chara and adopts her after finding out about her shitty human parents and Chara ends up helping Arceus raise the babies and basically lives in the Pokemon Universe now

[summer-skye-64]

I gave the Undertale cast warrior cat names

Ft. Translations into clanmew, which is from @bonefall and @troutfur

Frisk - Kindlepaw (Kagnampwyr)

A former kittypet who joined the clans out of curiosity, Kindlepaw was named for their striking tortoiseshell markings (being brown with patches of deep, fiery ginger, the most prominent of which being a heart-shaped marking on their chest). However, they initially regretted their decision, thanks in part to their immense dislike for combat and hunting. Eventually, they found success in acting as a forager of sorts, successfully locating a bunch of prey and herbs during a particularly harsh leaf-bare. Full name will be the honor title Trailblaze (Shofiswarfyf, “path has burned”, after the fact that they managed to create their own path in the clan without learning how to hunt or fight or become a cleric).

Flowey/Asriel - Flowerpaw (Ponmapwyr)

A golden and white tom who seems to hate everyone and everything, Flowerpaw is the only surviving child of Lightseed and Loststar after an accidental forest fire. Having lost one of his legs and all of his siblings, he went from kind and loving to a jaded jerk. Thankfully, his mentor seems to be helping him through his issues, and he’s slowly been growing nicer over time. Full name will be Flowerbloom (Ponmamwar, “flower will bloom”, after the fact that he’s working through his trauma and the hope that he’ll be able to heal from it).

Toriel - Lightseed (Shayuhi’i)

A white molly with striking pink eyes, Lightseed was named for the fact that she was always interested in kits and tending to the nursery, to the point she immediately got with the first tom she liked and became a permanent queen. She had at least eight kits, spread across three separate litters. Unfortunately, she lost all but one of them in a fire her mate accidentally caused. She never forgave him for that, and even temporarily left the clan so that she could deal with her grief without having to see her ex-mate. She eventually returns with Kindlepaw, who she adopted once she processed everything.

Sans - Bluebone (Luparbaben)

A small and round cat who is quick to crack a joke, Bluebone was named for the bone-like markings on his fur. While he tends to laze around camp like he’s lived there forever, nobody knows exactly where he came from, and he’s always quick to dodge the question whenever anybody asks. Some theorize that he is kin of the disappeared cleric Boneberry (Babenlepe), given their resemblance, but nothing has ever been confirmed. He mentors Kindlepaw, teaching them about the things clan cats do besides hunt and fight.

Papyrus - Redbone (Reybaben)

A tall and lanky cat, Redbone was named for his bone-like markings just like his brother. Unlike his brother, he’s always looking for work to do, whether it’s around camp or all throughout the territory. Part of this is likely to come from the fact that he was made a warrior late due to failing his first assessment. Despite that, he always tries to keep a positive outlook on things no matter what, believing that even the worst cats can change. This is why he was given Flowerpaw to mentor, much to everyone’s (including his own) surprise.

Undyne - Scaleclaw (Weeshkach)

A blue and ginger tortoiseshell with a large scar on her face, Scaleclaw is the current deputy. Fiercely loyal to Loststar, she is quick to lose her temper and attack, even without orders. This gets tempered whenever she’s with Redbone, an odd friendship born when they were both just kits. She’s been given a dishonor title previously for her temper, though (Floodstrike, or Worrlkubo, for how she tended to attack indiscriminately and ruined a diplomatic visit because of it).

Alphys - Lichenheart (Aweewababun)

A small golden cat, Lichenheart is currently the only cleric, having taken over after the disappearance of Boneberry. However, her connection to StarClan is incredibly weak, to the point that she often fakes signs to make herself look more skilled than she actually is. Her biggest shame is getting a large number of her clanmates killed with one of her false signs, though because she’s the only cleric she’s too afraid to come forward with the worry she’ll be forced to step down and leave her clan without one. However, she’s technically already breaking the Cleric’s Vow by being in a secret relationship with Scaleclaw.

Mettaton - Halfmask (Kanochpihaba)

A tall, silver tom with distinctive black markings (the most prominent of which being one covering half of his face) and quite a few scars, Halfmask is a very handsome tom. Being a former outsider, he was invited to join by Lichenheart, who created a set of leg braces for him due to the fact that he was having a hard time walking without being fully paralyzed. He’s definitely quite the showoff, especially after discovering that he was incredibly attractive by clan standards. That being said, he’s also incredibly loyal, often being the first to leap into action during a crisis.

Asgore - Loststar (Mwiskshai)

The current leader of the clan. Despite his imposing size and heavy scarring, Loststar is really a big old softy with a heart of gold. He used to be called Goldfluff (Rreenpfefi), the kind deputy and mate of Lightseed. However, when he was trying to get a cooking fire started, he somehow managed to set his tail on fire. In his panic, he causes the fire to spread and ends up destroying the entire camp and killing most of his children (as well as the leader). As penance, he takes on the name Loststar as a self imposed dishonor title when he claims his nine lives. He doesn’t blame Lightseed for leaving, nor does he get upset upon seeing her come back with Kindlepaw.

[ddoxhan]

starry sky

especially missing you tonight

word count : 1.5k

genre : angst, tragic; two where fate separated their friendship

t/w : death

a/n : wrote this ages ago and not edited, I wanted to keep this the way I wrote despite it being (very) slightly different from my current writing style :3 enjoy !!

it's been a while since I came back. two years? longer than I thought would take for things to settle when I moved out of town for college. exactly how long I've not seen you. skipped the new year's once and my mom dragged me back the next. I wanted to reason out with her but well things came to this point. a shade of magenta engulfed the late evening clouds as I looked above my head.

"dinner's ready!"

that was my call to help out with the dinner setting. I looked forward to finishing it as I barely got alone time ever since the start of the holidays. the night was all for myself and I wasn't going to let it all to a waste.

                                                       ☆═━┈┈━═☆

"I'll be back by 11. don't worry."

a drive around the neighborhood brought back some buried memories and filled my consciousness with them. a short tour around would have definitely needed something delicious to start off with. and of course it would be the old lady's food store by the road. we always went over after a long day of school and she still remembers our usual orders. her rice cakes still taste like the ones we had and that somehow brought me back to those times.

when she asked about you, all I could say was 'oh, she's doing fine. a little busy with work.' I do hope you are. don't crush my hopes. remember when we said we would get our driving license together when our 20th spring comes? well, I guess I got mine earlier than you did. I would say I've got some skills nailed down after getting my own car.

as if I have drove in the neighbourhood for years, my feet took me to the river where we used to hang out during the weekends. you would always drag me out of my room to come here. like, nothing interesting here if you ask me. but it holds some very precious moments of you for me. I taught you how to ride a bicycle since you technically rented one and forced me to teach you. that was the very first time you successfully rode a two-wheeler without falling miserably.

it seems that the owner of the convenience store inherited it to his son. I still remember how he stared at you the whole time we were choosing what to eat. and again, he asked for you. the same reason rolled off my tongue like it was an automated response. getting ice-cream, I took my leave from the store to get a nice seat by the river. we used to take the one under the big tree so we don't get sunburned as bad as that time we went to the city amusement park.

the purple hue still remained faintly in the sky as it slowly got darker. you used to make wishes at weird things like the clock striking 11:11, when breaking wooden chopsticks perfectly in half and even when you just come across a coin. you were one hopeful kid and I was the total opposite. guess they were right when they said opposites attract. and as time went by, that didn't seem to be the case.

no matter how close we used to be, you had moved out of town and I too had moved for my studies. first few months went by as usual, calls and texts were everyday. first year came and things died a little. you and I met new people in new environments and maybe I missed your presence. I needed that warmth and I projected that feeling on my new acquaintances to feel safe.

but it just didn't feel right. numerous people came and went yet none could fill that empty spot. a normal day with nothing out of the blue came by but I gathered the courage to contact you after so long.

'the number you have dialed is unavailable.'

you changed your number. even your parents didn't pick up and seems that they changed theirs too. I was alone that night in my room, with my roommate out. it was summer but the loneliness just felt so chilly, I had to slip into a sweatshirt. that was our story.

the ice cream had almost melted entirely as I returned from my daydream. thank god I had bought a paper plate in case it dripped onto my clothes. the way you used to. spending most of my time with you then, made me pick up your habits. the way you talk, the way you think.

one drop. two drops. another one. the emotional rollercoaster I had been on this whole time finally came to a stop and I can't process my feelings. anger? resentment? regret? sorrow? or was it all at once? I had only found out when my mom called me as I finished my last class for the day. you were gone. she said it was cancer. the reason you moved out was because you needed to receive treatment in the city for the equipment.

her words hit me like a meteorite had just crashed on me. why couldn't you tell me? were you worried that I couldn't accept? well, it would have been better if I had faced it earlier. instead of making me feel all the guilt I could ever feel. I could've been there with you, to fight against the pain, and be someone you could lean on.

taking out the poorly folded paper I had always carried with me, I was again brought back to the times we had no worries. just a bunch of dorks having so much fun, and the world seemed to be so colorful. just like today. unlike every other day, it was as if your words and writing just engulfed me with a warm blanket, blocking out the chilly wind of the night.

jimin, please don't cry too much when you read this. I know it was very selfish of me to not let you know about my condition but I figured, I didn't want to let myself be a burden of yours. I didn't want you to see me die and fade more as each day passed. I didn’t want the memories of our time to end with you crying beside my hospital bed.

if the last time I’ve seen you is the time you waved at me with that smile of yours, my wish has been fulfilled. even if it means pushing you away. as much as I want to see the last moment of you in my memory to be happy, I want you to as well as of the memory of me. my last wish before I leave is for you to come back to our hometown and fulfill what I’ve written above. not to mention, please, jimin. please, don’t cry. when you come back, I will always be here so smile for me. 

jimin-ah, please live to your fullest, for me, for aunty and uncle, for yourself. this would never be a farewell letter. I would never leave your side. forever. you know right? I love you.

no matter how many times I’ve read this, tears would emerge and roll down my cheeks. what would it take to go back and retake my decisions? I would've had no regrets if I’ve tried my best. but I knew I didn’t. that is why it hurts even more than it could ever. I knew I could have done more, tried more, asked more. instead of sitting like an idiot in my room, contemplating on whether to have bought that bus ticket to the city. 

placing the letter back into my phone case, I cried my heart out even if you had asked me to smile when I came back.

‘I miss you’

can’t even fill a hundredth of the feeling. words had became a limit to express my longing to see you again, to hold you again, to have you by my side again. to see that fat smile you would always have on your face whenever I cracked a joke. 

when I had finally composed myself, it had already turned dark. the street lights were the only things keeping darkness at bay. standing up from the bench I had occupied for the past hour, a butterfly found its way to my hand.

"I know. you never left my side. you know I can feel you right?"

"aeri, don’t worry. I’ve grown to be strong, just that you are my weak spot. keeping a smile on wouldn’t be a problem but when it comes to you, it turns bitter. please, stay happy, after all the pain you have gone through. I believe that you are, so I would be also."

the butterfly fluttered several times before taking its departure again. I looked at it with watery eyes from earlier, before blinking them away as I made my way to the car.

"jimin-ah, you know I love you right?"

I turned around, confused and shocked at the sudden voice by my side. I feel my lips curling into a welcoming and friendly smile. I knew it was aeri, no doubt that it was her.

"I do, aeri. I love you so much I want to go and see you instantly but your wish was for me to go on so I’ll do that."

"one day, I’ll be able to see you again, hug you, to let you know. that I’ve been waiting for this my whole life."

[torreshalstead]

Your eyes in my life - Chapter 2

Summary - The night of Kim’s final layover as a flight attendant ended with a one night stand with a stranger she met across a bar.

6 years later, that same stranger walked into the 21st District and was assigned as her new Rookie and her life was thrown upside down. She hadn’t seen Adam since that night in LA. But she saw his eyes every day. In the eyes of their daughter.

Chapters - 2/?

Chapter Summary - Kim was excited to be assigned her first rookie but she wasn’t expecting who Platt paired her up with.

Notes - Thanks for the support on the first chapter last week, this chapters a bit short but it came to a natural conclusion, hope you enjoy! AO3 Link

6 years later

‘Morning Sarge’, Officer Burgess said cheerfully as she stopped at the front desk at the district, her arms resting against it, flashing a smile as she leant. Sergeant Trudy Platt gave her the same look she always did, disdainful, but Kim knew it was all an act. She had known Trudy for 5 years now and knew that desk sergeant had a heart of gold and would do anything for the officers under her command. She could still put the fear of God into you if you stepped out of line however.

‘Burgess, chipper as ever I see’, Trudy said, glancing at the officer over the top of her glasses, her gaze meeting the sunny smile that Kim was giving her. ‘We’ve got some new recruits today and I thought you’d like to be the one to welcome them to the district’.

Trudy wasn’t the type to pick favourites but if she had to choose, Kim Burgess would be near the top of that list. She had taken her under her wing from her first day on the job, seeing a glimmer of herself in the young officer and not wanting any of the old 74’s to crush her spirit. The world needed more cops like Kim Burgess, and Trudy was going to make sure she stayed the course.

‘Thanks Sarge!’ Kim said animatedly as she grinned and headed downstairs to welcome the recruits, an extra spring in her step.

Kim loved her job at the 21st more than almost anything and was forever thankful to Trudy for her mentorship and if she was honest, her friendship. It was Trudy who had pushed her to become a Field Training Officer and this batch of new recruits would contain her first Rookie. She was excited for the challenge but there was something nagging in her brain that she couldn’t quite shift. She stopped at the entrance to the roll up, took a deep breath, smoothed down her shirt and headed through the door.

‘Welcome to the 21st, I’m Officer Kim Burgess and for the next 12 weeks this is your district. Three things before we start, get the desk sergeant on side and you’ll never have to ride in the car’s that don’t have AC. Respect your TO and remember your pledge. You are here to serve the city of Chicago, not to serve yourself. Remember that and you’ll succeed here.’

At the end of her speech, Kim had successfully made eye contact with the 9 recruits that were in the room. She could tell this would be an interesting batch. As normal there were significantly less women than men, only 2 in the group. In her rookie class there had only been 1 so she guessed it was a slight improvement. As she continued to assess the group and wondered silently who Platt would have her paired with, the door to the carpark slammed open and she heard someone call out, ‘sorry I’m late Sir, Chicago traffic’. When she looked over to where the voice had come from, her knees threatened to buckle and she felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her.

Standing in the doorway was someone she had never expected to see again. The years had been kind to him, his hair was slightly longer, his beard fuller but she could see the gleam in his eyes from here. The same gleam that had plagued her dreams for months after the fact, and sometimes still drifted into her subconscious even now. He was removing his jacket and hadn’t had the chance to take in who was actually standing in front of all the recruits, she was thankful for the moment it allowed her to compose herself. Now was not the time.

When he finally looked up, he dropped his jacket and his jaw onto the floor. Flustered, he reached down to pick up the former.

‘Ma’am’, he said, ‘Ma’am, sorry’. His eyes never left hers. ‘Ruzek, Adam Ruzek’, he said after a second.

‘Take a seat Ruzek’, Kim said calmly gesturing to the empty seat to her right. Adam walked towards her and took the seat she offered. If any of the other recruits in the room had noticed anything off, no one said anything.

‘As I was saying, remember those and you’ll succeed here. It’s an honour to serve this city, do it and yourself, proud.’ She looked around the room again, carefully avoiding looking at Adam, and was impressed to see everyone hanging on every word she said, maybe she had a grip of this FTO thing.

Just then Trudy walked into the room with a stack of files and a number of other officers following her. Kim recognised them as the district's other training officers. She suddenly felt a small burst of pride over the fact that Trudy had picked her out of everyone to welcome the recruits, as some of them had been on the job for years longer than her. She knew she was good at her job but still enjoyed being recognised for it on occasion.

‘They’re all yours Sarge’, she said with a smile and walked over to join the rest of the TO’s, earning a fistbump from her best friend on the job, Kevin Atwater. They had come up together at the police academy, both having their own reasons for becoming cops and he had been her rock. And he still was, he was the one she’d always turn to if she had a bad call and needed to grab a drink to forget about it. And likewise, if he was having issues with his siblings, she’d be on the other end of the line with comforting words. She was forever grateful she had found a friend like Kevin.

‘Nice one Burg’, he whispered as Trudy took over with her standard first day spiel. Kim risked a glimpse over to where Adam was sitting and noticed that his eyes were still fixed firmly on her, apparently not taking in anything the desk sergeant was saying. She averted her eyes quickly and continued to listen to Trudy.

‘Listen carefully, I’m going to now assign you to your training officer. They will be in charge of you for the next 12 weeks. You will listen to everything they say. If they say run, you run. If they say stop, you stop. If they say get me a coffee, you get them a coffee. Understand?’

The recruits were nodding, all transfixed on what the desk sergeant was saying, Trudy had that effect on people.

‘When I read your name, stand and your TO will come and collect you. Any complaints, I don’t want to hear them’. As Trudy started to rattle through the names, Kim’s palms started to get sweaty, her leg started to twitch, her name hadn’t been called yet and neither had Adam’s. She was still actively avoiding eye contact with him.

‘Tay, Atwater’. Kevin gently nudged her shoulder as he strolled over to where one of the two female rookies had jumped to attention.

‘Ruzek, Burgess’.

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Sketchbook - Chris Sturniolo

Requested by @pineapplealpaca Pairings - bsf!Chris x bsf!Reader Warnings - Just some fluff 🥰 and strong language! W/c - 2043 Summary - You and Chris meet freshman year of high school. With the talent of drawing, he quickly becomes your muse. After winning an award senior year, he finally finds out what you've been hiding from him this whole time. A/n - Thanks for requesting! 💚 This is my first Chris piece, hope you guys like it!! Should be edited so let me know if you see any typos! All interactions are appreciated ❤️ Dividers and photos are not mine; all credit due to original owners. My requests are always open! Check out my masterlist for my recent pieces! Tags - @lvrsturniolo (sorry I forgot 😭 thank you for already liking!! If anyone else wants to be on my tag list, just let me know ❤️) Current Matt series - City of Love. Part two.

Freshman Year

You sit on the bleachers, letting your pencil scribble across your sketchpad. Spending most of your time here, waiting on your older brother to get done with football practice. You were always an artistic soul, so drawing and painting was something you held close to your heart, along with the boy you had been crushing on since seventh grade - Chris Sturniolo. 

Life was so much easier with him in it. He came around often, being one of your brother's best friends, but you also formed a bond with him since the two of you were the same age. Over time the friendly banter turned into flirty banter, and you found yourself swooning over him at every given chance. Sketching portraits of him in your sketchbook, which might as well be your secret diary. 

You watched as he danced around the football field, doing what he loved most. After practice is finished, he makes his way over to you. Chugging the contents of his water bottle before trying to sneak a peek at your sketchbook, “whatcha’ drawing there, Y/l/n?”

A blush immediately creeps to your face, and your clutch your sketchbook to your chest, “uh- nothing! Just random stuff, why?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, “just wondering, that’s all.”

Chris decided to leave it alone, but he knew he was lying when he said it didn’t spark his curiosity.

Sophomore Year

“C’mon let me see it,” your best friend, Chris, calls from the other side of your bedroom door. When you realized he had been snooping through your room, finding your hidden sketchbook in the process, you flipped shit on him. Snatching your sketchbook, your lifeline, and kicking him out. You run over to your closet, hiding it under a pile of junk you desperately needed to clean up. 

After successfully hiding your secret diary of a sketchbook, you rush over to the door that Chris was still knocking on, slinging it open. He stares at you, pushing you aside, and barging in your room. “It’s never that serious. Let me see that damn book,” he’s a bit agitated you’d keep it from him. There was no secret in your friendship with Chis, so hiding something this big was gut wrenching to him. He felt betrayed. He knew you didn’t want him to see it and that’s what made him want to even more. He had it a mission from that point on.

He needed to see what was in that damn book.

Junior Year

You let out an exaggerated sighed, clenching your sketchbook to your chest. Chris had you pinned on the couch in a battle over your precious sketchbook. Every time he saw it, he dove for it, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything other than Chris - the sketchbook bandit. 

“Chris, please,” practically begging as he stared you down. A smug smirk spread across his lips which were inches from yours. You didn't know what possessed him to go after your sketchbook every time he saw it, but he did. He would catch glimpses over your shoulder, making him more curious than ever. He knew you were drawing a portrait of somebody, but he didn’t know exactly who it was. Especially since you’d slam your book shut and hide it any time your senses told you he was near, his cologne being a dead give away.

“What’s the big deal, Y/n/n?” his tone was laced with playfulness. Knowing Chris too well, you knew he was just waiting for the right moment to rip the sketchbook from your grip. Being around him so much meant you were accustomed to his bullshit. Chris was a big goofball and the two of you got along great, aside from his never ending need to look in your book. He was determined to figure it out, and every time he failed, it ended in an argument. He could get anything he wanted from you, but you would never budge when it came to the sketchbook. 

At first, Chris thought you were afraid to show him your drawings, but when he begged to see one, making you rip a random drawing out and shove it towards him, he quickly realized that wasn’t the case. He just knew there was something, someone, in that book you didn’t want him to see.

Senior Year

The day was finally here - the art show. Your art teacher entered one of your paintings, and if you were honest, you weren’t completely okay with it. Only reason being, the portrait she entered was of your best friend, Chris. He had become your muse over the years. You were around him the most, so his face became easy to draw for you. The way his jawline curved when he turned his head to the side. The shape of his eyes and nose being more symmetrical than anyone you had ever drawn before. You couldn’t help it - when you looked at him, your pencil flew across the paper like magic. 

Chris was one of the most important people in your life. Even though you and Chris were just friends, you couldn’t help but get butterflies every time he looked at you, and that had been a feeling he gave you since the first day you met. You never knew if Chris felt the same way, and you weren’t the type to be straightforward, so you never brought it up. Chris was the complete opposite, being a little too blunt at times. It worried you if he didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t know how to let you down easily. This became one of your biggest fears over the years of knowing him, and one of the main reasons you kept it a secret. You were just grateful he was in your life on a day to day basis, crush or not. 

Luckily, Chris had a football game and couldn’t come to the event you were being awarded for. They had already announced the winners online last week, three of them - two other entries from different schools, and yourself. The only thing you had to do was get through your award winning speech and collect your certificate. Chris being disappointed he couldn’t call off the football game, you being upset you couldn’t attend his game. It was a coincidence in the worst way, but the two of you made plan to make up for it later in the week. In a way you were glad you didn’t have to confess to Chris the secret you had been hiding since freshman year. Knowing Chris, never thinking things through thoroughly before letting his words slip, you figured he’d think your portraits of him were weird. In a way, they were, you had been creepily letting your hand scribble across paper, drawing your best friend. 

Even worse, hiding it from him. For years. Maybe him not being here tonight wasn’t such a bad thing.

You bite your lip, and your gut churns as the host calls your name, “and for the second winner of tonight, Y/n Y/l/n, from Somerville High School!” 

You walk on stage, approaching the podium, and give the audience a big smile. This was one of the biggest achievements of your life, the feeling was euphoric for you. Letting your eyes scan the crowd, landing on your parents and brother. You notice Chris sitting next to your brother, your eyes widen, meeting his gaze, and you spin around to look at your winning portrait - a portrait of him. 

Chris stares at you with an unreadable expression plastered across his face. You couldn’t help wondering how he felt about discovering the secret you had been keeping from him the last four years. Was he mad? Did he even realize it was him? 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you take a step forwards and clear your throat, “I’d like to thank everyone who came out tonight, everyone who donated, and everyone who voted for my art piece. It means the world to me, standing in front of all of you today. I want to thank my family for supporting my dreams, and being here tonight,” you ramble on. Your stage fright disappears for a moment when your eyes land on Chris. A smile stretches across his face and he raises his eyebrows, like he’s telling you to continue. “And of course, I’d like to thank my best friend for being my muse,” your tone was laced with nervousness and passion all at the same time. Chris had inspired you without even knowing it. 

After you wrap up your speech, you enter the common room, chatting amongst the other winners. Various strangers of the art community approached you, congratulating you on your big win, and praising your masterpiece. You knew at the end of the night, you’d have to talk to Chris, and the anticipation boiled in your gut because of it. You didn’t know what you were going to say or how you were going to approach the situation, but you knew it had to be done. You just hoped it didn’t ruin your friendship in the process. 

“Pretty big secret, huh?” a voice from behind you snapps you out of your trance. Immediately recognizing that it’s Chris, you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact of his words. “I can see why you didn’t want me to know,” he continues, this time his voice is closer than before. You don’t say anything because, honestly, what the fuck do you say? 

An awkward smile pulls at your lips as you avoid eye contact with him, “I can’t believe you’ve been drawing me like one of your little french girls this whole time,” he playfully scoffs. His joke breaks the awkward tension being held between you two, making you let out a giggle. 

“Shut up,” you groan while running a hand through your hair. 

“Why?” Chris had always been one to tease you. Especially when it comes to your sketchbook so now that he knows what you had been drawing this whole time, he’s loving the hell out of it. 

“It’s not funny, Chris,” you groan, looking away as your face heats up a dark shade of red. He always had that effect on you, but it was even worse now.

“No, I mean why me?” he asks, his eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find the real answer. He already knows you won’t be completely honest with him, not when it comes to your drawings. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble under your breath, eyes fixated on your shoes. 

Chris reaches out to take your hand in his. The sudden contact makes you look at him, “you can tell me, Y/n.” 

Shaking your head, “I just think you have good bone structure,” you come up with the first lie you can think of, pulling your hand away, and walking to your portrait of him. You point to it, “your face is very symmetrical. It’s easy to draw!”

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. His face was easy to draw, but that was probably because you had drawn him so many times. It was familiar to you. It inspired you.

You felt bad about telling him a halfass truth, but your intuition told you his reaction wouldn’t be good, so you hid it the best you could. You watch as Chris’s eyes brows knit together, his lips forming a straight line. He stares at you for a second, keeping the hard expression etched on his face.

As soon as you think you’re out of the water, he does the unthinkable - reaching a hand out to your wrist, pulling you to him, and smashing his lips into yours. The unexpected kiss makes you freeze for a split second while his lips move against yours. Chris brings a hand up to your face, almost like he’s telling you to accept it. You do exactly what he wants, moving your lips against his, letting him take the lead because you were, obviously, a nervous wreck. 

The shock is still taking a toll on your mind, and body, as Chris pulls away. He looks at you with that same unreadable look, “you’re a bad fucking liar, Y/n.” 

[serialfirstdater]

London #9: The Hotel Interior Designer

At the last Thursday Dating event where I met the Lebanese Solicitor, I obviously met other people. That included two guys, one of them was interested in my friend whom I was with. I ended up chatting with his friend who was standing beside him. The friend was a hotel interior designer who grew up all over the place but primarily lived in Shanghai before coming to London. We hit it off and I thought we got along well as friends, primarily cause he seemed a lot younger than me and I thought he clocked that I was older.

I told him about the Asian meetup groups I was a part of and he said he was down to check them with me. We exchanged Instagrams and I thought this could be the start of a cool, casual friendship.

We chitchatted on and off throughout the next couple of weeks. He originally wanted to go find some Vietnamese restaurants to try out but I went to one already so we agreed to try another Asian restaurant in Chinatown. After all, it was a chill friend hang so I wasn't thinking too deeply about it.

We met by a tube station and walked over to Chinatown. He suggested we either try Korean or Japanese. I looked at the menu and saw that the Korean restaurant was slightly out of the price range I was willing to spend. So I settled for Bone Daddies, a popular Japanese ramen chain in London.

I asked the Hotel Interior Designer about his dating experiences in London.

"So have you gone on any dates from Thursday events so far?" I asked, scooping into my ramen bowl.

"...Isn't this a date?" He asked in surprise.

Cue my surprise Pikachu face. To be honest, I thought this could've been a date earlier but then he said his friend was gonna join. Which made me assume that this was a friend hang instead. I only found out that when we met up, he meant he was with his friend earlier in the day, and in the end, it was just the two of us.

"This can be a friend hang if you want!" He said, gesturing that he was fine if this wasn't a date.

"Do you want it to be a date?" I asked incredulously.

"Either way works for me!"

"I rather you tell me what you prefer," I pressed. I personally wanted it to be a date cause, hey, I wanted to hit my weekly date quota. But I wasn't going to tell him that.

He finalized it as a date and we continued on. About 10 minutes later or so, we came across the topic of age.

"You're 25 right?" He asked. I made a face, and he realized his mistake.

"26?" I shook my head.

"27?" Nu-uh.

"28?" I thumbed up to tell him to keep going.

"30??" Still didn't land.

"31???" Yep.

He was shook and it didn't take me long to guess he was 25, like I suspected originally. Though I did hope for a second once I knew this was a date, he was around 27 years old, but nope. The Hotel Interior Designer successfully became the youngest guy I have ever gone on a date with thus far.

He paid for my ramen and we headed to a cool Asian-inspired bar called Lucy Wong. I pondered over the cocktail options they had before I selected one that sounded interesting. Though they all did because I love anything Asian-related. Once the drinks were ordered, we continued to get to know each other.

I mentioned how I normally dated older. He said he didn't mind dating an older woman as long as she was okay with it. He saw my hesitation and said, "That's not you though, huh?"

I shook my head and smiled feebly. I just knew that younger men were not where I wanted them to be financially in life for me to be comfortable dating them. Not unless somehow they came from money, but even then, the age difference shows. Even throughout this date, I could see his age through his actions, making him less experienced in the world and less attractive to me as a romantic partner overall.

I asked him about his goals in life and he said he was eager to start his own interior design company. His plan was to start while he was young, where he could afford to make all the mistakes now. Then he could be financially stable with his business in his 30s. I thought that was admirable. But also I wanted him to be in that position now and be 10 years older. I do not want to suffer when the guy is still at his "building" stage. I want my man to be fully built, in his career, relationships, experience, and finances.

After drinks, we headed to the tube station. We agreed that we were better off as friends. I thought he was still cool regardless and would see if there was a future opportunity for us to hang out again.

So that concludes how I ended up on a date without realizing I was going to one.

[priteva-blog]

Investing in Deception: How Friendship, Love, and Ambition Fueled a $150,000 Scam

It was the spring of 2019 when my long-time friend, *Lauryn, came to me with a business opportunity. Lauryn and I had been close for over 15 years, our bond forged in the trenches of grad school and solidified by shared life experiences. When she pitched her idea to me, I didn’t hesitate to listen. She was more than a friend — she was my sister, and I was eager to see her succeed.

Lauryn had been through a lot. Two years earlier, she lost her husband, becoming a single mother to two young children at just 39. As a widow, she faced challenges that would have broken many, but Lauryn was resilient. She was rebuilding her life, and I was invested in her success. That’s why, when she approached me about reviving her wellness business, I was all in.

Lauryn was no novice in the health and wellness industry. She had owned a natural body care line, taught fitness classes, and dreamed of opening her own wellness center. She was knowledgeable, passionate, and ready to take her business to the next level. So, when she met Zacharia Ali — a financier, businessman, and investor — at our local LA Fitness, she believed it was a divine connection.

All Smoke and Mirrors

Zac was everything Lauryn needed at that moment — a businessman with a wealth of experience, or so it seemed. He offered her intimacy, mentorship, and guidance. Lauryn fell for him, both as a romantic partner and mentor. Zac carried himself with an air of authority, his words laced with the promise of success and prosperity. He spoke of his business accolades and widespread connections. He informed her that he was divorced, had sadly lost a child in a car accident, and had moved to the area for a fresh start. He was a practicing Muslim from a prominent family in Philadelphia. He was well-connected and had successfully launched many companies, and now he wanted to do the same for Lauryn.

The First Red Flag: Trust, but Verify

When Lauryn introduced me to Zac, I was initially impressed. He spoke with authority about entrepreneurship, investing, and the importance of ownership in the Black community. He even attended my birthday party, where we discussed his ventures in South America, the Middle East, and the African diaspora. Over time, Zac and I exchanged messages about business opportunities, and he seemed genuinely invested in our shared goals.

Zac became more than just Lauryn’s romantic partner and mentor; he became a central figure in our budding business venture. He offered to use his extensive network to help Lauryn relaunch her brand, promising to turn it into an international success. The plan was ambitious but enticing: we would create a line of CBD-infused skincare products, tapping into the booming wellness market. I was hesitant but hopeful. Lauryn’s trust in him reassured me. In hindsight, I should have let Lauryn and Zac work together without getting involved.

Despite my initial reservations, I convinced myself that Zac’s impressive background and Lauryn’s enthusiasm were enough to move forward. I researched Zac’s company, Zar Capital, and found nothing alarming — just websites and social media endorsements that aligned with his stories. But I ignored the small voice inside that urged caution.

The Second Red Flag: If It Sounds Too Good to Be True, It Probably Is

Despite my initial excitement, a nagging voice in the back of my mind urged caution. I researched Zac and his company, Zar Capital. His online presence seemed legitimate — impressive even. His website detailed his supposed business ventures in South America, the Middle East, and across the African diaspora. But beyond the polished surface, something felt off.

Still, Lauryn was convinced. Zac had become her rock, helping her navigate the complexities of business and life after loss. She believed in him, and because I believed in her, I put my doubts aside. Under Zac’s guidance, we formed a business partnership: Lauryn would hold 50% of the company, Zac 30%, and I would take a 20% stake. It seemed like a fair arrangement, and over the next few months, Lauryn and I made substantial investments via wire transfer, totaling $110,000. We were instructed to send the money to a Navy Federal account for GC Worldwide under the umbrella of Zac’s businesses, CBD Switch Holding Corp and Zar Capital.

Another Red Flag: All New Opportunities Are Not Good Opportunities — The Moringa Mirage

As if the CBD venture wasn’t enough, Zac presented me with another investment opportunity: a business centered around the Moringa plant in Ethiopia. He pitched it as low-risk, with the potential for high returns and the added appeal of supporting Black businesses in Africa. He presented me with diagrams, mocks, financials, a business plan, and extensive research. I invested $40,000, and we formed a company called the Moringa Cartel. Through documented email presentations, Zac promised to establish operations in Ghana, help with the business plan, and set up the website. I was excited about the prospects, but the excitement was short-lived.

Trust Your Gut

Once the money was sent and the paperwork signed, unease set in. I noticed discrepancies, like the fact that our business was registered in Nevada, even though we were all based in the Mid-Atlantic region. I decided to dig deeper, using the state of Nevada’s business portal, Silver Flume. What I found left me reeling: only the company formed between Lauryn, Zac, and me existed as a domestic corporation. My name wasn’t listed anywhere, and neither was Zac’s. Lauryn was the sole officer of the company. As for the Moringa Cartel, it was nothing more than a name reservation that had expired three months after its formation. On paper, my $100,000 investment had vanished into thin air.

“All Skinfolk Ain’t Kinfolk”

The pandemic hit, bringing unforeseen challenges. Despite this, I consistently reached out to Zac for updates. I pleaded with Lauryn to help, assuming her closer relationship with Zac might yield answers. But her relationship with Zac had soured, and she informed me that her new venture with a national television show prevented her from pursuing any legal action for at least a year. I was on my own.

I demanded that Zac dissolve my participation in the business and return my funds. His response was vague, promising to return the money once his partner returned from overseas. But days turned into weeks, and I received nothing but silence. Then, instead of the money, I received a cease-and-desist letter — a blatant attempt to intimidate me. My attorney dismissed it as legally invalid, but the damage was done. I realized too late that I should have involved legal counsel from the start.

Desperate, I contacted the Prince George’s County Financial Crimes Division and met with a detective. Lauryn accompanied me, providing proof of her own financial losses. The detective initially suspected she and Zac were working together to scam me, but her evidence showed otherwise. Still, the State’s Attorney’s office couldn’t help; our losses, though significant to us, didn’t meet the threshold for prosecution.

The Aftermath

The full scope of Zac’s betrayal came to light when I discovered another woman who had fallen victim to his schemes. Through social media, I connected with a young lady on Facebook who had also been scammed by Zac. Her story mirrored Lauryn’s — she, too, had trusted him, invested in his ventures, and been left with nothing but broken promises. She had been physically and romantically involved. The end result was a broken heart and $60,000 poorer. Her story was both devastating and validating. We were not alone, but that did little to ease the pain.

In total, I had invested $100,000 — $60,000 in the CBD skincare line and $40,000 in the Moringa Cartel. But the financial loss was just one part of the devastation. The betrayal cut deeper. Lauryn, the sister I had trusted implicitly, had unknowingly led me into the arms of a predator. Zac had exploited her vulnerability, using our friendship as a tool to manipulate and deceive.

I was left with nothing — no money, no business, and no means of contacting Zac. Emails bounced back, texts went unread, and calls went straight to voicemail. I had been swindled out of $100,000, and there was no way to recover it. Heartbroken, Lauryn had lost $50,000 and wanted nothing more to do with the situation.

Lessons Learned

Looking back, the signs were there. But I ignored them, blinded by the desire to support a friend in need and the allure of a promising business opportunity. I’ve since learned the hard way that when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. In the end, I had to come to terms with the trauma of losing everything because I let my desire to help a friend cloud my judgment. I was emotionally invested in Lauryn’s well-being, but I failed to do my due diligence on Zac. I trusted blindly and paid a heavy price.

Conclusion

In the end, the story isn’t just about a lost investment or a failed business venture. It’s about the importance of critical thinking, the danger of blind loyalty, and the painful reality that not everyone who enters your life has good intentions. I was betrayed by a man I barely knew, but also by my own willingness to believe in the impossible.

Let this be a reminder: Protect your dreams but protect your heart and your wallet even more. This experience has left me scarred, but it has also made me wiser. I share this story not to shame myself or Lauryn, but to warn others. In the world of business, and in life, there are those who will prey on your goodwill and ambition. The best defense is vigilance — ask questions, trust your instincts, and never let excitement cloud your judgment.

[popnoir]

⠀⃞✦ &. 6183k ; unnameable, undefinable, unhelpfully: good     ───   as told through the eyes of kim hongjoong

characters: ateez ensemble, little house ensemble, wendy's haeyoung, dal and hada lee ( brief apperance ! )

warnings: n/a

author's note: when i was first writing this i was like okay the big intro to the friendship start and its eventual breakdown BUT everything felt so disconnected but still connected ? partly bc i wanted to shove it all in one piece SOOOO this should be read like different memories hj had during his trainee years with the gang ( tm ) so they aren’t written in a linear timeline to reflect the idk passage of memory or some metaphorical type shit. ANYWAYS thank you sososos much for taking the time to read this piece !!!!

KQ existed as a small dot on the wide landscape of the entertainment world. At the start, there are only a handful of staff, a small spark nicknamed dream, and three trainees that make up the in progress debut team. Hongjoong was one of them—the first of little stars mapping the eventual end goal: a boy group.

For two weeks, he had assumed it was just him because for two weeks, JC and Saint—the other two trainees—had successfully avoided ever being seen by him. He’d only learned they existed because of Eden who had asked: “You met the others yet?” prompting confusion and later the realization that he wasn’t as alone as he had initially thought.

Perhaps, it wasn’t intentional. Perhaps, they too had been long unaware of Hongjoong’s existence, believing that in this small corner of the world only they existed. With that in mind, Hongjoong decided to take it upon himself to break this shared delusion of the three—if only to bridge the gap that separated them from him.

Trying to find JC and Saint was easier said than done. Often, he thought he caught them lingering outside doors or around a corner. Each time he’d check, he was met with nothing but his own shadow, stretching across the floor as his only companion. Still, now that he knew about them it became easier to find evidence they were here: a small bag tucked in a corner, laces left in the practice room, patches and other odd memorabilia in places he’d never think to keep such an item. When he found them, he’d leave the items in a neat pile. The next day, they’d be gone, taken by their original owners to wherever it was they came from.

By week two, Hongjoong’s hope of meeting the twins on his own terms had become a dull flame. He struggled to keep it bright, but every attempt was returned with nothing. He was chasing his own shadow in the halls. He was seeing his own reflection to greet. He was seeing himself everywhere, and the other two were nowhere to be found. Because he stopped looking, he never expected to meet the younger of the two first. 

JC was leaning against the wall adjacent to the training room. His eyes flickered to and from—mapping the walls, the ground, and all the doors. He hummed quietly, finally looking at Hongjoong who had come to a halt a little ways from him, laptop bag hanging off his shoulder, opened as a result of his forgetfulness. 

JC stood up right, and he was far taller than Hongjoong would have expected. 

He said, “Hi.”

And Hongjoong replied, suddenly shy: “Hi.”

JC shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a small plastic bag decorated in bright pink hearts. He held it out to Hongjoong who carefully took it into his hand. As he opened the bag, JC turned to walk away. Calling over his shoulder, he said: “Thanks for finding our stuff.”

In the bag was an assortment of cookies, varying in shapes, sizes, and colors. Hongjoong shoved the bag in his pocket, stumbling after the other boy. “Wait—“ But JC had already disappeared around the corner, taking with him his precious little tune.

They met frequently after that, but these meets were always in passing. JC would spare him nothing but a glance: fleeting, so fast that if Hongjoong weren’t always watching for him he’d miss them. These meets were not concrete the way a formal introduction would be, but these meets were moments that helped Hongjoong define the younger twin JC.

For example, he was always leaving things in odd places. Behind a speaker, in a chair, outside the bathroom. Each time, Hongjoong would pick up these little items and set them in a place they could be found. Each time, JC would be found by the training room door, a bag of cookies and a thank you in return.

This time, he asked: “Do you like them?” as he handed Hongjoong the too bright, decorative bag. 

The cookies were a little sweet. If he ate more than two in a sitting, he’d feel a jolt of energy before it fizzed into a stomach ache. Despite the overt sweetness, they were baked well. He could tell a lot of thought and effort went into making them as perfect as perfect could be.

 “I like them.” He held them close as possible, as if to defend them from JC’s questioning look, the subtle teasing of his tone that hinted he was not the biggest fan of these cookies.

“Really?” JC raised an eyebrow. “Saint’s a shit baker. Everything’s so sweet and—” he shook his head, laughing a little. “Well, if you like them you like them.” He turned on his heel, walking away to wherever it was he tended to go. Hongjoong had learned it was difficult to try to catch up to JC. He blamed this on JC’s too long legs and the speed he walked as if he had to be somewhere else at that very moment

Hongjoong called after him. “Please tell Saint I said thank you.”

Thrown over JC’s shoulder, tethering along fondness: “Anything for you, Joong.”

“They’re always together,” Eden told him. “Strange you haven’t bumped into Saint yet.”

Hongjoong wondered if they were identical. Maybe he was meeting Saint when he thought it was JC, but if that were the case he would have learned, by now, how to differentiate them. So, he decided to define Saint in the unknown things of JC. Of these unknowns, there were many. He had no idea where he’d start or where he could stop and he thought it unfair to Saint to do such a thing. Saint was their own person as much as JC was. So, he threw away that decision, deciding instead to wait it out. Maybe they’d meet when he least expected it.

He did know one thing about Saint. Their favorite flavor was chocolate. Every cookie he had been given from them, consisted of some type of chocolate worked into the batter or the decoration. Chocolate chips, double chocolate, chocolate covered peanuts, chocolate glaze, and even a warm chocolate center that had hardened indicating it was left to sit for too long. If it could be made with chocolate, Saint would make it with chocolate.

JC and Saint disappeared often, hiding in places small enough he couldn't see, but big enough for them to squeeze in. These were some places in-between Hongjoong's world and the one they wanted to escape back to. 

The eventual meeting was a quick affair. JC and Saint were trainees as much as he was so they couldn't miss out on practice nor could they hide from their eventual group member forever. This would be their first practice together. Hongjoong was as excited as he was nervous. How they had managed to go this long without practicing with him was a mystery, but he figured JC and Saint had found a way to bend the rules in their favor until no more bending could be done. Or, maybe they wanted to meet Hongjoong the same way he wanted to meet them.

The room wasn't big enough for JC and Saint to sit far away from him. However, he didn’t want to disturb them, come off weird, or even too strong so Hongjoong sat closer to one side while the twins occupied the other.

Saint had sprawled out on the floor, eyes shut. Soft snores left their sleeping figure, but their feet moved left and right as if trying to perfect missed steps in their sleep. They were a mass of grays and dull blues—thanks to their sneakers. From where he sat, Hongjong couldn’t make out their features, but he could see a bit of JC in their nose.

JC sat upright next to them, doodling on the floor with a black marker, making faces at his sketches and mumbling quietly as he did so. There were other doodles all around the company building. Hongjoong had seen aliens and astronauts and big flowers and fluffy dogs. He’d seen smiley faces in the places he mostly frequented, chalking this down to coincidence and not an intentional hello from the doodle’s owner. 

Carefully and as slowly as he could, Hongjoong approached them: “Hello.” In his hand, he held a jar of sand, freshly sourced over the weekend when he’d gone home to see his parents. “This is for you.”

He’d packed the sand into the biggest jar his mom was willing to give him. Then, he’d painted the bottom half blue with fluffy white clouds trailing all the way to the top of the cap. It’d taken five hours to get all this done because Hongjoong had wanted it to look as good as possible. The first two hours had been spent nursing a sunburn he’d acquired from the trip, ignoring his dads playful: “I told you to put on sunscreen”.

Jc studied the jar then Hongjoong’s bright eyes before settling on the jar again. Hongjoong added as if JC didn’t already know: “It’s sand.”

“Why?”

When he’d walked over, Hongjoong felt more confident. “It’s—it’s a gift?” But the small question from JC, and his evident confusion, led Hongjoong to wonder if maybe this was a bad idea.

“Yeah, but,” JC pointed to the jar, “why?”

“Eden-hyung said you liked the beach.” He’d been getting most of his information from Eden who would never tell Hongjoong how it was he knew what he knew about the other two trainees. 

“But that’s sand in a jar.”

“Well, the blue is the water and then the clouds are the sky. You know how they make clouds in—“

JC turned to Saint, his hand coming down hard and firm against their stomach. “Dude.” JC let out a quiet laugh. “Dude, look at this.” Saint rolled to their side, waving off JC, but the other continued to hit them though not as hard as before with how much he was laughing.

Hongjoong left the jar on the ground, leaving the room with nothing but sunburn and embarrassment to show for his efforts. The next time he saw Eden, he told him: “Just stop telling me things.” And the older gave him a look as if to say What a strange kid.

The next day, JC greeted him with a bow before their practice. The day after that, he tugged Saint to where Hongjoong usually sat, not too far but not too close to their side of the room.

Up close, Saint wasn’t that scary. Their eyes were sharp but curious, contrasting the roundness of their face—which was on the chubbier side. When Saint smiled, they did so with their whole face and when they spoke it was loud and clear even if their Korean wasn’t the best. “I’m Saint.” They pointed to themselves as if to clarify they were Saint and no one else.

There was a warmth to Saint he hadn't expected. Hongjoong had become used to a different image of Saint: an indifferent gaze, their turned back, and the quiet they would often step in, tuning out the rest of the world to sit and watch and wonder. This was juxtaposed by the cookies they baked for him which had initially led him to think perhaps Saint flickered between warm and cool moments.

Carefully, Hongjoong said: “I know.” Worried that anything else would cause the warmth of Saint to freeze. 

“I’m JC.” The twins were not nearly as similar as he had first suspected. He already knew JC was tall and he knew the twins weren't identical, but he expected more overlap. He liked JC’s style and the casualness of the way he carried himself. JC seemed friendlier from their brief meetings, but now that Saint was here—Hongjoong wondered if there was no such thing as a friendlier one between the twins. Or if this friendliness were a scale they slid along—with JC on one end and Saint, naturally, on the other.

“I know that too.”

They wait for him, expectant and eager and hopeful so Hongjoong offered: “I’m Hongjoong.”

“Thank you for the sand,” JC adds. “I’m keeping it safe.” JC’s eyes were a lot rounder — bigger. There was a twinkle of some sort of emotion. Had he known JC better, Hongjoong wondered if he might be able to name it. Still, Hongjoong figured it was a good thing as evident from JC’s smile and the volume of Saint’s earlier greeting, still bouncing against his skin as if trying to dig a way to the very center of his self.

These things—the new warmth, JC’s emotion filled eyes, Saint’s emotion filled voice, the acknowledgment of his efforts, even the fact they greeted him first—were unlocking a Pandora’s box of feelings within Hongjoong. Unnameable and undefinable—they were seeding in the pits of his stomach as if getting ready to grow something that could only be summarized, unhelpfully, as good. His skin felt electric, and fire walked up his hands, his neck, before dancing across his face.

He thought: I feel like I could do anything. He believed he could too. 

Hongjooong had so much he wanted to say to JC and Saint. They stood around him patiently as if expecting his eventual questions, silently communicating rehearsed answers between themselves.

Hongjoong wanted to ask about the beach and their infatuation with it. He wanted to ask about their parents and why they picked KQ. He wanted to ask where they disappeared to when no one was looking. He wanted to ask about the nature of these secret places and if he could come too if he promised not to tell anyone. He wanted to ask if they were ever lonely here and he wanted to assure that if they were they don’t have to be because he was here with them too. This was the only way loneliness could be soothed: in the company of others.

Most importantly, Hongjoong wanted to ask: Can we please be friends? 

All of this—and more—came out in a simple, “You’re welcome.” 

More and more trainees began to fill up KQ. Before Hongjoong knew it, there were eleven of them.  They navigated each other as if they were all strange new creatures in a strange new world. Wide eyed, hesitant, and ever so curious. They tried to be careful with their words, their actions, but fights were inevitable. Sour attitudes came and went. A too soft word could be flipped into something angry, hot. But they were trying. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

JC and Saint didn’t disappear anymore. Often, Hongjoong would see a flicker of their want to. Especially with Saint who was more quiet around the others, watching the other trainees cautiously, and shying away from interactions outside of practice.

“Saints like super shy,” JC had explained once, grabbing one of Hongjoong’s shoe laces and tugging. “I’m not though.”

“Uh huh,” Hongjoong swatted at his hands, crouching to fix them. It was JC’s turn to swat his hand as he relooped Hongjoong’s laces, paused, then tugged at them again.

“But they’ll be okay.” JC assured, and then, thoughtfully: “I think we’ll all be okay.”

Only Mingi could get a rise out of Saint. Everyone but Saint seemed to understand this. Mingi’s own understanding of this might have been why he pushed twice as hard when Saint did. And the 99 liners—after finding out they shared the same birth year—would follow suit, surrounding Saint and pushing and tugging until all of that quietness had become a mix of playful annoyance and feigned irritation. 

JC and Saint eventually moved into the trainee dorms with the rest of them, no longer separated by the long path they took to get home. With them, a bag each and a container of baked goods their mom made. By the time the container had made its way to Hongjoong, it was completely empty save for crumbs. Wooyoung had taken the tupperware back, licked up the crumbs, and given the container to Hongjoong with a wide grin. 

“J,” Haeyoung beamed, “You can room with me.” He didn’t mention that JC would most likely end up in a room shared with Haeyoung and three or four others. Yeosang tried to point that out, but Haeyoung shushed him loudly and repeatedly until the other boy gave up with a bit of a pout.

Haeyoung was a year younger than Hongjoong, the youngest of the 99 liners, and had befriended JC and Saint far quicker than Hongjoong had. Even Saint had talked to him first before the other trainees. He was personable and friendly and seemed to understand how the twins operated in a way Hongjoong couldn’t. 

“He doesn’t like to be called that,” Hongjoong told Haeyoung. 

“Why not?”

“Cause JC’s already a nickname.”

Haeyoung’s eyes grew wide. He walked to JC, taking his bag, and asked, “What’s it stand for?”

JC shrugged, letting Haeyoung take his bag. “No clue.” He turned to Saint, hand outstretched to take their own bag, but stilled when he noticed fat tears making its way down their cheeks. His very quiet, almost panicked “Saint—” had caught the others' attention. 

“Sorry,” Saint said, wiping at their face, embarrassed. “I just need a second.” They stepped out in the hallway, the door closing behind them.

Sadly, Yunho said, “It must be a really embarrassing name for Saint to cry like that.”

Despite himself, JC choked out a laugh. He gave Yunho a playful glare, spinning on his heel to follow after Saint. He was stopped by Mingi, tugging his hand and asking, “Do you mind if I-” He stopped short, hoping the rest of what he wanted to say was clear. 

JC looked to Hongjoong, waiting. Confused, Hongjoong nodded slowly.

To Mingi, JC said: “I don't mind at all.”

Mingi slipped out of the hall after Saint, door closing halfway. Hongjoong counted to three, only reaching two before Wooyoung tried and failed to nonchalantly walk over, trying and failing at pretending he wasn't peering out the door crack. Following him were San, Yunho, and Yeosang—all whistling as casually as possible to play up their nonexistent innocence as accomplices to the crime.

Eventually Jongho and Seonghwa found their way over. Though they at least appeared sheepish at the look Hongjoong was giving him.

“Guys,” Hongjoong scolded. “C'mon!”

Wooyoung waved him off. “Either join us or shut up.”

“Join them,” Haeyoung clarified. “I just wanted to stand next to you, Hongjoong.” He batted his eyelashes in the direction of Hongjoong. Haeyoung was the closest to the door despite being one of the last to crowd around it. Hongjoong rolled his eyes at the other, shoving Haeyoung away as gently as he could.

“You guys are like really nosy,” JC said, having joined the group in their spying.

“Can you blame us?” Wooyoung asked. “You and Saint like never talk about yourselves. We don’t know anything about you.”

Defensive, JC replied, “I talk about myself all the time.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes huh.”

“You only ever talk about Saint,” Jongho cut in. “And Saint only ever talks about you.” Mentally, Hongjoong thanked their youngest for stepping in as he knew just like they all did that Wooyoung and JC’s back and forth would spiral into hours worth of nuh uhs and yes huhs as their nonarguments always tended to.

JC leaned into Jongho, wide eyed as he asked: “Why are you guys talking about me? Huh? Huh?” Jongho rolled his eyes, weakly shoving JC away from him. Dramatically, JC stumbled into Haeyoung, groaning. “Why’s that guy so strong?”

Hongjoong watched the careful path Haeyoung’s hand took from JC’s shoulder to his hand, squeezing. “I only say really mean things by the way,” Haeyoung added with a grin.

JC matched his grin, a teasing lilt to his tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Hongjoong frowned, watching the two. 

In the midst of all this, he hadn’t noticed Saint until they cleared their throat to catch everyone’s attention. They asked, “What are you guys doing?” This prompted the others to move from the door, running off in different directions.

JC jabbed at Saint’s arm, nodded once then took off after the others, making sure to grab Saint’s bag of things in the process.

“You cool?” Hongjoong asked.

Saint nodded, saying as nonchalantly as they could, “I’m cool.”

He peered around Saint to where Mingi still stood in the hall, staring dumbly at his hand. He spread out his fingers then slowly curled them, ears turning red. When he looked over to Saint, he met Hongjoong’s eyes, suddenly embarrassed at having been caught at—well, Hongjoong wasn't sure. He wondered what he’d missed while he watched the other boys.  

They spend more and more time training. While it was still fun, there was less and less time to mess around. Everything had to be perfect—an expectation from the company, but also one that came from each of them.

The air felt magnetized. There were less jokes and less talking from the others as they focused on not messing up. These days, Hongjoong couldn’t hide a bubbling irritation that stemmed from a newfound dislike for Haeyoung. Haeyoung had gotten so close to JC in the short time they’d known each other. They were always together and Hongjoong had found it harder to hang out with JC. If JC wasn’t with Haeyoung, they were training, and if they weren’t training he was with Haeyoung. 

Even now, they were together as JC helped Haeyoung work through one step after the other. JC and Saint appeared to be the only ones not really affected by the weird energy. When the twins did get irritated or annoyed, Hongjoong had learned that Saint would stay after hours to work through the dance again and again until Seonghwa came to drag them to bed. This was something only Seonghwa could do as Saint refused to listen to common sense coming from anyone else. 

For JC, Hongjoong knew he’d lock himself in the bathroom, stewing in quiet and silent anger until it fizzled out and he could be in a room with the boys without snapping or coming off as condescending. He had done this once to Yeosang, and the resulting back and forth between JC and Wooyoung only came to a halt when Saint convinced Jongho to fake tears and beg them to stop. 

Still, those times were rare. Mostly, the two were rather good at hiding things. 

The others seemed to be going out of their way to avoid him. Hongjoong understood why, but their attempts to appease his mood only made it worse. 

Haeyoung stumbled again with a frustrated sigh. “We’ve been in here forever.” 

Hongjoong snapped, “Maybe we’d get out of here sooner if you stopped fucking up.”

He had sucked up all the bad energy and let it spark, burning up the earlier tension as if it never existed to begin with. Now, there was only a nervous type of silence as the others tried to figure out exactly what to do next.

Seonghwa clapped. Once. Twice. “Let’s take a break.” His tone left no room for argument, not that anyone would try to argue against it.

JC held up the bright blue tupperware he’d come in with earlier, shooing away curious hands and the repeated questions of whatcha got there? “My mom made—'' He was crowded in an instant, greedy hands tugging at the tupperware as JC begged them to give him a second to atleast open it. San had made sure to tug Haeyoung along, making it clear to Hongjoong they were all working together to soothe the burn of his earlier outburst. He felt proud they were quick thinkers — that everyone could work together to fix his mistakes without outright chewing him out for it. But his pride was buried under all his irritation when Haeyoung leaned closer to JC, scrambling to grab something before everyone else ate it all. 

“Hey.” He hadn’t noticed Saint was standing next to him till they spoke. “Come with me.”

Hongjoong shook his head, defiant. “We’re still at—”

Saint grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the door. Hongjoong huffed but let Saint lead him out. He threw a glance over his shoulder to see JC watching him. JC raised a hand in farewell. He mouthed something, but Hongjoong wasn’t sure what.

Hongjoong and Saint leave the company building, walking aimlessly until they decide to go to the convenience store they always frequent. The college kid that worked there paid them no mind even as Saint opened up a bag of chips to snack on. They walk laps around the store, eventually stopping where all the ice cream was stored. It was the start of summer so there was still a coolness to the air the summer heat didn't swallow. In the store, the AC had stopped working, leaving the place far hotter than the outdoors. Saint pressed their cheek against the cool fridge then stepped back from it, frowning and realizing that wasn’t a good idea.

The walk had helped to clear the fog in Hongjoong’s head. Now, he only felt bad for his earlier comment at Haeyoung. He felt bad for saying it in front of the others. He felt bad that they had to defuse a situation he caused.

“You cool?” Saint asked.

“I'm cool.”

Saint nodded, shoving another handful of chips in their mouth. “You know, Joong, you're JC’s very first friend.” 

More guilt began to pool into his system. He wondered if to JC, it appeared he was jealous of his friendship with Haeyoung or worse, he didn’t want the two to be freinds. It wasn’t that. There was something else Hongjoong was finding very difficult to put into words. He felt as if there was something he was going to lose to Haeyoung. To be exact: he felt he might lose JC to Haeyoung and he wasn’t quite sure why his skin itched at the idea. He’d never thought he could ever lose Saint nor did JC’s proximity with their other friends ever elicit similar ideas. The more he thought about the whys the harder it was to understand. 

Too focused on his own thoughts, he almost missed Saint's quiet addition: “You're my first friend too.” This stunned him, and his earlier thoughts had all been stopped. Instead, he turned this admission of Saint’s over and over, allowing it to stew and simmer.

Hongjoong shook his head, suddenly tearful. “Oh c'mon, I'm sure — I'm sure other people have—”

“I grew up on some nowhere beach with just my brother after our parents bailed on us.” This was the only time Saint had ever shared anything about their parents or what they got up to when they lived in America. Finally, Hongjoong understood their infatuation with the beach even though Saint tried to downplay what it truly meant to them. “And then I came here and didn't speak a lick of the language. And I guess you can say I’m a little shy.” They joked. “Making friends was never going to be easy for me.”

Hongjoong stared at the rows of ice cream, trying desperately not to cry in the almost empty store. He didn’t dare look at Saint, knowing if he did he wouldn’t be able to control his tears. If he started crying now, he might never stop as a response to how earnest and honest Saint was being.

“You’re also my best friend.” He could hear it in Saint’s voice too. “That means everything to me.”

“Me too.” Was all he could say. It means everything to me too.

They buy ice cream for the others before heading back to the company. By now, everyone had cooled off if they hadn’t already. There was nothing left in the tupperware and Saint fake cried as they held the empty container, mourning the missed experience of their mom’s brownies.

“You guys are like animals,” JC said, watching as the boys practically ripped the bag from Hongjoong in order to claim an ice cream bar. “Wait, wait, is that strawberry?” 

Hongjong nudged Haeyoung who nudged him in return. “I’m sorry.” Hongjoong said, meeting his eyes. 

“I know.” Haeyoung broke into a smile that became a little sad as he repeated, “I know.” Hongjoong ducked his head to avoid that smile, wondering what it was Haeyoung was sure he knew and why Hongjoong was unaware of this thing that remained so unknown to him.

On one of the rare days they get off, JC asked: “Do you guys wanna meet my mom?”

It’s a last minute decision to make a day out of meeting JC and Saint’s mom. They live in Seoul next to her bakery so they’re not far from the company building. Hada closed the bakery on Sundays. She had started to do so years ago when all of her kids still lived with her.

Their house was cozy and it reminded Hongjoong of his own home and his own parents. He made a mental note to call them later.

Loudly and together, JC and Saint yelled, “We’re home!” There were rushed footsteps from the stairs, stumbling, cursing, and finally the appearance of Dal, their older sister. When JC and Saint had told everyone the soloist was related to them, nobody believed them until they called her on the phone and she promised free concert tickets.

“These are our friends,” JC said. “Friends, this is Dal.”

“You jokers have friends?” Dal laughed. “These guys are probably as weird as you.”

JC began to scream, “Mom! Mom! Mom-”

Dal rushed to silence him, clamping a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t even do anything! You’re always trying to get me in trouble. You little—”

“We're going to debut together,” Saint told Dal, glancing at where Yunho was making faces at the family pictures of JC and Saint. Hongjoong stole a look at the photos, surprised that at some point in time JC had been shorter than Saint. “As our—” Saint stopped short not sure what that word was, but also to grab Yunho from wandering farther unsupervised.

“Sunbaenim,” Yunho offered with a big smile. 

“Yeah that!” Saint squinted at him, contemplating his release, but ultimately deciding against it. “As our whatever he said, shouldn't you give us some words of advice?”

Dal let go of JC, wiping her hand on his cheek—wet from all the licks he gave it so she would let him go. He recoiled, but was held firmly in place by Dal’s free hand as she continued to clean off her hand. To the others she said, “Being an idol is a lot of work. The industry's tough and the public's hard to please. If you're not careful you can fall into the cracks and sometimes your shit won’t sell even if you think it’s good and—” She stopped, noticing the nervousness that passed across their faces. Smiling, she said, “But I think—I know you guys will be fine. You've got each other after all.”

Jongho dryly asked, “Did you get that bit off a fortune cookie?”

Dal's expression soured as the group began to laugh. “Man whatever.”

They meet Hada on their way to JC and Saint’s room. She didn’t look that much older than Dal, and they looked nothing alike despite being mother and daughter. Her hair was dyed a bright orange that was fading at the ends and her dark roots were starting to come in. She was short, barely coming up to Hongjoong’s shoulders, and dressed in an old college sweatshirt that was three sizes too big. 

She greeted the boys with a warm smile. “Hello!”

He was taken back by how bright and bubbly Hada and even Dal were compared to JC and Saint. Hada was on her way to pick up groceries so she couldn’t stay long, but she promised the boys she’d get to talk to them later.

Though JC and Saint have the biggest room, there was not a lot in it. The walls were bare and the only spot of color were the bedsheets. JC’s was blue and Saint’s was yellow. Even the dressers were left empty. There was one suitcase they shoved their stuff in, and Mingi had taken it upon himself to start rummaging through it asking ever so often: “Can I have this?” Only to be met with Saints meaningless threat: “If you don’t get the fuck out of that suitcase.” He kept whatever it was he wanted anyways, folding it and neatly putting it inside the bag he’d brought with him for this very reason.

“We have to get you guys like posters or something,” San said, hopping onto JC’s bed. He studied the singular stuffed animal that had claimed the foot of the bed as home. It was oddly shaped, and dull in color thanks to how long it’d been in JC’s possession. It had three heads of varying sizes and only three legs since the fourth had been replaced by a patch, messily sown on. “What is this supposed to be?”

“Andy the Ant,” JC beamed. “Cute, right?”

San wrinkled his nose, slowly turning away from the ant. “Sure.”

When it’s time to sleep, they pile in the living room since JC and Saint’s room didn’t have enough space for all of them. In order to decide who gets the couch, they play Mario Kart. Dal joined halfway through and won three rounds before they kicked her out of their game. She called them sore losers on her way out, trudging away like a kicked puppy.

JC eventually won, claiming the couch as his while the others slept on piles of blankets and pillows Hada had bought so they could be as comfortable as possible.

Sleep came quick and easy as the earlier excitement from the day began to wear off. Hongjoong stared up at the ceiling, dozing on and off. He was closest to the couch so it was easy for JC to reach down, and tap his face.

“Joong?” 

“Mm?”

“Are you awake?”

“Mm.”

There was a pause. “Come up here.”

Hongjoong stumbled out of the sheets, careful to not disturb anyone next to him. He moved up to the couch as he laid down next to JC. His eyes were still shut and he was still tired as JC hooked his leg around him, shuffling to ensure Hongjoong was secure in his hold.

“Do you think they know a little bit about me and Saint now?”

“I think so.” Hongjoong murmured. He did at least. “Your mom's nice. So is Dal.”

“They'd like that you said.”

Hongjoong smiled at that and had to keep his smile from growing when JC pulled him closer. 

Very quietly, JC asked, “Joong?”

“Yeah?” He opened his eyes, suddenly aware of just how close they were.

“Do you still want to be friends with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” It was too dark to make out JC’s expression. Hongjoong’s vision blurred with sleep. He wished he could see JC clearly, to make out the look in his eyes. To really know why JC would think he didn’t want to be friends.

He reached for where he thought JC’s face would be. Found his neck then went up, along his cheek, his nose, his brow. Then the corner of his mouth. His thumb pressed to his bottom lip.

Everything was still too new. Too special. He was JC’s first friend: this was a heavyweight he had to carry. One that filled him with so much grief as it denied him something else, but one that left him wishing he had known the younger JC—and the younger Saint because how could he not think of them too—before they had to leave their home on the beach.

“It’d be weird if we weren’t friends anymore,” Hongjoong murmured, his heart squeezing in his chest. 

Quietly, JC agreed, “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” 

They lay their quietly for a little longer before Hongjoong slowly moved his hand. As his hand retreated, JC ducked his head pressing his lips against Hongjoong’s thumb. Then, he said, “Goodnight, Joong.”

“Goodnight, JC.”

Sometime in the night, Hongjoong woke up, too warm thanks to the shared heat of himself and JC. He studied JC’s face, the brightness of the moon illuminating his features better. He pressed his thumb to his own mouth, suddenly aware and suddenly conflicted and suddenly sad in a way he couldn’t explain.

There was a different type of loneliness Hongjoong found himself in now. It was different from his early trainee days, when all wanted was to simply be JC and Saint’s friend. In those early days, he had orbited around them the way the moon does the Earth, dimming in brightness until they met him halfway in orbit, finally giving him the thing he wanted. He knew what everything meant in relation to himself, JC, and Saint. He knew he could break everything if he wanted to. He didn’t know if he wanted to. 

But he knew that this—the eleven of them together—was better than nothing.

[gurofushi]

“i left love letters in your locker, don't forget to read them.”

𝜗𝜚 saiki kuriko x fem! reader. (fluff)

warnings; none. <3

a/n; kusuo as a girl (kuriko) is actually so pretty oml i HAD to write something about her :<

🦷 (apologies for any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language^^)

recess was about to end soon. you and your usual circle of friends were sitting at a table somewhere near the entrance of the cafeteria.

they were being loud as usual, but you didn't mind, they were your best friends after all.

though for some reason, you couldn't seem to focus on whatever topic they were shouting on about to eachother.

instead, your mind was being occupied by a pink haired friend of yours, one that was sitting right across from you on the table.

saiki kuriko, she was one of your closest friends and long time crush.

she was quiet, reserved and liked to be alone most of the time, but you'd always find yourself spending time with her quite often.

even though she doesn't really say much, she has always had this silent charm to her that has never failed to draw all of your attention to her.

despite all of your feelings towards her, you knew that you could never confess, you were too scared to cause you knew you could possibly put your current friendship into jeopardy.

‘i'm completely happy with staying friends with her.. right? yeah, i totally am. she doesn't have to know anything, i don't wanna lose her.’

well, too bad for you. kuriko could only raise her eyebrows as she heard your thoughts.

unbeknownst to you, kuriko felt the exact same way. only difference is, she had already planned on confessing her feelings to you.

her plan was already underway as of right now.

so far, she successfully wrote three long and heartfelt letters expressing her admiration and love for you.

that was a lie. each letter only had ‘i like you.’ ‘you're very pretty.’ and ‘be my girlfriend.’ written on them. she tried her best.

she was able to teleport those letters into your locker, in exchange for some silly cat drawings you kept. (but don't worry, she made sure to remember to give them back to you.)

now, all she had to do was to tell you about the written confession she left so that you wouldn't miss them before you went home.

easy enough right?

wrong, seems like kuriko didn't think hard enough about that part.

there's no way she would actually *tell you* that she was confessing. that's absur–

ringgg!

the bell rung, signalling the students to go back to each of their classes.

each of you stood up from your seats and started to bid eachother goodbye before making your way out of the cafeteria.

“y/n, wait.”

kuriko held your wrist to prevent you from walking for a moment. you turned to look at her, and so did your other friends.

unfortunately, kuriko didn't notice that they did. her focus was completely on you.

“ah, yes?”

“i left love letters in your locker, don't forget to read them.”

she told you bluntly. you were stunned, unable to move as your mouth hung open.

after a moment of silence, you quickly regained your composure and nodded with slightly red cheeks.

“o-oh, i see. okay, kuriko. ill be sure to read them.”

kuriko only responded with a nod and slight smile before turning away and walking towards her next class.

she felt accomplished, all she had to do now was to wait for your response to her feelings, even though she already knew your answer, she wanted to hear it come out of your own mouth.

“woaah, y/n! didn't know our pal kuriko had the hots for ya! congratulations!”

she froze as her train of thought suddenly came to a halt.

others thoughts started to fill her brain as she slowly realized what she did.

she DID NOT just tell you that in front of all the others.. right?

‘im done for.’

this was way too rushed than i intended it to be 😭 it's literally almost 1 in the morning and im just finishing this up.

i hope this was still readable anyway, i promise that ill be posting better stuff soon! xoxo

[midori-laboratories]

Paper Tigers: A Calendula Chronicles anthology (Chapter 3: Ruined Gifts)

Story summary:

The nascent Umbrella Corporation is finding its legs. Marigold Ashford is starting over after the death of her father, her brother's exile, and a secret exposure to the mother virus in Africa. With a little work, she's managed to chart her own course within the company while holding onto control of her life by her fingernails.

Then again, success breeds jealousy and insecurity. For the first time, Marigold will have to handle the accompanying dangers alone. One-shots, filling in the 1969-1981 era of development largely skipped over in Flowers and Ash, Focusing on the moments where the virus, her reputation, and her career collide.

As Marigold contemplates the possibility of letting Lord Spencer in on her condition in 1972, Spencer sends Marigold on a strange goodwill mission to a village outside Brasov, Romania.

CW: attempted drugging, attempted murder

A Village outside Brasov, Romania, Late Spring, 1972

A few years earlier, Marigold Ashford had learned that she had a strong resistance to toxins. It had been an incidental discovery, one that could be filed away for later while she dealt with the bastard at hand.

Now, it seemed like deliverance. As the tremors began to set in, Marigold looked from her glass to the old woman across the table with a sense of detached horror, and hoped that it would be enough.

-----

Three days earlier, she had arrived in Brasov.

And, oh, it had an Old World beauty that London had lost in the bombardment of the Second World War. London’s charm had a sleeker veneer of modernity associated with it. Geneva had been more like this, but even then, Brasov’s antiquity held tangible weight.

Meeting her at the Romanian airport was one Luca Bogdhan, along with a small retinue of bureaucrats. They had escorted her directly from the terminal (apologetically explaining that her movements in Brasov would be strictly monitored- something she had been told to expect in the Eastern Bloc country). The trade office was happy to work with British investors, after all, and Umbrella was becoming a growing force on the European market.

The next morning had been all business- a pickup from the charming little hotel downtown to the Trade Ministry office. Umbrella had proposed a friendship with a small village in the mountains with whom the company’s founder had a fondness, and wished to open a channel.

Easier said than done; the village in question had an old and evil reputation. It had rather actively and successfully repelled modernization as oil repelled water.

But…the Cold War wouldn’t last forever. Or else, the definition of forever would be significantly foreshortened, at any rate. Business and life went on, here and everywhere else. 

Umbrella’s offer also meant opening up regional offices within the country. The offer that Marigold carried to them was a rising tide, and all could benefit- that was, if they could steel their nerves and take the offer to one backward little village.

On the second day, Luca showed up at her door and offered to escort her on a tour of his fair city. Tourists who came here were often after the Gothic allure that Bram Stoker had built up for the world in his famous vampire novel. “I’m not sure the man ever actually left Ireland,” Luca joked, as he tucked Marigold’s hand at his elbow. “But the local tourists don’t seem to care much.”

The tour, and subsequent lunch in a darling little bistro by the trade office, left the mood going into the afternoon’s meeting relaxed and mellow. It was a sound strategy, Marigold thought. The bureaucrats handling the file were eager to accommodate, although the caveat of Lord Spencer’s specific request to place a regional headquarters there- to open a channel with a specific, village with an evil reputation - was odd. It wasn’t until an older aide, with a penchant for regional history, took a hard look at the paperwork that the light went on behind his eyes. He tilted the forms she had brought along with her. “Ah.” He had said, having worked out a particularly trying riddle. “Your…umbrelă. This company. They use their heraldry, I think. Omagiu? Sorry, madame. This is homage?”

Marigold let her face remain neutral, filing away the new information. It made sense. It also seemed like Spencer was playing games with her in sending her here. She was lacking information that seemed rather important. “Mm. Our founder spent some time there before coming back to the wider world. He- we - hope they will accept a gift in gratitude.” She recited Spencer’s line verbatim.

Luca, young, lean, and full of ambition, nodded along with enthusiasm. “Well, we’ll take a car out, come early tomorrow. I believe we should arrive just after noon, and we can bring this news to the village elder in person.”

-----

What Marigold did know was that Spencer had apprenticed to a doctor in the far mountains of this region. He had been gone for a large part of her early childhood, but could still recall the unease with which her father had received the shift in his personality on his return, back in the late fifties. She had overheard her father discussing it with Alexander years later, in early 1967. “He’d always been serious,” he’d said, with an air of bewilderment, “but it’s like a part of him was burned away. Take care with what you say to him.”

They had gone as a family to Spencer’s estate when news of his return reached him. Marigold had been no older than eight years old at the time- Mrs. Kettleby had called her “precocious” to her parents, and “bossy little creature” to the other staff when she thought no one else was around. When she had met her ‘Uncle’ for the first time in her own memory, she had boldly asked why he had gone off for such a long time.

Uncle Spencer had laughed- even then, it no longer reached his eyes- telling both her and a flustered Edward that he had been studying under a brilliant wise doctor -Miranda, her name was- who was creating marvelous gifts for her community, and he was inspired to learn all he could. To use all he had learned of biology and use it to make a better world.

Marigold had gone on this assignment knowing that much. On the telephone, earlier that month, Spencer had started to tell her something when requesting she set this up about the village, then decided against it. "Keep your eyes open and keep a steady nerve,” he had said instead, “and once you return, perhaps we’ll talk more about expanding your team to a proper division.”

That meant diplomatic access. A Vice President position. It meant access, mobility, and real power.

If this were a test, she’d see it through. She and Alexander had been keeping her secret for three years now, but Alexander was going oddly silent of late. Next time she spoke with her brother, she’d raise the subject of sharing her condition with Uncle Spencer. It only seemed right, with the trust Uncle Spencer was showing them.

One way, or another, she’d see this through.

-----

The drive was long, though peaceful. Fields and forests, with a smattering of small villages as they approached the mountains.

A sullen-faced man in his forties was waiting at an old petrol station by the prescribed exit to the village. “You won’t be able to take that thing in,” he announced in a hoarse voice. A sort of vindictive glee played over the man’s face: city people from the government, having no idea what they were in for. People avoided the region beyond this pass for a good reason. “You’ll need to walk a-ways, but the local merchant agreed to give you a lift in his cart, to get through the pass.”

The narrow dirt path through the trees was a short hike. Marigold could feel Luca tensing up next to her. He’d been the picture of a perfect gentleman earlier, but something about these woods clearly bothered him. When pressed, he gave a nervous laugh. “Ah, it’s silly. There are lots of mundane things that could be dangerous out here, but there really are folktales of monsters in these hills. Modern medicine shows that that was mainly rabies victims, but,” he swallowed hard. “It’s hard to shake a culture, I suppose. It’s nothing.”

Marigold walked along with him in silence for a moment. “There are a lot of old pagan stories in the area where I grew up,” she offered. “People don’t go out at night in the countryside. They bend over backward to avoid building on a sacred hill or grove, because it will spoil their luck, sometimes to their own end. They aren’t named aloud- anyone who speaks of them does it in hushed voices, calling them the ‘good gentlefolk’.” She gave a light laugh and shrugged. “It’s a shame. On a clear night, the moors are quite lovely.”

She could feel Luca relax next to her as she talked. “I suppose everything needed a good ghost story to it before science because involved.”

The path ahead of them was opening up, with a slightly wider road ahead. She paused, with a hand on Luca’s arm. Perhaps this trip would be benign, but this was Uncle Spencer’s inspiration for a path that had led to her becoming something…else. Perhaps it would be best to take a precaution.

There was one measure she could take to manage her luck, if she did it now.

Licking her lips, she stepped in quickly to press a kiss to Luca’s mouth. He froze at her forwardness, and she stepped back out of it before she could reciprocate. she smiled at him. “That’s the fun part. Sometimes they turn out to be the same thing. Have courage,” she said, and plunged on towards the road up ahead, leaving Luca gaping in her wake.

-----

Courage was not quite the right word for what Marigold was feeling, as she watched the older woman’s mouth twist into a cruel smile. Luca’s brow creased at her reaction, the trembling in her hands- his own drink had been unadulterated. A closer word would have been indignation. Anger. And a thin thread of fear binding it all together. 

They’d met In a small house overshadowed by a castle. The merchant- an impressively rotund man who went only by “the Duke”- had pointed the castle out as the holdings of the Lady Dimitrescu, who kept a winery nearby. The elder was a sour-looking woman, apparently in her early sixties. She allowed them in and served them each a glass of wine as they arranged themselves, pulling out papers from a briefcase. Spencer had entrusted her with a sealed letter for Miranda, something full of vague apology and his proposal for her village. His gift, so to speak. The woman had given her a strange look when she'd introduced herself but failed to explain any further.

That was as far as the meeting got.

Clearly, this woman- Miranda- did not appreciate Spencer’s presumption. The village existed in isolation for good reason, and she didn’t appreciate the government being sent in, jeopardizing the work like this. He knew well enough the risks.

The woman’s voice sounded strange and distant to Marigold as the toxins entered her system and attempted to do their inevitable work. Given her past reactions, the dose in the drink had been high enough to kill a normal human ten times over.

This wasn’t something that could be handled in front of the bureaucracy. “Luca,” she managed to choke out, aware of his growing alarm. “Go to sleep.”

Luca’s eyes went wide for a moment before he slumped over, a marionette with his strings cut.

Miranda’s smile froze. Marigold pressed her hands to the table. Trying to will away the numbness, the tremors creeping up her arms. She eyed the cup, and quirked a brow at Miranda. The woman’s face seemed to slough away years by the seconds, until she settled into a face in her mid-thirties. Curiouser and curiouser, for execution by proxy.

After a moment, Miranda barked out a surprised laugh. “Ah, very nice! I had no indication from your Uncle’s letters that his work had progressed so quickly!” At her glance, Miranda’s face softened slightly. “Ah, I may have been rude. There are things the boy might have seen. Your Uncle had the disposition for the kind of sacrifices this sort of research requires, but the government certainly doesn’t. That was hemlock, what you drank.” Miranda sat back, observing. “Quite a large dose, I’m afraid. I wonder what the success rate is for his little virus if he felt safe sacrificing one of you?”  

Marigold had broken into a sweat as she spoke. The virus had caused her pain before, but it was a trackable, predictable thing that she could attribute to “feminine troubles”, or lingering chronic illness.

This…was worse.

This was her nerve endings going quiet, and them firing on all cylinders as the virus in her body surged to meet this incursion.

This was her liver clenching in pain as it was forced into overdrive to filter out the hemlock in her bloodstream. Rather than slowing, her heart had suddenly kicked into an adrenaline-fuelled overdrive.

Standing up so suddenly that her chair fell back, she ran to the door towards the cool mountain air. A few steps beyond it, she fell to her knees and began to wretch. Villagers passing by saw her fall, and hurried away with alarm. It was better not to see. The Prophet of the Black God had always seen to their protection, but she was rarely kind to outsiders.

A moment of wretching and heaving passed. A cool hand touched her head, pulling her hair back. Marigold shuddered. She wheeled hard into a crouch and caught Miranda by the wrist, not bothering to temper her strength. She knew she looked half feral in that moment.

A moment passed. The two women stared at each other, unsure how to proceed. Then Miranda straightened up, seemingly unfazed by the inhumanly iron grip - and Marigold released her.

“He doesn’t know,” Marigold said softly. “It kills everyone it contacts, as far as he knows. He thinks that there was an inept attempt at infection. We told him that I caught a local illness.” Secretive, cryptic Uncle Spencer, who had sent her here. He had spent years with this woman. Had he sent her here to die?

She paused. “My father - he wanted to wait to be sure- didn’t live long enough to share the good news. The time never seemed right, after that….Luca won’t remember anything if I make him of a mind not to.”

Miranda considered her for a moment. Then, “I have been rude, haven’t I. I had other plans for you - I won’t pretend otherwise, not at this juncture. But, I think that for a blood sample, we could return to the conversation you meant to have. After all, I could use new equipment…and I’d like to know if that little virus of yours impacts the work I’m doing here.”

-----

Miranda had been keeping something in the back of the house, a little cadou of her own, as it were. The vial of blood Marigold provided disappeared with Miranda into the back while the younger woman kept to her feet, still panting and sweating in exertion.

A moment later, Miranda re-emerged with a grim expression. “It appears you are poisonous as well as venomous,” she announced, eyeing the young man still slumbering at the table. How fortunate that I did not bring Alcina along for this meeting. You would have upset her digestion rather grievously, I fear.”

“Not venom,” Marigold said quietly. Her heart rate was going down, at least. “He’s just sort of…mine, now. I had very little information about you, I understand now - it seemed prudent to maintain some form of discretion. And it protects him from information he really doesn’t need to know, of course. It’ll be easier for him once I leave the country.” She coughed at the burning in her throat that was now fading to a persistent itch. “What does that? Might I ask, even?” She made a vague gesture to encompass Miranda's features.

“This is the Mold,” Miranda said after a moment's consideration. “It holds…all who die here. All I wish is to call one back.” It was safe enough to tell her that. After all, this little one had secrets of her own to keep. She had expected a disposable poppet to send back in pieces to her absent student. Spencer must have sensed that as well, given the little prior warning of a visit in his letters. He hadn’t realized that the ‘poppet’ in his employ was another higher predator like herself.

This creature didn’t want to ‘fix the world’, or whatever that vainglorious, brilliant little man had scuttled off to do. All she wanted to do was get out of this confrontation and back to her own territory. 

Well, Spencer could mind his own house, as it were. If this girl had slipped his notice for this long, he could only blame himself. The girl would do nothing for her as a research specimen, but…the olive branch seemed to be valid. The Duke would happily take the expanded access to markets. And the post-war technologies out there seemed to have kept forward in a way she really ought to at least look into. Smugglers were a bothersome thing to manage these days.

And that little twitch of her eye when mentioning her father’s foreshortened life, through the careful wording and even more careful poise. Someone who understood loss, and the cost of carving out a safe corner in a cruel world. A possible ally who truly understood where her priorities lay was a tempting prospect.

Miranda settled herself at the table, looking for the first time at the documents laid out by herself and Luca. “I can accept a restricted version of this. He knows not to needle me on taking samples- really, the nerve. He can negotiate any samples he wants to deal in himself without sending canaries in here to die. I would prefer to avoid that sort of attention.” Miranda picked up a pen and a fresh sheet of paper. “I’ll put my requisitions down, and we’ll see how he fares. I think we can leave out our little misunderstanding, do you agree?”

Marigold blinked at her, her face closing to a mask. “To what end?”

“Viruses travel much faster than Mold when they’re successful, and can slip out into the world far more easily. It seemed to me that it would be useful to leave a counterweight in place. It’s rather hard to achieve a mutation that’s stable. Statistically, incredibly unlikely.”

Marigold nodded, slowly. “I can make the trade part work. He,” she indicated Luca, “didn’t seem to feel anyone really wanted to come here. They seem to think you have a nest of monsters in these hills.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “The things that some people believe.”

-----

Luca came to slowly, with Marigold gently shaking his shoulder. The older woman- iron-gray, in her sixties, with a hint of mischief in her eyes- watched him closely as he blinked blearily, then startled the rest of the way awake. He felt…tired? No. More than that. Like he had worked outside at his father's house all day and had gone to bed without a meal.

“I fell asleep?” He was horrified. Was something wrong with him?

The older woman, Miranda, tutted at him. "I forget, sometimes that the wine isn’t suited to outsiders- some sort of pastoral microbial issue, I was just telling your young friend. It was best to let you sleep through it. Although, it may be better for you to find room and board for the night in the next village if that’s the case. Staying here will simply upset your digestion further if you’re already sensitized.”

Luca turned sharply to Marigold, who was watching him gravely. “Everything went fine. I can fill you in on details later, but they’ll appoint a courier, that can liaise with your office, or Umbrella themselves.”

He looked back to the table, with a letter and documents packed away into two tidy piles. “We’re done?” He asked, bewildered. Marigold only smiled, a tight, uncomfortable expression, and helped him to his feet. “Yes, but we should get you into a bed to recover as soon as possible.” She glanced back at Miranda. “The rest will sort itself out in due time.”

Miranda smiled back, sincere this time. The girl was not yet so far removed from her humanity as of yet. It only seemed fair to give her a chance to grow into her own.

Poor little poppet. Despite her lineage, despite her condition, the girl had been kept almost entirely in the dark. It seemed entirely in character that those managing that line of research would deem the little thing too frail to handle the truth. They'd learn. The girl was certainly beginning to.

What a fantastically interesting world it would be when she finally brought her darling Eva back into it.

[severidescigar]

The Right Person At The Wrong Time - Introduction

Fandom: One Chicago

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Valentina Pierce (OC)

Disclaimer: This story follows most Chicago Fire storylines with my personal twist added to them. The only character belonging to me is OC Valentina Pierce.

A/N: This story will put some very beloved characters into a slightly bad light so I hope you will still enjoy it for the sake of the storyline 🤗

Next Chapter

•••

Having a rough upbringing life has given Valentina many lessons and one of them was, you can't escape your past...but she obviously didn't listen. After graduating paramedic academy and finally landing a job, she thought she finally had gotten out of the struggling state to make ends meet in which she has been trapped for most of her life...and she did for around 6 years, more or less.

After being a floater for a few months she was finally posted at Firehouse 51, she had a great partner, she was building lifetime long friendships and her relationship with her boyfriend was nothing short out of a telenovela. But oh man...she never loved anyone else the way she loved him and quite frankly he was the only man she ever fell in love with.

But disaster and chaos struck her life inevitably...growing up she and her little sister were raised by her older brother, who became overnight their legal guardian after their mother checked out on them. Long story short, her big brother got involved in some sketchy stuff in order to put food on the table and put them through school. Now many years later, after all of them successfully left that kind of life behind, they were forced to leave Chicago for their own safety.

And it was the toughest decision Valentina had to make in her entire life. That mixed with pain and irrational thinking, she decided to cut everyone off so she could move on without spiraling down into a complete wreck. Her departure has left behind a lot of unanswered questions and hurt people...and she knew that. Why? Because she never found peace in the new city that was supposed to be her new home. Chicago was home. And after "hiding" for a few years she knew she had to come back...only a whole lot of things were to change.

//

Sitting across the table from the man that first believed in her professional skills and gave her first stable job her foot was unconsciously bouncing up and down. "I'm really glad to have you back here...and I'm sure everybody else will be just as happy to see you again." "I have to thank you Chief...for basically keeping my seat warm all this time." Sharing a laugh his eyes drifted behind her, as another person was making his towards the office.

Valentina knew who it was before she ever turned around. It was the reason why she didn't go straight to the locker room and instead came into the Chief's office.

"Chief you wanted to see me?" A very familiar voice echoed through the room making Valentina get up from her seat and turn around to come face to face with him.

"Oh you have to be kidding me..." He spoke the moment he realized who was standing right in front of him.

"Severide...Valentina will be taking back her seat on Ambo. Now...I brought you in here because I need to hear from both of you that you can work together from now on...and whatever has happened in the past won't become a present issue in my firehouse." Chief Boden spoke hoping the Ambo saga will finally be over, as he has had a tough time with floaters recently.

"It's fine by me Chief." She quickly answered as she started to feel the tension already building up. "Same with me." The Lieutenant mumbled, still trying to piece together what had just happened.

"Good, you're dismissed!"

Leaving the office and walking together towards the common area, there was nothing but unpleasant silence among the two former lovers...until Valentina stepped in front of Kelly making him stop abruptly.

"I know a lot of things have happend while I've been gone and I know you're married now...but I swear I didn't come back to raise any havoc." In her mind, the sooner they got out the weird, uncomfortable conversations, the better...but she could've waited at least a bit longer.

"Not raise any havoc? Really? That doesn't sound like you..." And with that, he continued walking, leaving her just standing in the middle of the hallway.

[360iris]

do you have any wips? sorry i’m just curious, i’m in love with your writing

Luv, Hold Me Down (Sirius Black x Reader, WIP)

Warning: Mature themes? I don’t know with this one.

Word count: 2,209

A/N: You’re gonna hate my ass because I have zero intention to finish the smut on this one shdhd. Maybe when I’m less busy I’ll come back and update it (although not atm). There are typos galore too so I’m sorry in advance!

—————————————-

The infamous Bubblegum Bomb Incident of 1972. Casualties: one.

During Year Two, Sirius had resolved to get revenge on Cissy’s insufferable boyfriend ever since he tripped him in the halls to get a laugh out of his Slytherin lackeys; and what better way to do that than ruining his precious platinum locks.

It was suppose to be a quick and untraceable procedure. He’d get to personally serve Lucius his own brand of justice and the job would be completed without having to suffer detention.

If only you hadn’t been rushing through the halls that day.

Lunch had just ended, and you were haphazardly ducking and dodging through the wave of students, on your way to visit Remus. He’d been sentenced to a strict, three day period of consistent bed-rest in the infirmary after a particularly bad transformation.

You’d just wanted to bring him a slice of his favorite Hogwarts style coconut cream pie, but one wrong turn and you were suddenly bombarded with three quick pelts of homemade exploding bubblegum bullets.

Sirius had designed them to be quick and lethal with their distribution of rubbery goo so that the target's hair was sure to be ruined.

The first shot sent the small plate in your hands completely airborne. The next two hit you square in the chest, knocking you fully onto your back.

The aftermath was so extreme that it took the combined effort of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and eventually, the guiding hand of Madam Pomfrey to free you from the sticky sludge and off of the stone pavement.

By the time they’d got to the infirmary, your entire head of hair had been deemed unsalvageable by sweet Poppy, and the only thing she could figure to do was shave it clean off by hand.

You’d spent the next two days unexpectedly alongside a tired Remus, confined in the sick bay, crying your eyes out hysterically. You’d had no idea who had done this to you or why.

That was until the third day, when Poppy finally allowed visitors in, in hopes of lifting your spirits.

Your guests included:

An empathetic Lily and Mary, both girls bringing you and Remus an abundance of flowers from the greenhouses, with explicit approval from Professor Sprout; alongside the homework you’d missed and plenty of junk foods.

An overzealous Marlene who’d spent the entirety of the three days drafting up and collecting signatures for a petition to permanently ban disruptive joke shop type inventions.

And lastly, an uncharacteristically stonefaced James and solemn Sirius who both quietly observed the crucially placed scarf on your head meant to distract from your current state of baldness.

“Go on then. Tell her, man. It’s only proper.” James said abruptly with folded arms, for the first time ever foregoing his usual impeccable home-taught manners and any form of courteous greetings altogether.

You watched confused as Sirius stood some several feet away, staring directly down at his shoes. After another coarse verbal prod from James, he stepped forward, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“I- You have to understand, I couldn’t have known, Y/N! It happened so suddenly and before I knew it, it was too late!” He pleaded desperately and you weren’t quite understanding what he meant.

“I don’t follow, Sirius. What are you on about?” You asked, watching as he began wringing his hands.

He looked over to James again, seemingly pleading for aid that wouldn’t come. James looked positively severe, intent on standing by his decision to have the boy do this by himself.

“I- I was the one who blew the gum bullets.” Sirius finally whispered, looking positively terrified of your reaction. “But I didn’t intend on hitting you, I promise! It was for that git Malfoy! Remember when he tripped me in front of all of those sixth years last month? I’d been working on a way to get him back ever since! You’ve got to believe me, Y/N!”

But you’d stopped listening after the initial reveal. Your blood ran cold and it was hard to focus on anything in particular before suddenly all of your senses came rushing back in, and you were furious.

And even though James and Remus had been gauging your response, neither could have been quick enough to match the speed at which you pulled off both of your slippers and hurled them at the older boy’s face.

Successfully managing to clock him so hard, he reflexively reached up to clutch his sore, but still intact nose.

After that day, you had deemed Sirius public enemy number one, he managed to outrank even the silver-spoon fed Slytherins and that antagonizing blight, Peeves.

While there were tonics for quickening hair growth, you cursed Sirius Orion Black, every time you had to awkwardly apply a plethora of random oils to your scalp and walk around campus bald for an entire semester.

When he looked your way, you glared back mercilessly. If he dared to even address you, your responses were far from being deemed PG-13.

He’d spent the first six months wearily but consistently trying to apologize, however the damage had already been done, and it’d destroyed any semblance of friendship he’d crafted with you beforehand.

So after a while, he gave up. If you were going to hate him regardless of his actions, he figured he might as well stand up for himself during the bickering matches that transpired whenever the two of you were less than six feet apart.

Over the years, you’d remained bestfriends with Remus and James, though they could never hang out with the both of you at the same time.

For example, if you were eating breakfast with the two boys in The Great Hall and Sirius arrived late after sleeping in, you’d promptly roll your eyes and slide away to talk with Lily.

——

“That most definitely is not healthy, James.” You grimaced, tilting your head back laughing. The book in your lap, long since abandoned from the moment your bestfriends entered the common room.

“Muggle five second rule, Y/N! You were the one who told me about it to begin with!” He grinned from his spot sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

You couldn’t help bursting into a fit of giggles, desperately trying to respond. “Rem- Remus! Please! Inform him that it doesn't apply to dropping a sandwich down an entire flight of stairs!”

“Believe me I tried, but he seemed pretty determined to eat it, hair and all after catching up to it.” Remus replied softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as you began making gagging noises of disgust.

“No! James Fleamont Potter, tell me you didn’t actually eat hair!” You laughed, extending your socked foot to shove him.

“I will suffice by just saying that, there may or may not have been a stray hair or two on it when I picked it up- Oh! Sirius, how was detention?” James trailed off to greet a certain boy and your demeanor immediately soured.

Your textbook on alchemical runes suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing in the world.

“It was worth it. Mcgonagall must be getting tired of me because she had me choose a book and read for three hours. Don’t let me interrupt the fun though. Looks like you’ve finally coaxed the Ice Queen to defrost for a bit. Shame I wasn’t here to see it.” He remarks, and you didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Don’t worry, Black. I’ll never be able to truly relax knowing you’re still out running amuck. Next time you get written up, I’ll be sure to beg Mcgonagall to keep you chained outside with the rest of the wild animals.” An acute look of disgust etches across your face as you close your book, promptly shoving it into your bag.

“If you’re so desperate to see me in a collar, the person you need to be begging is right in front of you, doll.”

You could not have rolled your eyes harder at his remark. In a huff, you tug the strap of your bag around your frame and stand indignantly.

“You’re actually right for once. James? Keep your mutt on a tighter leash, before I’m forced to be the one that puts him down.” You sneer, flipping your hair over one shoulder and striding up to the girls dormitory before he can get in another word.

Remus sighed, unhappily leaning back against the couch he was currently sprawled across. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Sirius watched as your figure disappeared up the stairs before turning to the boy, a dumb smile playing on his lips.

“She doesn’t hate me nearly as much as she tries to make you believe.” Was all he offered giddily before skillfully changing the subject.

———

Much like the infamous playboy Sirius Black, you were known for how frequently you broke the hearts of anyone you hooked up with. They found that sex with you was a spiritual experience, but were usually crushed when you made it clear you weren’t interested in recurring partners.

When Gryffindor’s Quidditch team won a mid-season match against Ravenclaw, James was relentless in persuading you to come to the after party. And though you weren’t originally keen on the idea, you figured it’d be an ample opportunity to relieve some stress.

The night had gone well. You’d garnered a nice buzz from the punch James made in his dorm and had your eyes fixed on Theodore Nott who’d been snuck in by Marlene.

Sirius, who was working his way onto his third cup of punch, watched you make eyes with the Slytherin boy from across the room.

He sat silently seething as you adjusted in your spot on the couch, crossing your legs while holding that snake’s gaze. In the end, all it took was the simple curl of your index finger for Theodore to hand his drink to an unimpressed Marlene and approach you.

Sirius watched as the two of you exchanged a handful of words before you sultrily dragged the boy away by his collar.

It took a minute for him to register that the styrofoam cup in his grasp was crushed.

After grabbing a napkin, he irritatedly ran a hand through his hair and his breath was ragged.

Why did he care that you were probably seconds from fucking a random guy? He definitely wasn’t one to judge, he’d been with plenty of people over the years.

However, no matter how many times he rolled the idea around in his head, he was getting angrier by the minute.

Remus approached him to spark up a conversation, but he was already slipping past him, towards the direction he watched you disappear to earlier.

He found you in the hallway, lip-locked with Theodore who had a grip on one of your exposed thighs. Meanwhile your hands were tangled in his hair.

Sirius’ body switched into autopilot, moving at such a speed that his brain couldn’t even keep pace.

He had harshly pulled the boy off of you, slung you onto his shoulder and made his way to his dorm. Partygoers standing confused as you beat his back, yelling at him to let you go. Once he’s on the stairs away from prying eyes, he delivers a sharp slap to the exposed skin on your thigh.

“Stop screaming bloody murder, Y/L/N.” is all he says and you bite your lip at the sting.

By the time he locked his door and tossed you onto his bed you’re looking at him like he’s insane. Scurrying to get off the mattress but he quickly grabs you ankle, pulling you back to where he dropped you.

“What the fuck has gotten into you!?” You hiss, watching him run a hand through his locks.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to stop being a brat and realize you like me. Tired of watching you hop on random dicks that aren’t mine. You want to get laid tonight? Fine, fuck me then.” He growls and you’re instantly overwhelmed.

“Did a screw come loose in your head? I don’t know what the hell you’re on but I’m not fucking you all people!” You respond by grasping a pillow from his bed and chucking it at his head. He easily catches it with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since our first year, Y/N. And I’ve observed you long enough to know if you genuinely hated me or not.” He confesses and you freeze. His eyes were crystal clear and you’re at a loss of words so he continues.

He gently grasps one of your hands, bringing it up over his heart. You can very faintly feel his heart racing and your brows furrow. He was actually being genuine.

“You want fuck me so bad you’ve officially gone stupid?” You ask but he sees the tiniest smirk on your lips. And for whatever reason, you actually let him move in to kiss you.

He jumps a bit when you bite his bottom lip and you giggle before he’s pressing you back onto the bed.

It’s a fight for dominance, neither of you wanting to be the one that relents.