#i am so sorry anon i know this is not what you intended behind this message lol

[doctorweebmd]

hi this isn't a question i just desperately need to tell you how much zero sum game ruined me and put me back together again. lurking mental illness and suicidality under shit circumstances, physical disability, mental and physical scars, constantly fighting off the ptsd and having to learn how to cope in ways that don't hurt other people so you can hang onto the person that makes it all worth it. it's everything i've gone through, right down to soul destroying and healing intimacy, at first to feel pain and then to attempt feeling truly good for the first time. zero sum is undoubtedly going to be one of those artworks i can never shake off my psyche in the best way, like an abstract background hug for my heart. thank you so much for taking so many scary themes to tackle and packaging them so beautifully, i really needed that lately.

sincerely, a previous battle of the bands fan who is now absorbing your entire oeuvre into their personality.

first i want to thank you profusely for sending me this. thank you for sharing your own experience, and your own pain. i know thats not easy and i'm some random person but honestly reading this makes me feel not so alone in the world. of course, thank you for reading, but also for relaying that you felt seen by it. i always feel so silly because its a my hero academia fanfiction but, with all sincerity, words like yours are what make writing it worth it.

zero-sum is sincerely my favorite thing i've ever written and probably always will be. not because i think the plot is awesome or the physics stuff was cool (EVEN THOUGH I STILL THINK THOSE THINGS ARE TRUE) but because its the first time i was able to write about my own personal experiences with mental illness (heavily projected onto Katsuki and Izuku, lmao) in over ten years.

Okay fair warning i am going to overshare under the cut so please feel free to stop reading also I love you and cherish you and appreciate you thank you so so so much for sending this

i'm sharing this because, at some point, i needed to read this. maybe someone will stumble on to it and realize something. maybe not. maybe its just another way for me to continue to process what happened. i think i'll always be processing it. mental illness is a bitch

when things got really bad for me (the first time around) i stopped writing completely. at that time, i truly, from the bottom of my heart, believed that my disorder was the only thing that made my writing interesting. that if i was to recover, that means i could no longer do the only thing i was good for. unironically, writing was actually a major barrier to my recovery for some time.

writing, the thing i loved most in the world, started heavily triggering me.

so i stopped.

the problem was, i heavily romanticized what i was going through in my writing. i made the suffering 'beautiful.' by thinking it was beautiful, i was trapping myself in a loop of self-destruction.

they say, 'write what you know.' but all i knew was misery. so misery was what i wrote.

romanticizing your pain is something i think we all do. sometimes you have to. its a survival mechanism. if the pain is 'beautiful,' then its 'tolerable' to go through.

what no one really tells you about mental illness is that its really, really fucking lonely.

what no one tells you about recovery is, its even lonelier. its the most isolating thing in the world. everything you relied on, everything you thought to be true, the way you interact with the world completely changes.

things are always going to be different. you can't go back to who you were before.

what i did do, when i went into recovery, was read the very few published books about people with (disorder) who recovered. over and over and over again. i needed something to latch on to. anything. i needed to believe it was possible. i needed to believe people like me survived. that they could find happiness. that they could find love. that there is space in this world for people as broken as me.

i dont know. zero-sum, to me, was a love letter to that 19 year old kid that hit her (first) rock bottom. i pretended she didn't exist because it hurt too much to think about her. but what she needed to know, then, that recovering, no matter how difficult, was worth it. that life can and WILL get better. that she will one day wake up every morning and think 'fuck. i'm so glad i'm alive.' that even people like her can find happiness.

that one day, many years later, embarrassed, she'll show her scars to a person she just started dating. that he'll sheepishly show her his. that they'll exchange police reports like love letters. she'll learn that there are people out there that understand her. have felt her same pain. have lived through the same hell. she'll learn that survival is sometimes based on hope, and sometimes based on spite.

but is, despite it all, always worth it.

she'll learn that her suffering does not preclude her from love and connection and happiness.

that one day, she won't feel so alone.

and that one day, she'll be able to sit down at her computer and write about it. maybe it will be in the form of my hero academia fanfiction lmao but that doesn't make it any less real.

maybe it will reach someone. maybe it won't.

but one day, she'll be able to do the thing she loved more than anything in the world again, because nothing is ever truly lost.

there is a future worth fighting for.

[starstruckmoony]

Hi, could I request a enemies to lovers with Enzo? Love your writing :))

tysm for the request anon!! i am so so sorry for taking ages to post this but i got veryyyyyy carried away and it may or may not be too long BUT i hope you enjoy it and that it's similar enough to what you imagined <3

king of my heart.

masterlist , requests

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x reader

summary - you and lorenzo are both sore, jealous losers with egos the size of jupiter, so you decide that you hate one another and that academic competing is the way to go. you keep that up for six full years, until something rather unfortunate happens and destroys your entire game plan.

trope/tags - enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, angst, fluff

word count - 12.8k

warnings - language, smoking

if there was one thing every single person who ever crossed your path knew about you, even if you were barely acquainted, was that you had sort of been raised without the ability to accept that you cannot always come out on top. it was simply incomprehensible. you'd been told that you were a gifted kid from the moment you became aware of your pathetic little existence. it did wonders to your ego. your smarts and determination amused your tutors, petrified them even. and the better you got, the more motivation it sparked in you.

you intended to keep things going your way when your acceptance letter for hogwarts arrived in the mail. you weren't worried, not even a little bit, and neither were your parents. being the best of the best was a running thing in your family.

unsurprisingly, it couldn't have started off better. your professors loved you. other kids envied you. each essay and exam result you'd ever recieved was the textbook definition of perfect. your grades were nicer that aphrodite's reflection in the mirror, as hermione had told you once. it was a lot coming from her. she was also amongst the few of the smartest, most hardworking students in your year, but you never felt threatened by her, or anybody else for that matter. there was, weirdly, no jealousy. on her part, at least, considering you so very effortlessly secured your spot as top of the class and never let anybody take it. she'd always be happy for you like the good friend she was, proudly patting you on the back, yet you couldn't help but think if she ever felt a little angry behind that supportive smile of hers.

and funny enough, you were finally able to stop pretending to know what it was like one fine wednesday before the christmas holidays. you had come into class more confident than ever that morning, smugly waiting for your potions essay results. you were hoping for a hundred, but a ninety nine, maybe even a ninety eight, didn't seem so bad either. that would have been, if lorenzo berkshire hadn't got his essay back with a score better than yours. he, much like yourself, was just another sore loser who craved academic validation like a drug, silently fuming whenever somebody surpassed him. he had dealt it with for months, watching you ace everything from charms to transfiguration, and always being second to you. the jealousy consumed his entire being, and he was kind of going mental, so you one could only imagine how ecstatic he was when he saw your face twist with dread after snape praised him in front of everybody. he wouldn't have hidden that mocking grin on his face if you held a knife to his throat and it made you want to choke him to death, for lack of better term.

"l/n." he sang as he successfully caught you in the corridor right after the said lesson. twat. you ignored him and increased the speed of your steps, biting the inside of your cheek, so hard that it began to sting. you didn't instantaneously realise how desperate he was to get your attention, but it became a lot clearer when he stood in front of you, entirely blocking your path. your little attempts to confuse him and avoid the situation were useless. it was kind of pathetic.

"what do you want?" simply shoving him to the ground and acting like it never happened would have done the job, but god forbid you swallowed your pride for once. 

"c'mon, don't be so pissy, i'm just trying to make conversation." you saw right through him, anyone would. him? wanting to make conversation with you? after death-glaring you every lesson for three months straight? and then bursting your bubble and being so smug about it? you almost scoffed, "you're in my way."

"oh, my apologies." he moved to the side and bowed dramatically, waiting for you to leave. you rolled your eyes, and took a single step forward, just to have him come right back to his original spot.

"move." you tried to shove him and even attempted to run for it, but he was faster than you. your nostrils flared, "you know that today was just dumb luck, right?" you crossed your arms, thinking you'd get under his skin, but there was no sign of change on his face. on the contrary, he was more accomplished than ever. you were fuming.

"i wouldn't call it that." he tilted his head to the side, observing your face.

"alright then," you copied his movements, "plagiarism?" his smile fell a little. it made you a lot happier than it should have. you expected victory from that senseless squabble, but lorenzo wasn't the type of person who backed down so easily. that was something you should have known.

"you're projecting." he shrugged, blankly staring at you.

"projecting?" you almost stuttered.

"projecting. pick up a dictionary, yeah?" he gave your head a tiny pat, and left you standing in the hallway, dumbfounded, angry, and a little humiliated.

that moment alone set off a feud that changed the trajectory of your miserable lives forever. each time he did better than you, whether it was on an essay, an exam, flying lessons even, your urge to wipe his existence of the face of the earth got stronger. the feelings were mutual on his part. you went back and forth like that for a while, trying not to be that obvious about it, but one could only hide their true feelings for so long.

it started off with hushed insults, which got strategically thrown around every time you'd cross each other's path. having other people notice your diminishing confidence was proper nightmare fuel, so you kept it as subtle as possible. then it turned into shoving and pushing, which was enough to set off some alarm bells in the heads of your friends. neville had told you that it wasn't worth it, and draco, of all fucking people, had told lorenzo to tone it down, but you refused to listen. you offered a few empty promises, saying that you'll sort it out sooner or later (sort out as in make sure you never let lorenzo get a score higher than yours again, but that was not going to happen).

your sooner or later turned into a few godawfully long years. saying you hated him may have seemed like an overstatement, but there was no other way to describe that burning feeling of i want to fucking kill you that entirely took over you whenever you laid your eyes on him. it kept getting worse and worse, without you realising just how bad it had become. your little competitions had completely lost their significance. it didn't matter who was first anymore. it could be ron or pansy, and you wouldn't bat an eye. all you cared about was surpassing each other, even if you were among the average with your scores.

that being said, it became an open secret of sort. as stupid as you made your classmates out to be, they were not, and they quickly put the missing puzzle pieces together. one of them spread a rumour that you tried to kill lorenzo, or vice versa, you couldn't really remember. and frankly, you couldn't blame them. you had given them more than enough reasons to think that you hated his guts. the most ridiculous instance had to have been the one during potions class when snape assigned you to work together. you could have placed a bet of two million galleons that he did it on purpose. it was like he wanted you to fail.

lorenzo had managed to insult you before he even took a seat at your table, calling you too stupid to work with in front of the entire class. you told him that he was a daft idiot when he unwillingly slumped down into the empty seat next to you, which had only set him off more. you accepted your fates almost immediately, knowing that whatever task snape assigned to you wouldn't be done, even if it cost you your grades.

just like you predicted, you did everything but what you were supposed to; spilled every sort of liquid there was all over each other's things, broke a few glasses, set two notebooks on fire, and burnt a hole in the table. you had stuck him to his chair, too, and lost a few house points as a result.

***

a sane person would have reached a certain point and stopped, pushing all of those stupid grudges aside. forgive and forget, that whole talk. hopelessly, your friends thought you would have got over it as you were growing older and that you would have chosen basic human decency over some hurt feelings and an insignificant competition no one gave a shit about. but no. you were not sane. you were ruthless, and you continued trying to make each other miserable like your lives depended on it. you hated lorenzo berkshire, and he hated you just as much. you were too naive and caught up in it all to realise that it'll come right back for you later.

it was like some sick obsession. from obvious sabotaging during classes whenever you got assigned to work together (followed by unsatisfactory results you blamed the other for) to throwing insults at each other in the corridors where everybody was set to hear you, you had checked every single one off.

you called him a useless arsehole on a daily basis. he called you an insufferable bitch every time he saw you. you had cursed out each other during lessons and done even worse things when nobody was looking. and if anyone did see you and try to get involved and call you names, it was bad news for them. you were each other's enemies to insult and demean and degrade and ruthlessly bully, nobody else's. only you were allowed to call him a cockroach, and only he was allowed to call you a snake. your relationship with lorenzo was nothing you could explain to somebody with a fully functioning brain, even if you tried.

one night in your fifth year, you had successfully snuck out in search of some sort encyclopaedia to help you out with your DADA assignment. none of the books which you were allowed to use did good enough of a job at making it easier, so you were hoping that the restricted section would have something better to offer - which it did. you couldn't recall the last time your trip to the library was that short.

to make things even better, you successfully avoided bumping into an annoying brunette who made your life oh so entertaining (unbearable). lorenzo wasn't anywhere to be seen. you smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of freedom at last. you were praying that the prick got bored of looming around the corridors all alone like a loser, waiting to terrorise you.

you began humming a tune you heard dean play on his old gramophone (one that got confiscated), and skipped around the corner to make your way to the grand staircase. mistake number one. you tripped over something, someone, but managed to stay on your feet as opposed to falling face-first onto the ground. you didn't even have to look back to know who it was.

"my, my, out rebelling again?" lorenzo leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking in satisfaction when he noticed how you were grimacing. he stepped on one of the books you dropped, refusing to move when you tried to snatch it back.

"do you mind?" you spat, aggressively pulling it from under his foot. you straightened out your clothes and dusted yourself off before tucking the literature you had picked up under your arm.

"stealing?" he raised an eyebrow.

"borrowing." you corrected.

"without permission?" he tilted his head to the side in faux amusement, "i wonder what would happen if i alerted a professor about this."

"and you'd tell them what?" you scoffed, barely able to hold your laughter in, "that you saw me stealing while you were sneaking out to go for a casual wank?" what a fucking idiot. you rolled your eyes, turning away from him with the intention to walk away from the scene. you were not in the mood for his bullshit.

"yeah, yeah, run away like you always do." he uttered in disappointment, yawning. he knew exactly which buttons to push, and it wasn't surprising. you were familiar with each other's habits and emotions more than you'd like to admit. you stopped in your tracks. sighing, you set the books down onto the stone tiles, and spun around to face him once again.

"aguamenti." you cast the spell with an evil smile, and in a matter of seconds, a wave of water was shot straight in lorenzo's direction, leaving him soaking wet. he gasped out in shock; his clothes clung to his body. the water was unbearably cold, it was so fucking freezing, he could barely move. the commotion was noisy enough to alert filch and his beloved ms. norris, but those were the last of your worries. your felt rather fulfilled, that was what mattered.

"you asked for it." you shrugged, but did not turn your back on him just yet. that would have been the easiest way for him to attack, so you mistakenly waited, thinking he would strike for you. he dug his wand out of his pocket, and muttered a spell, "vermiculus."

you whipped your head in the direction in which he pointed his hand, realising what happened a second too late. he had turned your precious books into worms. you yelped in surprise and stepped away from the disgusting mess on the ground, your back bumping into his chest. you turned to face him and gave him a harsh push, backing him up into the wall and shoving your wand into his face.

"uncast it." you demanded. he laughed. how stupid did you have to be to even think that he'd listen to you, "no."

"berkshire." your words came out louder than expected. you wouldn't have been shocked if you saw a teacher coming around the corner to reprimand the both of you for looming around so late, but you didn't care.

"undo the damn spell." you repeated, just about ready to strangle him if you deemed it necessary.

"no." he pushed you away and took a hold of his own wand. he tried to disarm you, but failed miserabley. two could play at that game, then "stupif-"

"what's going on here?" filch's scratchy voice stopped you mid-spell. your head snapped towards him, and you instinctively stuck your wand inside of your clothes as if he hadn't already seen it. being too preoccupied by trying to come up with an explanation that you hadn't previously used to get yourself out of trouble, you had forgotten about the slimy creatures crawling on the floor. a worm wiggled towards you, too close for comfort, and you scrambled to get away, clumsily bumping into lorenzo once again. he gave you a somewhat gentle shove to get you away, and you kicked him in response, right in the shin.

"she tried to drown me." he explained with an irritated groan, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

"he destroyed school property." you added dramatically, wishing to kick him one more time. filch's eyes trailed over to the filth beside your feet, and he made a face of disgust before instructing you both to follow him to dumbledore's office.

the whole ordeal ended with the books being safely returned to their spot on the shelves of the restricted section, a half-assed DADA assignment and the two of you getting put on bathroom cleaning duty for seven days straight (no magic allowed). it was probably the biggest mistake of dumbledore's life.

the bathrooms were not cleaned properly once. in fact, they'd only end up in conditions which were about ten times worse than their default ones. lorenzo was too busy spilling bucketfuls of water, dirty or clean, all over you to care whether he scrubbed the junk off every single sink there was (payback for the stunt you pulled on him in the corridor), and you were too busy hitting him with funny smelling toilet brushes (made sure you got all that rubbish into his hair, too) to polish the tiles and mirrors to perfection like you were told to do. it was disgusting and sickeningly entertaining at once. dumbledore considered punishing you with some other method, but gave up seeing what the boys' toilets looked like after night four. not even detention was able to come between the two of you. limits and common sense weren't either.

***

in your sixth year, the unimaginable happened. there wasn't a single soul who saw it coming, not even yourselves. maybe it was magic. maybe it was a sign from the universe. maybe some higher power did everybody justice. whatever it was, it sent your professors into a spiral. their shitty damage control was finally paying off, as cruel as it turned out to be.

classes had become increasingly more difficult than they were in previous years. to follow, to manage, to keep track of, and everything in between. mcgonagall had pulled you outside twice, asking you what was wrong after she had noticed that you were falling behind. many of your peers were, actually, but nobody would have ever expected it from you. the results you'd achieve weren't always as perfect as they were in your first year, though you had never struggled to get past eighty points until then. it was singlehandedly the worst thing that could have ever happened to you. priorities were hard to sort out, so there was a noticeable decline in your performance. you were absolutely miserable, and it did not get better, only worse. so bad that you had forgotten that you had a certain slytherin to compete with.

it was the day before halloween night, lessons had come to an end. your friends scattered around different places – some to the great hall, some to hogsmeade, some headed straight to bed, all intending to clear their minds after a stressful week of difficult assignments and dreadfully challenging essays. nearly every student left the transfiguration classroom with a relieved smile, happy that even their low scores ensured them a pass. hermione got a ridiculous amount of praise for her outstanding results, and even an encouraging pat on the back from mcgonagall.

so, a wonderful end of october for everybody but yourself. your expectations weren't high when you handed your toughest essay in. you thought you'd get sixty points at best. not hoping for much, yet still trying to ignore the worst possible outcome - one that was bound to get you someday like proper karma. but that wouldn't actually happen, would it? there was no way. it was impossible. you felt like a bloody idiot.

you failed. you fucking failed. for the first time in your life. and it was much more humiliating than you had imagined. you were so upset with yourself that you hadn't even bothered to pester lorenzo about his results, and strangely, he hadn't approached you either. no glances, no death glares, no hushed insults. not during the lesson, not after.

you left the transfiguration classroom trying your hardest not to cry, ignoring all of your friends and wishing to get out of the castle as soon as possible. you needed to be alone. you weren't looking for anybody's comfort, validation or their empty words of sympathy that would lose their meaning the moment you fixed the mess you were in. so you went to the black lake; where very little people preferred spending time, where you could be at peace with your own thoughts, and where you could catch a much needed break, even if it was only for a little while.

you slumped down onto the grass with a thump, bringing your knees up to your chest and letting your tears fall. you failed. for merlin's sake, you failed. it was like everything you had ever known was suddenly gone. you weren't even worried about what your parents or professors would say. truthfully, you couldn't give less of a damn. you were so disappointed that you had blocked out everything and everyone else, or whatever stupid opinion and solutions they might have had to offer. everyone, except for lorenzo and that dumb game you two were, for an even dumber reason, still playing. he must have been oh so happy to hear about your failure. he'd never let you live it down, you knew it.

"l/n?" speak of the fucking devil. he always had fantastic timing.

"get out of my sight before i throw you into the lake." you spat, wiping your tear-stained face with your sleeve, not looking at him.

"shiver me timbers." he sang, not feeling threatened at all.

"berkshire." you warned, turning your head towards him and meeting his gaze. you shouldn't have moved. worry flashed through his face for a brief moment when he caught a glimpse your puffy eyes, and he pressed his lips together, guilty. could he actually bring himself to pester you while you were in such a terrible condition? no, he couldn't, regardless of the resentment he felt towards you.

he cleared his throat and took a step closer. you sighed, staring back at the landscape spread out in front of you without uttering a word, "what happened?" he questioned hesitantly.

"nothing that concerns you." you attempted to shut him down. he raised both of his eyebrows, a little amused, "someone upset my favourite rival," he scoffed, "of course it concerns me."

you rolled your eyes, "just leave, will you?" but did you really want him to? your voice shook as you spoke. you despised the part of you that was wishing for him to stay. you wanted to be alone more than anything, but you knew you'd break down again if he listened to your plea and left you there. you'd take his overused insults over failure any day.

"not until you tell me what happened." your jaw clenched, and you muttered a quiet curse, knowing that he most likely wouldn't let up. as if that one would miss out on an opportunity to annoy you. he settled down in the grass, right next to you, waiting.

you sat in silence for what felt like forever. he didn't push you to speak again, and you were pretty reluctant to say a single thing. not even calling him names seemed tempting. you sighed for the nth time, starting to tear up again, "i got my essay back with thirty points." you sniffled, silently preparing yourself to get made fun of.

"fuck," you heard him mumble, and he scratched his head shortly before speaking, "if it makes you feel better, i got twenty eight." getting on your nerves was always in his best interest. although, having to see you so seriously upset was not on his bucket list, not anymore. you stared at him in shock, frowning, "what?"

he nodded. the look on his face was so sullen that you were starting to believe him, "are you not taking the piss?"

he snorted, "i wish i was," he avoided your gaze, "i, uh," he pursed his lips in thought, letting out a breath of frustration, "i was convinced i'd do well even if i started last minute... without research, but uh, guess i was wrong." you hummed, doubtful.

"why are you telling me all this?" you shook your head and trailed your eyes back to the lake, finding it rather difficult to believe that he was being so... nice. it was your first normal conversation and you had no clue what to make of it.

"who else am i supposed to tell it to?" he responded, annoyed. you bit the inside of your cheek, just as irritated, picking up a pebble. you examined it shortly before throwing it into the water.

lorenzo watched you curiously, having very little to say, which was terribly weird in itself. lorenzo berkshire not having a single unnecessary, offending comment to offer? your failures had truly taken a toll on you, completely.

"i can't believe we both fell off." you said in wonder, throwing another rock below the surface.

"right," he agreed, without an urge to backtalk, "fucking hell, i've no reason to hate you now." he blurted out, horrified by his own words.

"fantastic, now i suck at that too." you let out a dry, emotionless chuckle. you weren't crying anymore, just silently fuming at lorenzo for being the one to stop it without even properly trying.

"you suck at everything." he corrected.

"i take after you." you retorted nonchalantly.

"dumbass." he bit back a smile.

"dickhead." you were struggling just as hard. holding in your laughter was never more challenging, but you were determined not to break character.

you found yourselves in an eerily comfortable silence. by the looks of it, things would be alright. knowing that he messed up too somehow put you at ease. not even because you were happy to him fail, but more at the thought that it just happened to be at the same time as you. you found a certain dose of comfort in it. it was written in the stars, as it seemed.

"get lost now." you broke the bubble you found yourselves in. it was about time you got back on track. there was no way you'd get all friendly and gushy with him, even after whatever that was.

"alright, alright." he stood up, groaning as he did so. he dusted off the pieces of grass that got stuck to his trousers.

he stared back at the lake shortly, waiting to see if you'd say anything else he could offer a witty response to. he was a bit sad when you didn't, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, sighing, "well, i shall see you-"

"never." you finished that for him.

"perfect." he added, turning on his heel and heading towards the castle. you allowed yourself to glimpse at him one last time, simply not being able to let him have the last word.

"you've got some on your arse." you were talking about the remainder of the grass that was stuck to his clothing. he stopped to clean it up, and then flipped you off wordlessly.

you thought that was the last of your civilised interactions. there was no reason for you to bore your mind with it. you happened to fall behind at the same time and it gave you a decent bonding moment, but it was nothing more than that. just two people who claimed they didn't like one another very much talking properly for once. nothing, it was nothing. simple as that. so you weren't able to pinpoint why you kept looking back on it nearly every day, or why you felt so guilty for calling him stupid and useless, or why making fun of him for getting a lower score than you wasn't rewarding anymore, or why competing so fiercly was no longer satisfactory. and why he too, happened to feel just the same. maybe you had grown out of it.

you blamed it on the stress. you did have lots of different things occupying your mind anyway - such as your major arithmancy exam that you decided to pull an all nighter for.

for the first time in a while, you stayed inside the library past closing hours. madam pince wasn't too happy about it, but she liked you enough to let you crash there and warned filch not to throw you outside if he happened to notice you during his nightly patrol. the woman had some interesting tactics up her sleeve, none of which you ever questioned.

you swore, probably for the tenth time in the past two minutes, crumpling up yet another piece of parchment. you had to start over a ridiculous amount of times. the pile of rubbish on the floor was growing larger by the second. ripped up paper, bottles of ink, broken feathers, it was definitely a sight. there was no way you were getting through all of that on your own. and oh how that angered you. you rarely ever needed assistance with anything, but this was just a little bit above your level. that enraged you even more. a helping hand was starting to sound promising.

"you're still here?" you didn't even flinch, knowing all too well who that voice belonged to. did god or the devil just answer your prayers? you never got past your little habits of leaving the dormitories to do whatever there was to be done around the castle almost every night, so there he went, running into you again. lorenzo peeked out from behind the bookshelves in front of you, smiling like a little kid who was just about to do something egregiously silly. you couldn't not grin back, despite being angry.

"you're still here?" you repeated his question, crossing your arms.

"i asked first." he moved towards your desk, pulling out an empty chair and settling there next to you without even asking if you wanted him there. weird, that one.

"alright, and?" you teased further. he bumped your shoulder with his own. he wanted something. punching him suddenly sounded like a fine option. he looked over your arm to examine your notes.

"arithmancy?" he glared at you, kind of bemused. it was another subject he was that awfully good at, unlike you. you weren't terrible, but not exactly the best either. an infuriating thing.

"my favourite." you responded sarcastically, throwing your quill across the table. he hummed, sitting back in his chair, but not taking his eyes off of you. he definitely wanted something.

"what?" you could sense it already. he was gonna mock you again.

"do you need help with that, perhaps?" or maybe not. you looked at him, skeptical.

"from you?" you raised an eyebrow.

"well, i mean, yeah." he shifted in his spot, as if he was anxious. you did a double take, and then burst out laughing, wiping away a non-existent tear. he was just too damn funny. him helping you? that was a good one. you carried on with that little performance of yours for the next minute until it hit you that he wasn't joking.

"are you serious?" you asked, just to confirm. there was absolutely no chance.

"look, i can leave-" he stood up, "no," you grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him back down. he yelped, startled, "what's your deal?" you weren't letting him get away with that so easily.

"what do you mean?" he was geniuenly confused.

"don't play fucking dumb," you jabbed a finger into his chest, "why are you being so kind to me all of a sudden?"

he laughed uncomfortably, scratching the nape of his neck, "well, i thought, you know, since it seems like we're no longer on about hating each other, that-"

"oh." you interrupted him, chuckling in disbelief. you shook your head, rubbing your temples in frustration and then letting your arms fall to your sides, "look, berkshire, just because i'm not trying to kill you anymore doesn't mean i want to be friends."

"what!? for fuck's sake, you're impossible." he stood up once more, this time darting out of your reach.

"here we go again." you rolled your eyes. you just couldn't interact without quarreling, could you? he paced around inbetween the bookshelves before returning to your table, "you're not exactly giving me any reasons to be nice right now."

"i never asked of you to be nice." you argued.

"you could appreciate me trying." he retorted. you had no idea what on earth he was trying to achieve. you could only think of so many explanations, "why? so that you could gain my trust and then stab me in the back when it's convenient for you?"

"that's what this is about?" he muttered something under his breath, "i thought we were past that rubbish."

you wanted to laugh hysterically, "okay, we may have pushed the resentment aside, but you can't exactly expect me to trust you."

he understood that, unbeknownst to you, "i never said that you needed to trust me," he sighed, leaning over the table, "listen, i offered to help you because i can see you're struggling. i'm not here to sabotage you if that's what you're worried about. i'd be wasting my time." he straightened his posture, standing there with his arms crossed.

"because i'm already terrible enough and don't need anyone's interference to properly fuck up, right?" you were prepared to tell him to bugger off if he refused to give you the answer you were looking for, furious at him and yourself.

he paused, hesitant. you were so fucking stubborn, and he loved you for it, "correct." alright then.

you picked up your quill, "sit down."

you got your exam back with a shocking score of eighty-nine, surpassing even hermione. not lorenzo, but you were second, and that was enough to have your ego flying right back through the roof.

i told you you could do it, he said, but not without me, he had to point out. you had to give him that. how could you not? he casually decided to save your life without you even asking for it. if it weren't for him, you most likely would have majorly fucked up on that exam. that's not saying that it wasn't difficult. he had no patience and you had even less, but you had somehow survived that night in the library without biting each other's heads off or getting into any additional fights. he even followed you back to your dorm, an offer he didn't allow you to refuse and one that you were too exhausted to complain about.

in the few weeks that followed, you decided that it was for the best that you block out whatever happened between you that night. christmas holidays were approaching, and you couldn't let that ruin your mood. lorenzo told you that mattheo said that it was a shift in the matrix. you had no idea what that meant, it sounded horrifyingly muggle, but you agreed for the sake of agreeing. a shift in the matrix, bloody nonsense. a coincidence, you called it. an accident, even. an accident that helped you out tremendously and made you reconsider lorenzo on nights when you couldn't sleep, but still an accident. 

who were you kidding? something had definitely changed. other students started noticing it too.

you had gradually become somewhat friendly rivals who'd rub their own success into each other's faces for the laughs till they got threatened with a jinx or tickled to death. some occasional name calling too, just not as intense. but you weren't friends. nothing near it. you had done a pretty good job at convincing yourself you never would be. treating him a little better than usual was the farthest you'd go trying to mend all those years of jealousy and grudges. that was what you started living by, pushing away that strange tingling sensation that would coarse through you every time his hands happened to brush against yours when you walked side by side.

it is exactly why you almost spilled acidic liquid all over the table and burnt a hole in it again when he sat next to you during potions one fine afternoon.

snape was visibly mortified by the sight, partially because of that incident from two years prior (when you almost set the entire classroom on fire), and partially because he couldn't believe that mcgonagall was actually onto something when she purposefully failed you both. it would go down in history as one of the most ridiculous moments of his career. he sent a warning glare your way before beginning the lesson.

"excuse you?" you whispered once professor snape finally turned his back to the class, raising both of your eyebrows in question. was lorenzo asking to get violated?

"harry took my seat." he pointed towards the table where he usually sat. and shockingly enough, there was harry, sitting next to draco, for whatever sick and twisted reason. you gaped at them, then at lorenzo. not looking into that deeper was maybe for the better.

okay then. you didn't respond, trying to get into taking some notes like you were previously instructed. that would have been easy (it was for the first quarter of the lesson), if lorenzo's presence wasn't keeping you so alert, stopping you from focusing on what you deemed more important, "merlin, can you breathe a little quieter?" you snapped.

he purposely inhaled louder than he normally would, grinning proudly when your eyes rolled back into your brain. you kicked him under the table. he yelped, but oddly, covered it up with a cough. you glared at him, doubtful. that was not the reaction you were expecting to get.

you resumed trying to copy the crucial bits from the chapter snape assigned you all to analyse, very poorly. it was kind of impossible. you weren't used to having lorenzo sit so close to you for such an extended amount of time. ignoring him was unimaginably hard. your notes had never looked worse. words missing, constant mistakes, sensless scribbles. you reached for a new pot of ink after seeing that you had run out, and then felt his finger poke at your side.

you flinched, catching a glimpse of your professor who's head was still buried in the pile of assignments he needed to grade. he hadn't noticed you. good. but then lorenzo did it again, right where you were most ticklish, because he knew. you swatted his hand away, not missing the way he smiled to himself. little shit.

you reached to poke him too, and when you tried to pull away, he took a hold of your wrist, not letting go. he had a lot of good defense tactics up his sleeve. you didn't try to yank your arm out of his grip instantly, which was the perfect opportunity for him to tickle at your side with his free hand. this time, you held back a startled giggle, kicking him under the table one more time. he snorted, resuming his little game.

you were both sweating trying not to make too much noise, but neither of you was letting up, not letting the other have the satisfaction of winning. he eventually moved his chair closer to yours with the excuse to tickle you more effectively. your legs were touching under the table, but only because it was easier for you to kick him that way. it went on for at least fifteen minutes, until snape finally lifted his head, his eyes on the class. you separated, thinking you were being slick about it, when it was the least fitting explanation for what had been going on. the two of you had your lips pressed together, trying not to laugh. your professor could only sigh in response. at least you didn't set anything ablaze.

hermione tucked her arm under yours in the hallway when your lesson ended, grinning mischevously, "would you like to tell me what happened just now?" 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, "huh? i don't know what you're on about." you played dumb, despite knowing exactly what she was getting at. and you had no idea why. it's not like you had anything to hide.

"i think you do." she pushed. there was not a chance for you to get out of that conversation.

"really? i truly don't." you still tried, though. acting foolish was your only escape route.

"y/n." she dragged out, laughing and pulling you along with her. potions were your final lesson of the day, so you were already able to picture her desperate attempts to pull some information out of you all the way until bedtime.

"what? we were just fighting." you finally gave in. you knew you would have to eventually, but you loved your free time a little too much to let her annoying interrogation tactics drag on for so long.

"so you do know what i'm on about." she teased, scarily invested.

"what else could you possibly be on about?" you snapped, pushing away that uncomfortable feeling that settled in your chest. you had no reason not to tell her anything, so you couldn't pinpoint why you were feeling so guilty all of a sudden.

"the way you two sat closer together than every couple in our year?" she exclaimed, astonished by how shamelessly you were avoiding the subject.

you gasped, feeling a bit offended, or maybe called out. you couldn't tell which one it was, "that is not what happened." that was an overexaggaration if you ever heard one. was she out of her bloody mind? sometimes you thought that she enjoyed setting you off as much as lorenzo did.

you stepped through the portrait hole with the rest of your housemates, pushing through the crowd to get your dormitories faster. you wanted a nice shower, some peace and quiet for reading, and then decent sleep. it was that simple. you survived the walk through the common room without anyone asking additional invasive questions, immediately heading for the toilet once you arrived to your dorm.

you really needed that shower. it made you feel whole again. you stepped out after putting some comfortable clothes on, skipping over to your bed and then cursing out loud when you realised what was on it. amongst your own, there was lorenzo's fucking book. you had accidentally taken it when you scrambled to collect your things once class ended.

you could have just given it to him tomorrow, or not given it back at all. like he'd know who took it. it was incredibly tempting, but it also felt unnecessarily mean. what if he needed it to study that night? you brushed it off, not like it was your problem anyway. you sat down onto the mattress, picking up a novel from your nightstand and throwing the other books straight to the carpet so you could comfortably settle on your bed. you then put it back. you didn't feel like reading anymore. you laid there, thinking. peace was never an option in your world.

you groaned, snatching his book up from the floor and venturing back into the common room. you hadn't bothered to explain yourself to anybody, and you continued trotting over to the dungeons with a neutral expression on your face (neutral as in i am very much internally raging and if anybody tries to talk to me i might use the imperius curse on them). very useless it was, that relaxing shower of yours.

none of the slytherins lounging on the sofa questioned you, your appearance was pretty telling. good thing you ran into mattheo on the way there. getting in wouldn't have been so easy otherwise. you disappeared in the direction of their dormitories, stopping right in front of lorenzo's door. you swallowed harshly, begenning to get nervous. something was wrong with you.

you hesitated before knocking, tapping your foot against the ground furiously as you waited. "one second!" lorenzo yelled from the other side. it sounded like something had fallen over. the noise was followed by a few curse words and some shuffling before the door opened.

much to your dismay, you were met with a bare chested lorenzo, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers which loosely hung around his hips. his hair was wet, and his cheeks were a tinted with a light shade of pink. he had stepped out of the shower merely three minutes before you showed up. you inhaled sharply, swallowing the sound of surprise that almost escaped you and feeling your face heat up. his eyes went wide, given that he was taken aback much like yourself. you were the last person he was expecting to find on the other side of the door.

"hi." he greeted awkwardly, pulling his trousers up a bit as if it would help. you opened your mouth to speak, then closed it. opened it, before closing it again. you were pretty sure you resembled a damn fish. whatever was happening to you, you did not like it one bit.

"i- you- we- ithinkthisisyours." you finally spluttered, slamming the book into his chest. his hand touched yours momentarily when he grabbed it so that it wouldn't drop onto your feet. you felt lightheaded.

lorenzo was kind of freaking out, but only kind of, not even bothering to look at what you had given him at first. he was a little too busy staring at your blushing face, wondering what the hell was going on and why his heart was in his throat all of a sudden, "are you alright?" he queried, concerned.

"i am perfectly fine." that was a lie. 

"ah," he nodded, then eyed the piece of literature in his hands shortly as he slowly figured what it was, "oh! thank you."

you laughed in misery, "okay!" before shutting the door in your own face. you tripped and almost fell down the stairs as you ran, still flushed and your heart beating in a way that you found a little too unusual to push away.

you received a few judgemental glares from the students you had run past. the question marks were practically visible above their heads. you were too busy going hysterical to sneer at them for staring. you burst through the door of your dorm, breathless and blushing, "what the fuck?"

somewhere back inside the dungeons, a confused lorenzo turned to face his friends, still holding the book you had given to him. he had no idea what on earth happened, or why you reacted the way you did, or why he, deep down, found it more adorable than he'd like to admit. he groaned, falling face-first onto his bed. what the fuck, indeed. christmas holidays never looked more promising.

and oh how you regretted waiting for them with so much anticipation. you were supposed to get a break. from books, assignments, essays, whatever lorenzo was doing to you. hogwarts was supposed to be all yours. you weren't heading home that year. it was your parents' twentieth anniversary, so there was no point in going back, considering that you wouldn't see them (you didn't exactly have friends in your hometown either). they'd be having the time of their lives in the alps, and you'd be regretting every decision you had made up until that point.

not only because you were already bored out of your mind waiting for your friends to return, but because you saw lorenzo sitting at the slytherin table when you walked into the great hall on christmas eve. the image of him opening the door two weeks prior flashed through your mind. it happened often, in the most inconvenient situations too. you were hoping you didn't look too flushed.

"what are you doing here?" he questioned in amusement once you slid over to him, an equally puzzled expression on your face. "i could ask you the same thing." 

"all in good time." he cleared his throat, awkward. it was weird, but you didn't think much of it just yet. instead you sighed, taking a quick look around, and then speaking, "my parents ditched me for a skiing trip."

he snorted, motioning over to the very empty seat beside him. you sat down, no thoughts behind it. he was the only person among the ones who stayed for the holidays who you knew enough to hold a conversation, so it's not like you had better options. besides, that was your chance to see if there was more to his sudden change in behaviour. you were unnerved at the idea of even having the desire to do such a thing.

"what's your excuse?" you reached over his arm to grab a piece of toast, as well as some jam and chocolate spread.

"parents as well." you didn't miss the way he shifted uncomfortably. you put down your knife and propped your arms on the table, eyeing him expectantly. he held back shortly, and you couldn't blame him. who were you to think that he'd trust you with a possible family issue?

"i was told that i'm a disappointment and i'm not allowed home until i get my grades in tact." he stabbed the bacon in his plate aggressively, not looking at you. your jaw dropped in shock.

"in tact?" you uttered in disbelief. it was practically common knowledge that lorenzo exceeded you in a lot of subjects, a little more than half of them actually, so in your mind, this shouldn't have even been a problem. he was one of the top students. everybody knew that. your parents expected you to do well too, but they weren't that pushy or strict. yeah, receiving a howler for momentarily falling behind in october was aggravating, but nothing that you couldn't bear. lorenzo's, however, were crossing a line.

he hummed, picking at his food, "don't say anything." he sighed, it almost sounded like a plea. he couldn't just ask you for comfort, or ask of you to understand. faux sympathy was the last thing he needed.

"no, it's just–" you chewed on the inside of your cheek and picked up your knife again, spreading some jam over the piece of toast you grabbed previously, "you're not a disappointment, that's bullshit." you bit into the crunchy bread, chewing it slowly, a sour expression on your face. lorenzo went a bit red, stumbling over his words before getting out a clumsy i know, followed by a hesitant thanks anyway. 

you said nothing for the remaining few minutes of breakfast, just eating in silence while other students chatted in background. when you were exiting the great hall together to return to your respective dorms, you made eye contact with mcgonagall for a brief moment. she offered you a proud smile, yet with a hint of mischief behind it. you had never been more confused.

you spent the first half of christmas day alone in the gryffindor common room, reading some trashy muggle romance novel you found under hermione's bed a couple of nights before. it was one of the worst books you had ever picked up, but there was something so annoyingly addicting about it that you just couldn't give it up. it left you feeling empty and lonely, and with a strong desire to fling yourself straight into the depths of the black lake.

"christ, l/n, why do you look so sullen?" you shut your eyes, exhaling through your nose. just what you needed. you weren't even gonna question lorenzo was doing there. you had a clue.

"you don't wanna know." you tossed the book across the room, internally celebrating when he decided not to investigate further.

he made a face, "merry christmas?"

"likewise." you replied blandly. when you didn't tell him to get lost, he jumped onto the sofa, getting comfortable next to you. he didn't look all too happy either.

you sat there for good twenty minutes, staring at the fire like your entire worlds were crumbling in front of your eyes. it didn't occur to the either of you how awful it would feel to spend christmas all alone for the first time. no presents, no childhood foods, no hugs from mum in the morning. you even missed your spoiled cousins who would nag you to play with them each time you visited their house on boxing day.

it fucking sucked, but god, at least lorenzo was there. you'd push aside everything that happened between you in the previous years just for a twinge of affection. something came over you, and you lowered your head onto his shoulder, almost sighing in relief when he didn't shove you away. he scooted closer and rested his head on top of yours, not speaking.

from that moment onward, you saw each other every day. he'd show up at your dorm at random moments and you'd show up at his at even worse ones. you'd take walks in the snow together and come back with soaking wet clothes and red noses. you'd smoke in the courtyard before bed after making sure the coast was clear. you'd go to hogsmeade and fight over who was gonna pay for the butterbeer until you came up with a nonsensical compromise. you'd sneak out at night to steal books from the restricted section of the library and then read them under covers in the slytherin dorms. you'd sometimes fall asleep next to each other and then act like nothing happened in the morning.

***

you expected it all to fade to nothing once everybody else came back to hogwarts, but then it didn't. you still took walks in the snow and argued over butterbeer and snuck out after midnight (and had to clean several toilets after getting caught almost every time). he still helped you with arithmancy without asking for anything in return, and you'd sometimes kiss him on the cheek if you were in a good mood. you thrived off of the expressions that would paint his face whenever you did that.

but with the return of other students also came whispers and rumours, following you around like shadows. you ignored them tactfully, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of confirming that their silly theories may have been right all along. especially not hermione. she wouldn't let you forget that until you perished. she'd probably leave a note on your grave too, so you'd have that humiliating reminder haunting you in the afterlife.

"i thought you two hated each other." mattheo deadpanned one evening after lorenzo had brought you to the slytherin common room, straight into the damn snake pit. you were squashed together on the sofa, a large book splayed open across your laps, not getting read. it was one of the stolen ones. all of his friends were there, watching you like hawks.

"we do." you responded nonchalantly, taking the cigarette that lorenzo handed you. you took a long drag before putting it back between his lips.

"then why do you spend so much time together?" draco was very obviously judging you. he of all people should have understood. lorenzo rolled his eyes.

"you are in no place to talk, mister i hate potter but snog him in my off time." blaise took your side, bless his soul, and tossed theodore's shoe in his direction. shutting draco up was easier than you would have thought.

"no, but why?" mattheo repeated draco's question, propping his chin up into his palm and observing you curiously.

"maybe, they're– wait, what do you call that?" theodore leaned into pansy, hoping she had an answer.

"masochists?" she replied casually and lit a cigarette herself.

you choked on your spit. lorenzo almost burnt a hole in the sofa. but then pansy brushed her friend off, staring at the two of you with a mischievous grin, "not really, i think they're just bad liars."

and she was so bloody right. hate was the last thing that could be used to describe your relationship. third year you's biggest nightmare was a better label for it, given that you couldn't even be in the same room as him without trying to turn him into something nasty.

present day you was having a difficult time stopping herself from trying to kiss him whenever he was in her presence. it was that fucking frustrating. you couldn't believe yourself. lorenzo was facing the same struggles, and you couldn't tell if he was worsening or subduing the tension by randomly touching you. not like you minded, you were loving it all and stopped bothering with trying to hide it from him. your ego may have been large, but your crush on him ended up being bigger.

potions class was usually the height of it all, although it wasn't the only period during which you got to sit next to your favourite rival. mcgonagall was was thriving, unlike snape, who simply could not get used to the positive energy surrounding you, or the way you were together each time he crossed your paths. seeing pure fear flash through his eyes at the beginning of every class was hilarious.

when lorenzo arrived, you felt yourself starting to smile and tried to push it away with the most unsettling thoughts you could muster. it did nothing. he sat down with a dramatic groan, and immediately started ranting about some minor issue he had run into that morning. he did that a lot. this time it was about his favourite pair of socks going missing. you sucked in practically everything he said, chuckled at the random curses, noticed every breath of frustration he released as he was rummaging through his bag. you didn't realise you were staring. lorenzo did, but he didn't comment on it. he liked when you were looking at him.

you failed to regsiter that the lesson officially began, but not much was happening, really. snape was telling you about felix felicis and how insanely difficult it was to make, while you were required to write down the most useful bits of the information he was giving out. when he finally sat down after assigning you to read an overly long passage, lorenzo shifted closer to you. you eyed him, puzzled.

"would you kill me if i asked you for a favour?" you focused half of your attention on the writing, half on him.

"depends what the favour is." you shrugged. he put his arm over the text to prevent you from reading. he wanted you to look at him. he had always wanted you to look at him. from the very moment your fued set off, it was one of those little annoying things that made your hatred for him stronger. not anymore, but it was still infuriating in its own way. you gave him your full attention. he may have seen some sparks fly. you had each other wrapped around your little fingers without even realising it.

he shifted even closer to you so that you could hear him better, considering that he had to whisper, "can you come to hogsmeade with me today?" his breath fanned over your ear as he spoke. you didn't respond, so he continued, "none of my friends want to and it would be stupid if i went alone. you do kind of owe me." ah, yes. for that time he saved you from detention after slughorn caught you two smoking in the astronomy tower. you shot him with an annoyed look. you both knew it was exaggerated and what your answer would be, yet you still played around with it. that's the way things went. he smirked. bitch.

"fine." he was so smug about it, you could choke him and snog him at the same time. he got his arm away from your textbook, but didn't retrieve his chair. you were squeezed next to one another despite having more than enough space. your arms were touching, and so were your legs beneath the table. you moved not a muscle, and neither did he. you had grown to like having him sit so close to you. it made you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, helping you ignore the freezing winter air and the thick layer of snow covering the ground outside.

you met him in the courtyard after a quick change of clothing following the end of your classes for that week. when hermione asked you where you were heading and why you won't be staying in the common room with the rest of your friends, you told a half truth. that you were heading to hogsmeade, but then bolted out the door before she was able to ask with whom. she would guess either way.

"i forgot to ask you why we were doing this in the first place." you spoke as you left the school grounds, your hands shoved into your pockets and your face hidden inside of your fluffy scarf. you were a little cold. lorenzo was too, his nose was already going red. it was an adorable sight to see, but you weren't dumb enough to say that out loud.

"i wanna pick up a few poetry books." you bit your tongue, trying not to laugh at him.

"didn't know you could read." you snickered, it was stronger than you.

"you're so original," he mocked, "they're not for me. pansy's birthday's coming up so i figured i should get her something."

"oh." the disappointment in your tone was obvious.

all of your willingness to go with him left you in an instant. his presence was more irritating than ever. he furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you chew on the inside of your cheek, wondering if he said something wrong. again... or not. lorenzo was smarter than that.

"what, are you jealous?" he nudged you, teasing. yes. you hated yourself just a tiny bit for that, "no," you scoffed, "in your dreams, berkshire."

"we both know you can't fool me." he kept the act going. you gave him a shove, making him stumble. he almost tripped and fell in a pile of snow. it was very funny. he tried to get back at you, but you slipped out of his reach, laughing when he began chasing you.

spending time with him was like a getaway from all the things that drove you mad, even though he sometimes excelled at that. he became a friend you didn't know you needed and a friend you were pretty sure you were catching some major feelings for.

you entered the bookstore as your unplanned snowball fight came to an end, its warmth immediately engulfing you. after being in the cold for longer than intended, it was just what you desired. you stuck with lorenzo for the first few minutes, helping him out and leading him away from the large isle of erotic novels he accidentally found himself in. people were looking at you weird, especially your schoolmates, so you stepped away from the crowded bits of the shop and decided to check out different sections.

a certain book had caught your eye – its contents intrigued you, but the price did something opposite. you put it back on the shelf without second guessing yourself. you hadn't brought any money with you. you continued roaming through the different isles, browsing through various books while you waited for lorenzo to finish. you lost sight of him for a few minutes, too busy debating whether to make him come back with you here some other time so you could purchase whatever your heart desired.

for the time being, you'd have to leave the shop with empty hands. lorenzo was luckier and ended up getting five poetry books which all seemed to be written by the same author, except for one. he handed you the odd one out. you opened your mouth, ready to complain about your fingers being cold and not wanting to carry it. slowly, you realised what it was. your jaw dropped a little.

he had seen you looking at it ever so longingly when he went to check up on you after realising you had gone off on your own. he picked it up without hesitation. you were too stunned to thank him, too stunned to say anything, for the matter. but he wasn't exactly expecting a thank you. he was just happy that you liked it, grinning when you blushed and struggled to keep it cool.

"you shouldn't have done that." you chastised. those were the only words you could muster. he rolled his eyes, "deal with it."

you punched his shoulder. he didn't even flinch, "you're welcome."

when he threatened to ruin your life when you were twelve years old, this wasn't how you thought it would happen.

"i'm gonna kill you." you weren't exactly addressing him, more like talking to yourself.

"you're still on about that?" he huffed, pretending to be bored.

"lorenzo!" you groaned, he chuckled, "i love you too." your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. his weird confession seemed unserious, but your heart still fluttered. little did you know that he wasn't as oblivious as you imagined.

he was positively glowing at the reactions he was getting from you. his tiny year five crush on you had blossomed into something stronger after that moment at the lake a couple of months prior, and at last, the possibility of you feeling the same wasn't looking so small. if only you saw through his actions. all those offers of help, and his complete dismissal of your rivarly, and his clinginess, and how he stuck to you like glue whenever he got the opportunity.

your walk back to the castle surprisingly wasn't silent. you were chatting quietly, snickering amongst yourselves. your shoulders brushed occasionally, and so did your hands, and you thought your heart might burst. you shivered as the wind got stronger, pressing yourself a little closer to him.

"you okay?"

"huh?" you didn't register what he said at first, "oh, yes. just a little cold, that's all." you explained, not taking your eyes away from the pathway you were pacing across.

"let's hurry up, then." he took a hold of your hand, swiftly leading you back to the castle. you were so, royally fucked. you clutched onto the poetry book tightly, focused on regulating your breathing. your entire face was on fire, your breaths ragged, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

four days later, you caught a terrible cold after accidentally falling asleep by the window while you were reading. hermione said that she expected better from you. she was fantastic help. you were pretty sure you were dying. your limbs hurt. your head was throbbing. your sinuses were clogged. your throat felt like someone had stuck a knife into it. but did you skip any lessons because of it or at least visit madam pomfrey to see if she could do anything? no, you weren't that helpless. you'd deal with it on your own.

or try to, at least. you stumbled into class resembling a zombie, eager to sit down and hopefully not do much work for the day. you placed your arms on the desk, laying your head into them and shutting your eyes. you opened them only a few seconds later when lorenzo shifted next to you. you were met with his worried face, just a couple of centimeters away from yours. when you didn't budge, he touched your cheek with the back of his hand, frowning.

"you're burning up." he kept his voice down, but his tone was giving away the fact that your state concerned him greatly. you waved a dismissive hand, closing your eyes again. he poked you to make you look at him.

"have you went to madam pomfrey?" he questioned. you shook your head. if looks could kill, his probably would have.

"i'll go later." you reassured him poorly, just to get him to stop. the last thing you needed was getting all flustered and emotional because he was showing more interest in taking care of you than anybody else in your circle of friends.

"your later usually means never," he was right. you hated that. you grunted, hiding your reddening face. that was both from the fever and from him, "hey." he threw his arm around you when he didn't get a resonse. you leaned into his touch faster than you thought you would, just searching for any sort of warmth there was.

other students were giggling, but he couldn't care less, "y/n."

you lifted your head again, and then allowed it to fall against his shoulder. mcgonagall stepped through the classroom door shortly after that, her mouth dropping a little when she saw the position you were in. she was gonna scold you for displaying your affection so publicly, but lorenzo quickly explained the situation, and before you were able to protest, she shooed the both of you outside.

he immediately intertwined your fingers, walking at a slower pace than usual, not wanting to tire you more. as annoyed as that made you, you didn't pull your hand away, and instead kept your body close to his. he was muttering something, scolding you for being so dismissive and not getting this fixed right away. you were too exhausted to argue, but he was right anyway.

you inhaled sharply as your headache increased in intensity, latching onto his arm and stopping in your tracks. you shut you eyes, thinking it would help and ease it a bit. you felt him move to stand in front of you. his forehead fell against yours and his hands cupped your cheeks gently. you held onto him, taking a few deep breaths through your nose. his thumbs grazed over your skin ever so slightly, as if that his was his way of trying to soothe you.

eventually, your eyes fluttered open, but neither of you let the other go. lorenzo broke the silence between you, "you're so bloody stubborn."

"you're one to talk." you chuckled dryly, hugging him a bit tighter. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, waiting for you to give him a sign that you were ready to walk again. when you nodded, he took your hand again, leading you to the hospital wing.

madam pomfrey had you going back to normal with a simple flick of her wand after a tiny scolding, and then she pinched lorenzo's cheek and called him a "good boy" for being so caring. the unexpected praise had his eyes going wide and he was blushing madly – you were never gonna let him forget that one.

she instructed you to come back if the cold returned, but she was addressing lorenzo more than she was you. a smart move on her part, the older woman knew you and your headstrong ways well enough. she ushered you out only after she made sure were in perfect shape to head back to class, though you couldn't do it without rubbing her comment into lorenzo face until he turned completely red again. he had to tickle you to get you to stop and you caused a bit of a commotion in the silent corridors, but that didn't matter. you returned to the transfiguration classroom with your pinkies intertwined, all eyes on you. you two really needed to talk.

and what are the odds of him being caring enough to check up on you later that day. he knew he wouldn't find you in your dorm, or the common room, or the library, or the astronomy tower. instead, he headed to the only other place on his mind, where the two of you often hung out on nights when neither of you could sleep.

you were sat on one of the stone walls in the courtyard, a cigarette in your hand, kind of forgotten. you hadn't noticed that it was burning out, or the occasional ash landing on your clothes. your thoughts were going places, recalling the many events that occured during the past few months, and what on earth you were going to do about your feelings. you could hide them from your friends for some time, but not from lorenzo. you blew out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. being straightforward with that idiot was always easy. you never had trouble with telling him exactly what you meant. 

the fact that you were anxious about it now was the most maddening thing in the world.

"what a depressing sight." you flinched, whipping your head in lorenzo's direction almost instantly. you couldn't tell if that was luck or misfortune. you snorted, rolling your eyes and offering him the remainder of your cigarette. he gladly took it, joining you in silence.

"why are you here?" you questioned.

"came to check up on you." he replied.

"i can take care of myself just fine." you patted his back. he seemed unphased. of course he was, he knew he'd win that argument.

you glimpsed up at the sky shortly. it was snowing just a little bit. you turned to lorenzo, a pleading expression on your face, "walk with me?"

he nodded, tossing the cigarette butt into the snow. you left the school grounds once again knowing that you wouldn't make it back before curfew, but that wasn't something the either of you dwelled on very much. there were more important things to get worried about.

it was obvious that you kept dodging the subject, settling for talking about things so insignificant that you would probably tell somebody to shut up if they brought them up in conversation on a normal day. being ballsy wasn't your thing anymore, as it seemed.

as cowardly as you felt, the sore winner in you wasn't letting you back down. a long internal debate and a silent minute of self-deprecation was what it took to make you finally speak your mind... to an extent, "have you ever felt incredibly guilty about being wrong about someone?"

lorenzo stared at you as if you were insane. it was a little too early on in the conversation for him to start connecting the dots. his street-smarts were sometimes lacking.

"you sure your cold didn't come back?" he pressed his hand against your forehead. you let out a startled laugh, observing his questioning face.

"what?" you spluttered, shoving your hands further into your pockets. the skeptical look in his eyes was making you nervous.

"you're admitting that you were wrong about something?" he sounded unconvinced, but there was a hint of jest in his voice.

you bit your tongue, clearing your throat awkwardly, "yes." you breathed out. he nodded, a way to tell you to go on. he was definitely interested. you were beginning to suspect that he already knew what you were gonna say.

"i mean," you grunted, cursing quietly, "you know when you spend years convinced that somebody is an awful person and claiming you hate their guts but then end up realising that they aren't nearly as terrible as you thought when you get to know them properly?" you explained frustratedly, resisting the temptation to kick the snow piling at your feet.

his mouth fell open in surprise for a moment, but he quickly shut it, running a hand through his hair, "uh, yeah, actually." he uttered nervously, scanning your face for any sign of humour. but you weren't playing around, and certainly not lying. he had been around you enough to be able to tell when you were being truthful.

you gave him a brief nod, looking everywhere but at him. you barely noticed that your hands were shaking. you contined walking on, not saying a single thing. if he were to tell you that he could hear your heart beating, you wouldn't even have the time to act surprised.

"i have to tell you something." he stopped in his tracks, grabbing your elbow in order to make your steps halt. you faced him, looking down at your feet, waiting for him to drop the bomb. he chewed on his lip anxiously, running a hand through his hair.

"i, um," he was struggling, not exactly knowing how to begin. how to formulate that sentence, even. he wished he could just show you. he reached to take your hand, and you let him, standing there motionless.

it was his turn to panic, "i- fuck." he met your gaze. you knew that look. you knew that bloody look he gave you when you were both thinking the same thing. two years prior it would have been something along the lines of i want to kill you. but it had turned into something that was a lot closer to i want to kiss you. you wanted to fucking cry. 

you nodded, breathing out and blinking your tears away. he almost sighed in relief, cupping your cheeks, and that's when your lips pressed against the last pair of lips you thought you'd ever be kissing.

you reached up to touch his face – that pretty face you once hated the sight of, but then couldn't get enough of. you pulled back only for a moment, only to connect again, neither letting the other go. your kisses were unhurried, soft, and loving, despite months upon months of pining, despite the years of pent up hate that was, at the end of day, sort of bound to blossom into love.

at the end of your seventh year, when you were leaving hogwarts hand in hand, mcgonagall stopped you on the way out. it was only then that she told you what had actually happened that gloomy day october, the one that practically sealed your fates for eternity. the overflow of different emotions was too strong for you to have time to act shocked, and you pulled the woman into a big hug, thanking her with teary eyes. for putting up with you for so many years, and for managing to do the unimaginable.

[hiramaris]

I'm gonna request something for haley bc i love how you write her and not so obsessed. im not sure if you are writing for request? but im gonna give my shot

a prompt where haley as wife, and the farmer was late passed midnight because of mining shit. and almost died (lmao). she got home safely, but limping with her wounds and bruise. then there's haley, saw her wife barely walking and her reaction, just comfort, fluff, worried and taking care of the farmer.

that's all, thanks, no pressure <3

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 7

Chapter Summary:

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: violence, blood

Notes:

thanks to anon for being the first-ever reader to request a prompt. I initially thought to make a separate fic for this one but I realized why not make it as a new chapter? There would be some adjustments to the prompt, instead of Haley being the farmer's wife, she'd be somewhere in between a friend and a woman struggling to put a name to what she's feeling with the farmer. I'm really sorry anon for not following the route you're hoping for but I do hope you'll like this one.

Summer 9

The sound of thunder clapping from above her made it difficult for sleep to come that night. Despite the late hour, the darkness outside was illuminated intermittently by flashes of lightning, casting eerie shadows across the walls of her room.

Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a constant reminder of Yoba's fury. The room felt oppressive, suffocating almost, as if the storm had seeped its way indoors, invading her sanctuary.

She had always hated rain. Well, the main reason is it's horrible weather for a dashing photographer like her. Not only does it ruin her hair that she spent all morning fixing, but it could also ruin her equipment. Oh, did she also mention it gives an awful lighting?

She also shares the same level of dislike for storms because they destroy the calmness of rain. It's aggressive, cold, and destructive.

That's why the moment the news announced there would be a storm for the next three days, she was quick to stock every little favorite snack she could think of because there was no way she was waltzing outside in that kind of weather.

Haley popped out a tired eye as she looked at the clock beside her.

1:56 AM.

Oh, joy it's almost two in the morning. How in Yoba's name could she go outside with bags under her eyes probably heavier than all of Emily's hippie gems combined?

'I mean– there's always a concealer,' she thought but quickly dismissed the idea.

She has been minimizing her makeup since... since whatever (when you told her she looked prettier even without them) PLUS with summer's sweltering heat, layering on cosmetics seemed suffocating.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the bed, determination flashing in her tired eyes as she made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk, hoping that this little solution would finally give her the sleep she'd been craving for.

But as she reached for the milk, a cacophony outside shattered the stillness of the night. Haley froze, her heart pounding in her chest. It's kind of hard to tell with the harsh rain and thunder and everything.

As if to confirm that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, a set of audible coughs echoed just behind the door. Haley's heart thumped so loud she was afraid it might come out of her chest.

That could only be an intruder.

In Haley's sleep-deprived mind, she didn't stop to even realize that Pelican Town had never experienced a robbery in the dead of night. Instead, she quickly bolted to her room, grabbing Alex's old baseball bat he had left here one time, not even having the presence of mind to wake up Emily to face this 'intruder' together.

****

Spoiler alert, it wasn't an intruder but an idiotic farmer covered in dirt and unbelievably wet from the rain.

You were holding your rucksack close to your chest for dear life with your sword held tightly by your other hand when Haley found you slumped against the door.

"What the hell are you doing outside at this hour and in this weather?" was the first words she uttered when her eyes spotted you. She was quick to help you up and bring you inside, not even minding the mud and water accumulating from where you stood.

When you didn't respond, Haley met your eyes.

Haley's heart nearly stopped at the sight beyond her. Without being hidden by the darkness, she could finally see your whole state.

There standing is the farmer herself. Your white hoodie was tattered and looked burned. Your hoodie's sleeves are ripped too up to your upper arms, and your left arm has a cut with fresh blood still gushing out of it.

You were missing the other pair of your shoes, and your hair was disheveled and covered with slime. You even had multiple scratches and scrapes all over your body. Your right cheek has some small scratches, and blood is rushing out of the wound on your forehead.

"Yoba..." Haley's voice was barely a whisper as she gently cupped your cheeks, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Her eyes flickered to the gash on your forehead, blood still seeping from the wound. "What happened, Y/n/n? We need to get you to Harvey!"

You shook your head weakly, struggling to stand upright. "No... H-harvey," you protested, your voice strained. "H-he'll kill me."

"Y/n!" Haley's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace as you nearly stumbled over her. She wanted to reprimand you, to demand answers, but the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart against her chest prevented her from doing so.

For now, she needed to make sure you were okay.

You only grunted in response as you gave in to her, allowing her to guide you onto the cushions.

"I'm just gonna get a towel and the first aid." Her lips trembled as she said those words.

In record time, she was able to get everything she thought you'd need, afraid if she missed any more seconds you wouldn't be breathing.

When she returned to the living room, she almost went ballistic when she spotted your form unmoving from your seat.

"Y/n! Wake up, for Yoba's sake! Don't you dare die on—" Haley's words caught in her throat as you rasped out a response.

"...oh, look an angel," you managed with a small grin, your tired eyes fluttering open.

Haley couldn't help but smile softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Very funny," she replied, relief flooding through her as she saw you conscious, if only barely.

Wordlessly, she draped a towel over you, tucking it gently to ensure you stayed warm. It was the same blanket she used during storms like this when she felt cold herself.

With a purposeful stride, she made her way to the fireplace, adding more wood to the fire in hopes of warming you further.

"Keep your eyes open, please? I'm just gonna get some rags to clean up your wound," she requested gently.

She placed the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of you before heading to the kitchen to gather clean rags and a sponge.

Returning to the living room, she filled a bowl with tap water and carried it carefully as she made her way back to you.

With great tenderness, Haley cautiously wiped the blood from your body with the sponge, dampening it in the tap water she had prepared. She winced as the color of the water turned red.

"You lost too much blood," Haley commented, masking the shakiness of her voice. She wasn't a great fan of blood but she was not naive with treating minor injuries either. She silently thanked Yoba for letting Emily force her to learn a thing or two about first aid.

You only grunted in response to her observation.

"What happened, Y/n?" She couldn't hide the worry in her voice even if she dared try. "I should call Harvey and get you to the clinic."

You groaned as she accidentally applied too much pressure to your wound. "No... it's okay. It's n-nothing, I'm fine."

"These serious injuries don't shout nothing, Y/n. What the hell happened?"

"'I went to the mine..." you explained, and Haley waited expectantly for you to continue.

"It's storming."

"I know..." You couldn't look at her in the eye. "It's just that there's not much going on in the farm so I thought I should continue my expeditions in the mine. I thought it would be safe but..."

"But it wasn't." Haley couldn't helped but deadpan.

You visibly winced, unsure if it was because of your wounds, Haley's biting remark, or just both. "I heard from Marlon I could find rare items once I reached the hundredth floor, which I did," you explained, tapping your rucksack beside you. "But I should have known better that those items are rare for a reason. Not because they're hard to find, but because they're hard to acquire. Once I got hold of this baby," you gestured to your bag, "the whole cave was swarmed by slimes and shadow people."

"What?" Haley's voice sputtered with disbelief, her brows furrowing in concern. "Shadow people? I thought they were just myths!"

You tried to nod in confirmation, but Haley kept a firm hand on your cheeks, preventing the movement. "Uhuh, they're very real," you affirmed, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "And I can say they aren't really fond of us humans and, uh, dwarves I think. They're more scared of me than intimidating. I tried not to, y'know, hurt them."

"That's a stupid idea."

"I know," you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor. "But given our history with them, I didn't want to give them any more reason to hate us. Plus, I was the one invading their homes."

Haley let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping with weariness. "Still, you should have fought back. What if they had killed you in there? How would we have known you were down there and rotting? You're the only one crazy enough to go down there anyway."

You didn't speak after that, and Haley mistook that as compliance. She was too busy fuming at your lack of self-preservation to notice the frown creasing on your features.

After managing to cleanse the visible injuries of your body, she began to grab some clean rags to apply some pressure on your forehead and your forearm to keep your bleeding to an absolute minimum.

She cursed softly under her breath, trying to think of what to do next.

"…Y/n? Y/n, wake up, stop sleeping," Haley's voice was quiet, her tone laced with urgency as she gently tapped your cheek.

Your eyes pulled themselves open and looked tiredly at her. "Hn?"

"I need you to sit up straight and pull your hoodie off. What do you have underneath?" Haley's words were gentle but firm as she carefully supported your shoulder and hip.

"…just a tank top."

Slowly, you strained to sit upright, wincing with discomfort. Haley could tell from the way your grip tightened on her wrist that you were not comfortable sitting for very long.

With Haley's assistance, you managed to pull your hoodie off, careful not to aggravate any wounds. Once the clothes were removed, Haley's eyes lingered on the minor cuts just below your chest, blood still seeping from the wounds. She grabbed the sponge again, gently brushing away the blood from your cuts.

After cleansing the wounds, Haley applied alcohol and antibiotics, causing you to grunt in discomfort. No words were exchanged as she skillfully wrapped bandages around your forehead, forearm, and abdomen. She then helped you into warmer clothes she found in her wardrobe, her movements gentle and reassuring.

"How do you feel?" Haley bit her lip, anxious. Honestly speaking, she wasn't confident in her abilities to treat injuries, so she anxiously awaited your response, hoping she hadn't made things worse.

"…I'm alright now," you rasped, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. "…thank you, Hay."

Haley felt a wave of relief wash over her at your words. Your face had regained some color compared to earlier when you looked as pale as a ghost.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she questioned tentatively. "I'll whip you up some tea and soup."

You swallowed gently and nodded your head.

"I'll be back soon then. Rest. I'll wake you when your soup is done."

****

About twenty minutes later, Haley went back into the living room, a tray in her hands. She found you sprawled on the couch (thankfully not moving too much), embracing your rucksack in your arms once again. She wanted to question what was inside and why you couldn't part with it so much but decided to make sure you were okay first.

The things she does for you.

She placed the tray of food on the coffee table and sat beside you, taking in your sleeping form.

"Y/n/n? Food's ready," Haley said softly, tapping your thigh to rouse you from your slumber.

Startled and kind of a forced of habit, you tried to sit up straight. Thankfully, Haley was fast enough to stop you.

"Don't get up. | don't want to wrap your wounds again," Haley admonished, her tone firm.

She grabbed a pillow and propped it behind your back to elevate your head slightly. As she picked up the bowl of chicken soup, she could feel your eyes on her.

"I can feed myself, Haley. Thank you," you finally spoke. Haley's eyes met yours briefly before she averted her gaze, a flicker of emotion passing over her features.

"Clearly, you aren't capable of feeding yourself. Stop being a baby and let me do this."

Your eyes settled on her for probably a full minute before you sighed in resignation. Despite the hardened gaze she probably wore on her face, Haley gently placed a spoonful of soup in your mouth.

"I know you can, Y/n," Haley spoke after a few moments. "But you lost too much blood already, I don't want you to bleed again."

"I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble," you uttered softly.

Haley paused and finally looked at you, like, really looked at you properly this time. Since you had arrived covered in mud and blood, she had been operating on autopilot, with only one mission: ensuring you were okay. It's the only thing running through her mind, leaving no room for anything else. Mainly, she hadn't thought about the impact of her words.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's no trouble. I'm just..." Haley paused, thinking about what words to use without giving away that she cared too much. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

Once you had finished eating, Haley placed the empty bowl down and reached for a damp cloth. Brushing away a stray lock of your hair, she gently wiped away a few drops of blood and dirt, her touch surprisingly gentle. She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice you watching her quietly, your expression softening as she attended to the blemish on your face.

"Haley..." you called softly, breaking the silence. Haley looked down at you, her eyes startled. A small, appreciative smile graced your lips as you continued, "Thank you."

Haley couldn't help but smile in return. Sometimes it's hard to stay mad at you. "You can thank me by resting and making sure this won't happen again."

You chuckled softly as you closed your eyes, resting your head against the pillow once more. "No promises."

Seeing that you were getting sleepy, Haley quickly gathered the empty bowl and cup and placed them in the sink. When she returned, she extended a hand to help you up, much to your confusion.

"Come, let's get you to my room."

"Haley," you protested weakly. "I couldn't possibly impose more than I already have."

"Shut up. I won't let an injured woman sleep on the couch, Y/n."

Despite your protests, Haley managed to convince you to agree with her proposed setup. While Haley wasn't entirely keen on sleeping on the couch herself, it's not like she has a choice on the matter. The cushion is uncomfortable as hell, it's like sitting on a pile of bricks. That's more than enough reason to let you sleep on her bed. Plus, with the mess and worry weighing on her mind, she doubted she'd be able to sleep anyway.

She was about to leave to clean the mess in the living room when she finally sat you down on her bed, but a hand stopped her.

"…have you seen my bag, Hay?"

"Oh, that? Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, no. Thanks but I can get it myself." You made a move to stand but Haley kept a firm grip on your shoulder.

Haley frowned. "You can't barely even stand. Do you think I'm gonna let you walk by yourself? What's in the bag anyway? I'll get it for you."

"I'm wounded, not disabled–" you tried to say but Haley only raised an eyebrow at you, daring you to finish your sentence. You sighed when you realized that you wouldn't win against her again. "It's... it's a gift."

"For whom?" Haley couldn't help but ask. Who could you possibly want to give a gift that you almost died just to get it?

Was it for Penny? Haley heard she liked gems as well. Or was it Maru? If she could remember correctly, tomorrow's her birthday and she seemed to like everything you can find in caves. This totally makes sense.

But why did her heart clench at the thought? More importantly, how did she even remember all this information when she didn't care about them at all?

Before you could respond, Haley left the room to retrieve your rucksack. She felt like she didn't need to hear the answer to her question.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed the bag to you, prepared to leave the room once more. However, your voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It's for you."

She turned, mouth agape. "What?"

"It's for you." You smiled warmly as you held out a familiar-looking crystalline gem, about the size of a palm, emitting a dazzling array of colors.

Haley's initial surprise quickly turned to dismay as she recognized the mineral. Her frown deepened, and a flicker of discomfort passed through her eyes at the sight of it. She knew what it was, and just the thought of touching it made her feel physically ill.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned at her sudden change in demeanor.

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

"I..."

"Keep it," she said with finality. "Good night, Y/n."

With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and stormed off, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the room as she left.

****

She shouldn't have said that. She knows she shouldn't have but she was just so worried she couldn't control anything else spouting from her foul mouth.

She hated how she caused the light in your eyes to die down. Hated the way you weren't able to say anything else. Hated the way she just couldn't probably express her worries properly.

Now you probably thought she hated your guts.

Which is far from the truth. Kind of the opposite actually but she's far too tired and confused to delve into her feelings further at the moment.

It's true she doesn't share the same passion for gems and rocks as her sister Emily, and people will generally thank someone who will give them a prismatic shard because for one, they are pretty, she's not gonna lie about that. Secondly, they're super rare and by extension, expensive.

Haley just couldn't bring herself to appreciate it in the same way.

She hated them with passion. And she hated people assuming she liked shiny things because of her personality.

While it's true she's kind of materialistic, it was a trait ingrained in her from years of her parents trying to compensate for their absence by showering her with gifts.

She didn't like being materialistic, but she's so used to it that it's hard to stop.

And she hated how you seemed to think the same way about her when you thought about giving her a prismatic shard as a gift. That all she ever was were just pretty and expensive gifts.

And she hated how you let yourself get hurt just to give her this.

She hated everything about this.

****

Haley spent the majority of the night cleaning the living room, hoping to tire herself out enough to dull the heaviness and emptiness in her heart. She didn't know it was possible to feel both at the same time, but there she was, experiencing it firsthand, and she despised every moment of it.

And she hated herself more now because she found herself padding her way towards her room. Her steps faltered when she saw you peacefully sleeping on her bed. A gentle smile touched her lips at the sight of your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Unable to resist, Haley approached you quietly. She carefully tucked you in, a tenderness in her actions that betrayed the turmoil in her heart. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to your bandaged forehead, a gesture she had learned from her late grandmother.

"To kiss the pain away," her grandmother used to say, and Haley found solace in that belief.

With one last caress of your cheek, Haley settled onto the foot of her bed, a magazine in hand, silently hoping for the sun's rays to finally peek behind the horizon by her room's window.

****

Haley woke up surprisingly lacking any back pains. She didn't feel sleep-deprived either.

Wait—

How'd she get in her bed? You're supposed to be– Oh.

She sat up straight when she realized she was holding a letter in her hand. Straightening up the almost crumpled paper, she could recognize your handwriting immediately.

Good morning, Haley. Sorry for the disturbance last night, and thank you for taking care of me. It means a lot. I didn't want to impose more than I already have so I excused myself while you were asleep. Thank you again. — Y/n

Haley studied the letter, noting the hastily scribbled handwriting that differed from your usual neat script. She could imagine you rushing to write it just to avoid dealing with her.

It hurt more than she cared to admit. But after what she said to you, who was she to complain?

At this point, it would be a miracle if you still talked to her.

"Good morning, sis!" Emily chirped, her voice echoing through the room as Haley emerged from her room. She sat on the couch, casually knitting what appeared to be another sweatshirt.

Haley's expression was one of mild annoyance as she replied, "It's noon."

"Storm has passed but Caroline canceled, just to be safe," Emily responded, her fingers deftly working the knitting needles as she spoke. "And I know it's noon. Just wanted to emphasize you slept late, little lady."

She glanced around the living room, noting the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, indicating that the day was well underway and the storm had thankfully subsided.

"Why are you here anyway? Don't you have a yoga class to attend to?"

Haley let out a resigned groan, her movements sluggish as she made her way toward the kitchen to avoid further conversation with her sister.

"Just so you know, I saw Y/n/n come out of your room!" Emily called out from the living room, her tone playful yet teasing.

Haley froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the handle of her mug. "Wha—" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her surprise. "Nothing happened!"

"Of course, nothing's going to happen in that state she's in," Emily retorted.

Haley couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that suddenly gripped her at the mention of your state. You're in no condition to go home all by yourself.

"Just tell me you took her home," she pleaded, her tone softening slightly as she returned to the living room.

Thankfully, Emily's too caught up with her work to notice that brief slip-up of vulnerability Haley rarely shows.

"I volunteered actually, but Penny saw us on our way and insisted she could do the job," Emily explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

"And you agreed?!" she sputtered incredulously.

"Of course, I would!" Emily readily defended. "She volunteered!"

Haley's sigh was heavy as she sank down onto the couch next to Emily. "You should have woken me up."

She could feel Emily's eyes settling on her as if trying to decipher what's got her so distressed.

"I tried, but Y/n/n won't let me. Said you needed the sleep," Emily finally answered after a few moments of silence.

"You're unbelievable." Haley couldn't help but massage the bridge of her nose at Emily's casualness about the situation as if seeing a heavily injured farmer waltz out of Haley's room was just a normal occurrence. "I suppose she told you what happened then?"

"Uh-huh. Accident in the mines, right? And she went here instead to the clinic because Harvey would kill her once he saw her state." Emily chuckled, her tone light as if discussing the weather. "He just literally told her last time to take it easy."

Haley blinked in disbelief. "And how do you know this?"

"Everyone knows this, Haley." Emily looked at her as if wondering why she didn't know this piece of information. "It's practically a common thing to see Y/n/n passed out outside in the morning."

Haley's brows furrowed in frustration, her mind racing with thoughts. Of course, she doesn't know this. If she would have known, she would have told you to take it easy. Hell, she'll help with farming if it will make things easier for you. This thing where you pass out and overwork yourself shouldn't be normalized. Actually, if anything—

She stopped herself from this line of thinking because why the hell was she even considering helping out with your farm when she, in fact, hated dirt?

"She also told me how you stepped up and helped her," Emily continued, her voice pulling Haley back to the present moment. She felt Emily's hand pat her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "I saw she's well-cleaned up. I'm proud of you, sis."

Haley forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. I'm not proud of what I did, Em.

*****

Summer 10

The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as Haley sat alone on the shore, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the sand providing a soothing rhythm to her troubled thoughts. She had come here seeking solace, the ocean always offering her a sense of peace in times of distress.

The events yesterday had bothered her more than she had let on. She convinced herself you'd understand why she reacted the way she did but a part of herself thinks she should apologize.

But as stubborn as she is, she instead spent the whole day sulking, which is what she did.

She embraced her knees closer to her chest, fingers brushing the bracelet adorning her wrist. It was her great-grandma's, a delicate piece of jewelry passed down through generations adorned in gold and pearl on the middle part. Her grandmother has given it to her instead of her mom because she'd rather wear luxurious things than some hand-me-down jewelry. But Haley loved them, and it's probably the only piece of jewelry she'd ever wear aside from the shell necklace she was wearing now.

It was a ritual of sorts for her, wearing the bracelet whenever she felt sad and alone. It's as if wearing it made her feel like her grandma was with her at this very moment, comforting her.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize her bracelet had slipped from her wrist. It wasn't until she reached to adjust it that she felt its absence.

"Oh, no..."

With trembling hands, she combed through the sand, her movements growing more frantic with each passing moment. Her eyes scanned the water's edge, fearing the worst as she desperately sought any glimmer of gold amidst the grains of sand.

No, no... impossible. She made sure she was far enough from the water for that specific reason.

An hour passed with no sign of the precious heirloom, and Haley felt tears welling up in her eyes as desperation threatened to consume her. She practically combed the whole beach for it and still no signs of the bracelet.

She couldn't help but slump back to the sand. She's feeling everything too much.

She's such a useless piece of shit. She couldn't even kept an important heirloom. How the hell can she even keep someone like you in her life?

Everyone's right. She's way up high in the clouds that everything she touches crumbles within her fingertips.

The tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and a sob is rising on her throat.

And just before a tear fell from her eyes, a hand shot up and grabbed her by the shoulder.

She looked up and met a pair of gray eyes staring into her own. The grayish color of your eyes is stark and deep and seemed a little bluish from the illumination of the sun. It almost looked like the sky during spring or the ocean seen from a cruising ship as a cold tundra threatened to ruin the quiet solitude of the season. Your eyes telltale thousands of untold stories with every blink, stories too ambiguous, too dark for any of them to understand. Though not dark enough to feed her thoughts of the midnight sea, of storms and drowning.

Calloused fingertips thumbed mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness Haley doesn't think she deserves.

"I'm here," you murmured. "What happened, Haley?"

"I l-lost it," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggled to hold back tears. "My bracelet... it's gone! I know I had it on when I got here... But now it's gone, Y/n and I can't find it anywhere..."

She couldn't help the sob that escaped her as she burrows closer into you. She had probably stained your shirt with expensive make-up and salty tears but she didn't care as she dug her face deeper into your collar bone further and sucks a shaky breath.

"Shh," you soothed, sturdy arms wrapped around her tightened instinctively. "I'll go find it, don't worry."

"I'll never find another one like it..."

"I'm really sorry..." she felt you murmur against her hair. "I'm sure it's just around here somewhere."

"...maybe it'll wash up on another shore," she hiccuped between sobs. "I can't bear to think of it at the bottom of the ocean."

"We'll find it, okay?" you assured her, and Haley swore her heart stopped beating when you planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Stay here. We're not leaving until we find your bracelet."

****

And truth be told you did find it.

After what seemed like an eternity of combing through the sand, Haley's eyes lit up as she spotted the familiar-looking bracelet in your hands.

With a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, you approached her.

"You found it!" she cheered as she run towards you, hopping from the sand and straight to your arms.

You weren't deterred by this and proceeded to secure your arms around her to prevent her from falling.

"Careful there, we don't want to drop it again, do we?" You barked out a laugh but Haley was quick to recognize the grunt of pain in them.

"Yoba, I'm sorry! I forgot you're still wounded!" Haley made a move to let you go but you weren't having any of it. If anything, you hold her tighter. Haley couldn't help but let out a laugh as well as she wrapped her arms around your neck just as firmly. "Thank you so much, Y/n. You're a lifesaver."

"You're welcome," you murmured against her chest. "Here, I'll help you wear it."

You gently set her down, much to her disappointment, and began to fasten the bracelet around her wrist, your actions filled with care and tenderness.

"Thank you, Y/n. Really," she murmured softly. "You're always there whenever I needed you and all you get as a thank you is me being... a bitch to you. I'm sorry."

You frowned. "You're not a... 'b' word. Far from it."

"'B' word,"she scoffed, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips "What are you, twelve?"

"Hey!" you protested in mock indignation. "I can cuss. I just don't want to use it around you. I don't want to get used to it."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. If you keep this kind of consistency around her then Haley's bound to fall hard on her back. And since it's with you, you'd probably made your way to ensure she'll be falling in a pile of pillows and flowers. You're thoughtful like that.

"I'm sorry for giving you that gift yesterday..." you started after a moment of silence. "Let me finish first," you interrupted gently when you saw her mouth open to speak. "I just... prismatic shards are rare to find and I wanted to give it to you because I thought it's something you'd like to photograph."

You took her hand in yours, a tender gesture that made Haley's heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly at the warmth of your touch. The soft morning light bathed the shoreline in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the sand as gentle waves lapped against the shore.

"But then I realized how it may have looked like to you, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"Y/n..."

"So I like to try again." Without further explanation, you strode towards the boat beside Elliot's cabin, your steps confident and purposeful, and produced a bouquet of—wait, are those sunflowers?

"No way!" she sputtered as she tried to fight the grin threatening to spill on her face. You're not supposed to look this dashing walking towards her with a bouquet in hand. It's unfair!

"Yes way." you grinned at her as you handed her the flowers, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope I'm forgiven."

"I'm supposed to be the one saying sorry, you dunce!" Haley playfully slapped your shoulders before accepting them. "They're beautiful, Y/n! These are my absolute favorite! Thank you."

"No worries. And if you're free you can take a look at them at my farm."

"You planted them?" Now that she had mentioned it, it sounded like a stupid question. Of course, you planted them yourself, where else can you get these flowers?

But as usual, being the kind and patient person that you are, you only beamed at her and nodded. "Yep! I planted a whole yard."

"For real?"

"For real," you affirmed, your smile widening at her incredulous expression.

"But why? I mean compared to other crops I'm sure sunflowers aren't that profitable."

You shrugged again, your expression softening. "Eh, I wasn't aiming for the profit. I was aiming for your smile."

****

Previous

Next

A/n: my toes are curling while I wrote this, I hope you felt the same. Anyway, the bouquet of sunflowers isn't the same bouquet that makes Haley your girlfriend. It's just a regular ol' bouquet our farmer has personally crafted because she's a simp for our queen but just too oblivious to see it. Sorry for the delay, I had just finished my clinical recently so I was busy the whole month of April. Hope y'all like this one!

P.S. comments are much appreciated!

THANK YOU FOR 2500 LIKES! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, SERIOUSLY.

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

[zerobaselove]

you're worth it | han yujin

pairing: yujin x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1001

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread!

notes: yujinnnnn!! my little guy ugh he is just so cutie i am so devastated. anyways this was so fun to write as i procrastinate getting ready for work LMAO so i hope y'all like it <3 thank u anon for this idea it was so lovely (i know i didn't go too in depth w the actual sleepover part im SORRYYY)

you didn't consider yourself someone who got nervous particularly easy. especially not when it involved your best friend yujin. everything was easy with him. was. before you had developed a little crush on the boy.

you had done a pretty good job at ignoring the way your heart would speed up when you caught him looking at you, or when your hands brushed when you walked side by side. but you weren't sure if that same ignorance would hold up for tonight, your first sleepover at his place.

it's not a big deal. you repeated in your head. repeating the phrase like a mantra as you approached the door for his dorm. you had met a couple of his roommates in passing but the idea of meeting so many new people definitely didn't help the nerves that bubbled up in your chest.

raising your hand you knocked on the door a few times, the once silent apartment erupted in muffled noises. screams, maybe? you considered, not even having a moment to consider why there would be screaming before the door opened to yujin with a sheepish grin on his face.

you almost didn't notice the swarm of other guys standing in the apartment with wide grins on their faces. some giggling to themselves or whispering, while one you recognized, hanbin, lightly hit them on the arm in an attempt to get them to stop. you couldn't help but giggle at the group of boys, giving them a small wave before greeting yujin.

yujin hadn't realized why you were giggling until he turned around to walk with you into the apartment, letting out a groan, "please just ignore them they're being annoying." he put emphasis on the last word, some of the boys feigning offense, hands over their chests like they had just been betrayed.

"we just wanted to meet your little friend," one said with a wiggle of their eyebrows, "is that so bad?"

yujin let out another huff before reluctantly introducing you to the group. you soon learned the two giggling to each other were gyuvin and gunwook. everyone was so nice and welcoming to you that you immediately felt at ease there. the teasing remarks to yujin also seemed to help as you all laughed together for a bit.

who you remembered to be matthew spoke up as he faced you and yujin, "yujin you're really gonna let them stand there carrying their bags this whole time? not very gentlemanly of you." he shook his head, jokingly wagging his finger as he told him off causing a laugh to leave your chest before you insisted it was okay and that you didn't mind.

"no he's right, you can put your stuff in my room, follow me." yujin smiled shyly, leading you to his bedroom. you both tried to ignore the whistles and whispers from the boys behind you as the door shut behind you both.

yujin sat on his bed with a sigh, "sorry about them, they're a lot." he chuckled. you put your bag at the end of his bed before plopping down next to him.

"don't apologize," you reassured him with a smile, "they're really fun actually, i was more worried if they'd like me or not."

he turned to you with a smile, "oh don't worry, they loved you before you even got here." you let out a relieved sigh before you took a moment to process what he had said, raising an eyebrow.

"yujin," you smirked, holding back a giggle "do you talk about me to them?"

his eyes widened at the accusation, knowing deep down what it implied about his feelings towards you. "well," he brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, "you see," his voice trailed off.

"so that's a yes?" you giggled, placing your hand on his, "don't worry, i think it's cute." as soon as the word cute left your mouth yujin started stuttering some denial as his eyes darted between you and your hand on his.

watching the way his brain started malfunctioning, you knew you were the only chance of this conversation continuing, so you opened your mouth again, feeling more confident now. "i don't know if you know this jinnie," the nickname rolling off your tongue so naturally, "but i like you, a lot."

you watched as he processed your confession, a wide smile spreading across his face. "oh!" he exclaimed, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart, "i uh," his hand squeezed yours lightly, looking for reassurance, "like you too, also a lot." you giggled at the boy in front of you, his smile becoming infectious, soon mirroring his wide grin.

"well good," you smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek, "now let's head back out there before they start getting the wrong idea." you didn't even give him time to think about the small romantic action before you dragged him up and to his door.

what you weren't expecting as you opened the door was the sight of 8 boys toppling over each other. yujin let out a whine at their antics, "were you guys listening to our whole conversation?" he exclaimed, not even that surprised that they would do such a thing.

"pffft no way! we were just,"gyuvin glanced around the hallway, "uhm," his voice lowered to a whisper, "gunwook help me out."

gunwook perked up, straightening out his tshirt, "we were just expecting the door hinges," he said nonchalantly, "one of them has been squeaking and we were trying to see which one it was." he came up with the excuse so quickly and with such confidence that you almost believed him.

you both laughed as you shook your head and walked past the group of boys, making your way to the kitchen, "you might wanna get used to stuff like that, especially since you'll probably be coming over more." yujin smiled as he grabbed your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"don't worry yujin, you're worth it."

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Take Me Home

Summary: After a night out at the bar with your co-workers after a long week at school, Javi picks you up and takes you home

Word Count: 3.2K

Pairing: husband!Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking (girl, you're plastered), allusions to smut, being a drunk, horny mess, mentions of food/eating, being hungover, Javi taking care of you, the Backstreet Boys (?!), just sweet, sweet fluff 😩

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from a sweet anon!! This made me giggle the whole time I was writing it, drunk Osita is my favorite 🤪 You know Javi would absolutely get a kick out of your drunken antics and would take such good care of you and your terrible hangover. Also who doesn't love a drunk Pop-Tart?!

This can be read as a standalone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing you knew, it was that the first few weeks of school were never easy. You were tired, stressed, and feeling like you were running on empty. You were hesitant when some of your new coworkers had suggested all of you head to the bar for Happy Hour on Friday after work, knowing damn well you’d be absolutely exhausted. But after the week you’d had, getting drunk with your teacher friends and commiserating about the chaos that was each of your classrooms couldn’t have sounded like a better way to cap off the craziness that had been the past 5 days. 

You had offered to ask one of your friends for a ride to the bar so Javi could enjoy his Friday night without having to worry about you, but Javi being Javi, had more than happily dropped you off with your friends, and planned to pick you up around 11:30, giving you what you thought was more than enough time to enjoy a few drinks and de-stress with your co-workers. 

4 margaritas and 2 surprise shots of tequila later, it was safe to say the state you were in was a little more than just de-stressed. 

With how much you had to drink, you had found yourself paying absolutely zero attention to any clock, and had completely forgotten that you told Javi you would meet him by the front doors when he came to pick you up. Javi had a sneaking suspicion when he pulled up to the parking lot and you were nowhere to be found, that you were probably having a much better time at the bar, and were a few drinks deeper than you intended. Well, Javi wasn’t wrong to assume that you had downed more than just a couple drinks, but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be absolutely hammered. 

Walking through the door, Javi couldn’t help but smile as he saw your familiar frame leaned against the ledge of the edge of the bar, gently rocking your head and swaying your hips to the muffled music playing under the chatter of the bar patrons. You must have been very focused on ordering whatever it was you wanted from the bartender, because you had been seemingly oblivious to Javi’s presence behind you. He firmly placed his broad hand on the small of your back, pressing his fingertips into your hips, making you immediately whip your head around in concern. 

“Woah, woah, woah, don’t you dare fucking touch me, I am happily married and will glad beat the shit out of- AH! JAVI!” Your demeanor quickly shifted from a woman ready to throw down in a fist fight, to absolutely ecstatic, realizing the hand resting on your back belonged to your husband. Setting your drink down, you threw your arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight hug, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his button down shirt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, I thought you were some creep trying to grab my ass. But you’re not a creep, you’re my hot husband, and you can grab my ass all you want. What time is it? You smell really good.” From your giggles and rambling, Javi could tell you’d had more than your fair share to drink, trying to gently put down the glass you had picked up to take a sip from back down on the bar. 

“Hi, Hermosa. I’m coming to pick you up, remember? Maybe let’s get you a water instead of finishing the rest of this, okay?” Javi smiled, passing your cup off to the bartender, and exchanging it for a new glass filled with water. Handing it off to you, your face scrunched in confusion as you took a long swing. 

“This isn’t a margarita?” You questioned, handing it back to Javi, thinking that he had clearly made a mistake in ordering for you. Laughing, Javi nodded, trying to hand the water back to you. 

“I know, Osita. It’s water, baby. Have a few sips and then I’m gonna take you home, alright?” 

Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave him a little smirk before obliging, taking a few gulps of the water and setting it back down, crossing your arms against your chest. “Did you say you’re trying to take me home, Javier Peña?” 

“Yes, I’m taking you home, you dork.” Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he picked up your coat and your purse from the back of the chair you had been perched next to. “Why don’t you go say goodbye to everyone and make sure no one else needs a ride home, okay?” You nodded, speeding off into the dwindling late night crowd, quickly finding your friends, hugging them and then pointing over at Javi, biting down on your lip, as the rest of them giggled, waving at him as he politely waved back. A few moments later, you found Javi again, stumbling through the bar, grabbing a fist full of his button up shirt, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him a long, tender kiss. 

“Take me home, baby.” 

After your 3rd trip to the bar bathroom and your self pep-talk in the mirror earlier, you knew you were drunk, but you hadn’t realized just how drunk you were until you found yourself trying to crawl your way into Javi’s truck, the passenger’s seat seeming much higher up than usual as you took several missed steps trying to hoist yourself into the car. 

“You want help, hermosa?” Javi tried to keep his best from laughing as he watched you struggle. 

“....Maybe. Jav, I think I’m actually really drunk. Or the seat got higher. I think it would be less embarrassing if the truck grew. Or maybe I shrunk… Drunk and shrunk, those rhyme, Jav!” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking up at Javi’s car in frustration. 

“I think you and the truck are both the same size, baby. Here… 1, 2, 3.” He smiled, grabbing you around your hips, lifting you into your seat, reaching over to click your seatbelt in before making his way to the driver’s side, strapping himself in and starting up the car. As Javi pulled out of the parking lot, you reached down to turn up the volume on the radio, turning it up even louder when you heard it was “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” by the Backstreet Boys. Even in your plastered state, you knew how much Javi despised this song, claiming he’d heard it enough times to last him a thousand lifetimes. You, on the other hand, thought it was catchy as hell, even more so now that you were drunk. 

“I don’t understand how you don’t like this song! You yelled over the music, dancing in your seat, singing along to the lyrics. 

“Am I original?” 

You pointed at Javi, waiting for him to sing along to the “yeah’s”, frowning when all he did was laugh at you, 

“Am I the only one?” 

You pointed at him again, this time getting a half assed “yeah” out of him as you poked at his shoulder. 

“Am I sexual?” 

You outstretched your arm towards him, raising an eyebrow and biting down on your lip as you smirked, watching Javi reluctantly sing along to the last “yeah”, shaking his head, laughing at you. 

“Am I everything you need, you better rock your body now- EVERYBODYYYYYY!” You screamed, pumping your fist in the air, pretending to sing into your imaginary microphone, Javi trying to keep from bursting into hysterics from your over dramatic performance. You paused mid chorus, looking over to see him lovingly laughing at you, making you give him your most sarcastic stank face. “Are you laughing at me, Javier Jesús Peña? Are you not enjoying your concert?” 

“Osita,” He grinned, reaching down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, “there’s nothing I love more than watching you sing along to whatever song it is while we drive. It’s my favorite thing. Even if you’re fucking ridiculous sometimes.”

“Nuh uh, you’re the ridiculous one, Jav. Ridiculously fucking hot. Do you like, ever look in the mirror and just admire how attractive you are? All the girls at work think so, too. They told me when I was leaving tonight that I was a lucky lady and you know what I told them? Bitch, absolutely I am. My husband is so fucking hot and sweet and perfect and to top it all off, he’s got a huge dick. Wait, maybe I didn’t say that last part to them… If I did, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry, ‘cause it’s true.” Javi practically choked on his own spit, his quiet laughter to himself halted by your last comment. 

“Well, you’re very sweet, Osita. I hope for everyone’s sake you spared them the last part.” Javi laughed, giving your hand a little squeeze as you rested your head on his shoulder across the center console. 

“I’m being serious, Javi! It really isn’t fair to everyone else how fucking handsome you are. Or that like, you’re fucking sex god. Can we have sex when we get home? Please please please?” You begged, trying to give him your best drunken puppy dog eyes and pouty lip, Javi gently patting your leg knowing you were in absolutely no state to do anything besides get force fed some Gatorade and ibuprofen and go to sleep. 

“I think that we need to get you into bed, baby. Maybe tomorrow, okay?” 

“Into the bed where we have awesome sex all the time.” You retorted, shooting him a clumsy wink, pointing your finger at him. “Except this morning when we had sex in the bed and the shower. The shower is also a good place for sex. Do you remember when we had sex this morning?” You giggled, rubbing your hand over Javi’s thigh, working your way further up the denim before Javi reached down, placing your hand back in his, pulling it away. 

“Yes, Osita, of course I remember. Tonight we’re just gonna get into the bed and sleep.” Javi chuckled, smiling at you with your bright red cheeks, still dancing in your seat to whatever song was playing on the radio as he turned to pull into the driveway of your house. 

“Oh my gosh, we’re already home?! That was so fast. Let’s go to bed so we can sleep.” You gave Javi an overexaggerated wink as you parked in the garage, fumbling with the door handle to try and get out of the truck. Wanting to make sure you didn’t topple out of the passenger seat, Javi quickly unbuckled his seat belt, walking around to your side of the car, helping you down. You shot off to the door, fighting with the locked doorknob to try and get it open, instantly turning to panic when you realize it wouldn’t budge. “Jav! Jav! I forgot to bring my keys with me, I think we’re locked out of the house, I’m so- Oh. Nevermind.” Javi came up behind you, dangling his keys before reaching down to unlock the door. You stumbled through the mudroom and down the hallway, your eyes lighting up as you realized you were passing the kitchen. Trying to dart your way towards the pantry, you forgot that you had kicked off your shoes only a few moments earlier, making you slip and stumble on the hardwood floor, promptly landing you right on your ass. 

“Jesus Hermosa, are you okay?” Javi rushed over, eyes wide with concern as he watched you tumble, trying to pick you up from the hysterical heap you had fallen into. 

“I forgot I had socks on and I slipped. I’m such a fucking idiot, oh my god, that had to have looked so funny. My butt is gonna hurt tomorrow.” You cackled, hoisting your body up as Javi pulled you to stand, holding his hands firm on your hips, making sure you were stable. 

“Alright, c’mon Osita, we’re almost to bed.” 

“Wait, wait, I want Pop-Tart though! That’s why I was running to the kitchen!” You protested, Javi grabbing you to stop you before you tried to run full force down the hallway and slip again. 

“I will get you a Pop-Tart, you just get yourself into bed, okay? I’ll be there in a second.” Javi pleaded with you, trying to direct you back down the hallway towards the bedroom, hoping you would go and he wouldn’t have to wrangle you any further. 

“You promise?” You frowned, poking Javi’s chest, standing your ground until you were positive you were getting a Pop-Tart before you fell asleep. Javi leaned down, planting a soft kiss in your hair, brushing a stray piece  away from your face, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Yes, I promise.” 

That was all it took to have you dancing down the hallway towards the bedroom, back to singing to yourself with each step. 

“Everyboddyyyyy, rock your booooddyyy. Rock your body right. Back Street’s back, alright!”  

Finally seeing you had made your way into your room, Javi made his way to the kitchen, shuffling through the pantry to grab a shiny silver Pop-Tart wrapper, a red Gatorade and a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet before quickly heading back down the hall, your singing now muffled as Javi found you laying face down in the bed, still fully clothed. Javi wasn’t going to let you fall asleep in jeans and a sweater, so he carefully flipped you over, making you giggle as he began to unbutton your pants, shuffling them down your legs. 

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex tonight, so why are you undressing me, hmmm?” You sassed, wiggling your bottom half to help Javi get your jeans off before he grabbed your arms, pulling you up to sit and prompting you to lift up your arms, stripping you of your top. “Are you trying to look at my boobs? I want a piece of Pop-Tart before you get a free show.” 

“I’m just trying to get you in pajamas, baby. I’m not gonna let you fall asleep in what you wore to the bar. How about this, if you can get yourself in some pajamas, I’ll give you your Pop-Tart.” Javi chuckled, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous compromise he was finding himself making with his drunken wife. 

“You strike a hard bargain, Mr. Peña. Fine, I will put on pajamas. Only because I love you very, very, very, very, very much. And I really want that Pop-Tart.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as Javi threw you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, haphazardly trying to wrestle them onto your body before flopping back down on the bed. “Okay, they’re on! Pop-Tart me, bitch.” 

“Did you just say Pop-Tart me, bitch?” Javi snorted, looking at you, sprawled out like a starfish, his shirt draped over your body backwards.

“Pop-Tart me, bitch. Please.” You replied, smugly nodding your head, pointing finger guns at him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute. I’m gonna go close up the house and then I’ll be back in bed. I love you, Osita.” Javi grinned, planting a kiss on your forehead, gently brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I love you too, Javi. My Pop-Tart and my pussy are both ready for you when you get back.” You giggled, reaching over to grab the shiny, silver snack package Javi had left for you on your nightstand, now grabbing it like a microphone as you sang into it. “Back Street’s back, alrightttttt!” 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi laughed, shaking his head as he gave you one last kiss before making his way back out of the bedroom, leaving you happily humming as you nibbled on the corner of your Pop-Tart, propped up on your stack of pillows. It didn’t take long for Javi to close up around the house, making sure to grab an extra package of Pop-Tarts and a big glass of water from the kitchen on his way back. “How’s the Pop-Tart, Osita?” Javi asked, gently closing the door behind him. 

Silence. 

“Osita?” He asked again, this time turning around to see that your singing and giggles had come to an end as you were passed out cold, sprawled out on top of the covers, Pop-Tart resting on your chest, rising and falling slowly with your soft snores. Javi laughed to himself, carefully taking the Pop-Tart off your chest and lifting you up to tuck you in under the covers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Ducles sueños, Osita. Te amo mucho, loca (Sweet dreams, little bear. I love you so much, crazy.)

The next morning, you could hear yourself audibly groan as you turned over in the bed, shielding yourself from the sunlight peeking through the cracks in your curtain, head pounding from the brightness. You rubbed your eyes, squinting as you looked over at your nightstand to see the red letters of your alarm clock reading “10:37 A.M.” and the shiny glare of an opened Pop-Tart package, covered by a blue sticky note. You twisted over, realizing that Javi’s side of the bed was empty, before turning back with a grunt, reaching over to grab the sticky note. 

Morning Osita. There’s Advil and Gatorade for you when you wake up. I think you may need it. I’ll have breakfast for you whenever you get up, unless you just want the Pop-Tart. 

Love you 

-J 

Slowly, you hoisted yourself up, grabbing the Gatorade and pills Javi and left for you, popping them in your mouth, followed by a big swig of your drink, running both your hands over your face before letting out a deep sigh and sliding out of bed. You trudged down the hallway, rubbing your hand on your hip to ease the bruising pain you had felt since getting out of bed, greeted by the smell of breakfast in the kitchen, and Javi sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, sipping on a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Javi chuckled, peeking over the top of his newspaper as he watched you as you stumbled your way into one of the empty kitchen chairs next to him at the table. 

 “I feel like shit.” You groaned, propping your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. Javi set down his paper, draping his arm over your back, tracing small circles with his thumb along your still backwards shirt as he planted a soft kiss in your messy, sleepy hair. 

“You were pretty drunk last night, Osita. Did you see the note I left for you?” Javi laughed quietly, shaking his head as he continued to rub your back. You turned your head over, looking up at Javi’s sympathetic gaze, scrunching your face as you let out a deep sigh. 

“Yes thank you, oh my god, that Gatorade and Advil is gonna save my life. Why the hell was there a Pop-Tart on my nightstand?” You mumbled, reaching over to steal a sip of Javi’s coffee, accidentally letting a little dribble fall down onto your shirt, you were just now realizing it wasn't on right. “Wait, is my shirt backwards? My ass hurts like hell too, what the hell happened last night?” 

“Why don’t I get you some breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns@blackfemalenerd @deppydelta

[carmillascrusade]

Together and alone | Agatha Harkness x F!Reader

Summary: Agatha summons you, her rival, for help as she founds herself powerless and cursed by a demon. (Angst with no happy ending, so sorry. I’m happy to a part to post-road to explore the lovers part more though anon just lmk!)

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Finally getting through requests. I’ve unfortunately caught the plague (the flu) and now a terrible curse (stomach bug) has been cast upon me. Also this is set just before they go to the road.

A summoning by none other than Agatha Harkness was something that you were not expecting to happen. Yet here you stood, frazzled and disorientated, in her basement. She watched you carefully, like one would watch a wild animal, a teenage boy stood to her right grinning and bouncing ever so slightly in excitement. A young warlock you assumed as you gazed at him. 

“Agatha,” you started, walking out of the pentagon drawn on the floor. “And companion…”

“Hi, I’m-”

“My pet.” Agatha cut him off with urgency, smiling at you as if she had been caught red-handed. You hummed at her softly, eyes raking over her form before falling on the boy once more.

The boy, or pet, started speaking once more. His voice laced with an ardent curiosity. “I know you! Agatha, you didn’t tell me we were summoning her!” he whined, but Agatha just shrugged him off with a grumble.

Your magick thrummed through you, hot and searing, itching to be used. The sight of her, of Agatha, after all of these years was infuriating. How dare she summon you? After everything she has done. Your fingers glowed a dull white before fading entirely… runes. Well, you supposed you had to give her kudos for her preparation. Although you were not liking the idea of being trapped powerless with her in her domain. 

“Pet…” you addressed him softly. “Show me to the kitchen? I am famished.”

Agatha’s sound of disapproval made you grin. There was something different about her that you couldn’t place; she was meeker, less confident than the witch you knew. Perhaps speaking to the boy was a mistake on your end, because he would not stop asking you questions. Thankfully, though, you made it to the kitchen and he busied himself with making you something to eat.

You could feel her lingering behind you, her presence still as suffocating as it had been all those years ago. It was clear now, what was different about her, she was powerless. Why you were summoned though was the real question. 

“So…” you started, turning to face where she leaned on the counter. “How did the wonderful, all powerful Agatha Harkness end up without magick?” 

Her response was an unintelligible mumble before she waltzed out of the kitchen with her usual flourish and a flick of her wrist. You smiled, ever so softly, at her antics before turning your attention back to the boy. “What is your name, pet?”

You watch in great interest as a signal appears over the boys mouth, indistinctive initials etched into his skin. Surprise flashed in your eyes before you schooled your expression into something more pleasant to the young boy.

“I see… and how old might you be?”

“Sixteen.” he replies instantaneously, rocking back and forth on his feet whilst looking at you.

“Interesting. And you are with Agatha because?” you questioned, wearily eating the soggy omelette he had prepared you. 

He seemed to tense at your question, his tone laced with defensiveness as he replied. “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s the greatest witch on this continent and I intend to learn from her.”

“Yes, well dark magick seems to fit your theme…” you mumble. The pure conviction in his tone warned you from pushing further. Besides, even if you did, he probably would not give you the answers you sought.

You grumbled beneath your breath as Agatha lured you and Teen (she had told you to refer to him as such) into the forest. Was she about to murder you? Probably. But alas, you had power and she had none, so you weren’t really all too worried.

She abruptly came to a stop, huffing as you walked straight into her back. A Quick Look around you notified you of where exactly you were. A hidden clearing deep in the forest. The clandestine area was stunning; dark autumnal leaves littered the floor while bioluminescent fungi glowed lightly on the overgrown bark of the trees. The trees themselves were long and spindly, twisting into ghastly shapes the closer they got to touching the skyline. 

Agatha tugged you over to a stone plaque in the centre, gesturing sheepishly at the carvings. You crouched down to view them, squinting softly due to the dim light. Agatha’s name was etched into the stone pillar, followed by a symbol no witch dared to think about, let alone carve.

“Agatha…” you gasped. “How did this happen?”

She mumbled an ‘I dunno’ and shrugged it off as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. But it was. It was a massive deal. You groaned, running your fingers through your hair as you processed just what exactly she had roped you into. 

“So, I’m guessing I am meant to protect you?”

She grinned at you albeit awkwardly and you let out a humorous laugh, cutting through the silence of the clearing. Teen looked between the two of you with a mix of anxiety and curiosity. “And why should I help you?!” you sneered. How dare she ask you for help after everything she had done. 

“Please…” she was on the edge of begging, a hint of vulnerability marring her features in her desperation. “I don’t have anybody else.”

You snatch your hand away from her grip, scoffing as you stumble back. “That’s rich. Where were you when I needed you, Agatha? Rival or not, you turned me away when I needed you most. Why shouldn’t I do the same to you?!”

Her pursed lips were the only answer you needed. With an exhausted sigh you shook your head and walked away, deeper into the woods. Cried cawed cautiously as you passed them, beady eyes staring at you in curiosity. The familiar sensed it magick pricked your fingertips, begging to be released, but you ignored it. 

You haven't felt this out of control in years. Not since… well, not since Agatha had left you there. 

That night was still as vivid as ever, never truly leaving the forefront of your mind. You and Agatha had always been rivals and you must admit that it was a fun, friendly competition at first. Who could advance faster in magick? Who could gather the most power? Although for you it was more than a simple rivalry. Agatha gave you life, you lived and breathed for her, and in return what did she give you?

It was quiet that day. You were perched on the riverbank, watching the frogs as they hopped across the stream. The gentle ebb and flow of the water threaded through the small pebbles and leaves obstructing its path. Agatha had lent you one of her books on plant, allowing you to prepare for the upcoming trial on herbal magick. However, the day soon turned sour.Dark clouds gathered above you, loud booms announcing their arrival as a violent storm brewed. Evanora, the leader of your coven and Agatha’s mother, approached with a grim expression. A few of her subordinates trailed wordlessly behind her- Agatha included. 

They had accused you of practising dark magick, having found a book in your bed chambers. A book you knew belonged to Agatha. You had looked at her then, eyes wide and pleasing, silencing asking her to help you. Yet she did nothing. You shook your head at her in disbelief, dodging Evanora’s attempts at grabbing you before teleporting out of her grasp and away from the coven you once called home. 

You hadn’t realised you were crying until Teen offered you a tissue, effectively startling you out of the memory. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.” you mumble, swiftly wiping the tears from your eyes with the offered tissue. 

He sat down beside you, his gaze looking to the sky in silence. “What happened between you two?” 

You chuckled softly, harsh compared to the quiet whistling of the wind. “Agatha did what she does best- betray the witches around her.”

You puff out a breath as he goes completely silent. “Do you know what she’s gotten herself into?” you ask quietly. 

“Uhm, not really. No.” he replies meekly. 

“That symbol carved below her name is of an infamous cambion. This specific one is known to brutally hunt and kill witches, due to it being spawned from a puritan. Agatha is next on the list to be hunted.” you explained gently, trying not to frighten him too much. 

“What?! Well you have to help her! Please! You’re going to help her right?”

A beat of silence passed. Then another. 

“Yes… I cannot leave her to face this demon alone. I just- can’t.” 

Okay so maybe agreeing to fight a demon on Agatha behalf was really a terrible decision on your part. Your chest rose and fell in quick succession, the armour you had donned not allowing as much air into your lungs as you would have hoped. Your hands shook with exertion, the weight of the sword causing your tense muscles to ache more than you thought possible. 

The cambion stood before you, wings extended and a wicked grin plastered on its face. Agatha had been knocked out cold a while ago; you should have known she was too stubborn to merely watch. Teen was hovering over her, so you weren’t too worried.  With a soft breath, you focussed your mind, letting your magick guide you as you poured your energy into killing this beast once and for all. 

Your sword thrummed with energy, the metal pulsating with power. Time seemed to slow as you approached the demon for the final time. Your magick highlighted its weakest point and in an instant you had hit all of them, causing the cambion to burst into a raging inferno of flames. 

A soft sob wracked your body, forcing you to your knees in an attempt to process what had just happened. You had killed the demon. Agatha was safe… 

Agatha. 

You stumbled over to her limp form. Your hands reached out to cradle her head between your sweaty, blood soaked palms. “Agatha?” you whispered, shaking her softly. “Come on, Agatha. Wake up. You can’t leave me. Not when I’ve just got you back…”

Teen noticed the desperation in your tone and smiled sadly at you. “Don’t look at me like that!” you snapped. You didn’t need his pity. You needed him to help you. 

Time ticked on, each second stretching on for eternity as you watched her. You couldn’t breathe. Each breath was caught in the back of your throat, aching for release but not having the will to escape.  

A pale hand grasped your wrist. “Would you stop talking? I have a headache..” she grumbled. 

You and Teen looked at one another in shock, then back down to her. “You- you stupid idiot! What did I tell you about staying back?!” you shouted, jostling her head a bit which caused her to groan. 

“And let you have all the glory? Pffft.” she mumbled back, eyes searching for your own. If her hands were grasping you just a bit tighter than usual you didn’t notice. 

Your eye twitched at the nerve of this woman. “You-“

“I’ve missed you.” she blurted, effectively cutting you off from your rant. 

“I- what?”

“I’ve missed you.” she repeated softly. “I’ve missed you for decades, ever since you disappeared that day.” 

“Right. And whose fault was that exactly?” you mumbled bitterly. 

Your gaze avoided her own lest she see the tears clouding your vision. Her thumb brushed over your pulse point soothingly. Back and forward. Forward and back. She was all you ever wanted and more… so why couldn’t you just give in to her?

“I’m sorry, y’know. For not protecting you that day.”

The sincerity with which she said it was all it took for you to break down. You hugged her, pulling her as close as possible while you cried. Hot tears stained the pristine white neck of her shirt. Your sadness is palpable, filling the room with the despair you had clutched onto for centuries. 

“I loved you… and you threw me to the wolves. Blamed me for something I didn’t do.” you cried. 

“I know…” 

It was a simple enough reply and you knew it was all you would get. She had apologised enough for one night, or maybe even a lifetime. You looked at her then, her face blurry from your tears. With a shaky exhale, you brushed your thumbs over her mouth before leaning in to capture her lips in a soft kiss. 

She kissed you back instantaneously, although the way she claimed your lips was hungry- all consuming. As if she was trying to merge your being with her own. 

You pulled away just as fast as you had leaned in. “I can’t do this, Agatha. Not when I know you’re going to leave again.” The admission was barely audible, layered with helplessness. 

“Fine. Be like that.” she snapped, pulling away from you in favour of dusting off her clothing. You stayed sat there, sword by your side as you stared at the ground unblinking. She barely spared you a glance when she left and you couldn’t help but feel like you have made the wrong decision. But you knew it had to happen because Agatha would never love anyone more than she loved power.

Not even you.  

[sitp-recs]

hi! please feel free to delete this! but i read through your rec list (and found some amazing fics, ty!!) but i was wondering if you had any recs for fics where harry is helped by draco after the war? like he’s struggling with PTSD and being a public figure and going through it emotionally and draco takes care of him and helps him and they become closer for it and harry learns he doesn’t always have to be this Savior he can just be Harry with Draco! thank you in advance and sorry to bother you!

Not a bother at all, anon! I definitely have some recs for you. Some are set in the immediate post-war, some are set years later but they all explore Harry struggling with war/childhood trauma, fame, loneliness and the unbearable weight of having to find your way when no one else is telling you what to do anymore. Such a relatable feeling tbh. I hope you enjoy these!

Unseen by astolat (M, 11k)

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

Holly and Hawthorn, Thistle and Thyme by bryoneybrynn (T, 31k)

After the war, Harry can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong with him and he has a terrible feeling he knows what that “something” might be. He has a terrible feeling Malfoy might know, too.

Expecto Patronum by @writcraft (E, 35k)

As Draco Malfoy negotiates his feelings for the wizarding world's brightest star, he becomes increasingly attached to Harry and unravels the secrets he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil (E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

Unseen by RenVeree (T, 47k)

Harry Potter finally has the chance to leave England and its expectations for The Chosen One behind for good. All he has to do is survive one Auror training conference overseas with Draco Sodding Malfoy.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

The Way Down by lettered (T, 65k)

Harry is overwhelmed by his own power and fame and angst, so he's become a hermit. Draco Malfoy is tired of the melodrama.

Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding (E, 71k)

Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (E, 100k)

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost.

A Sword Laid Aside by korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

where all the veins meet by @saxamophone (E, 146k)

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

[pastel-peach-writes]

Caitvi with a cocky yet easily flustered s/o?!!

wow, am i the s/o? how did you get this photo of me? COMING RIGHT UP ANON! also, i feel like this would be easier with headcanons so, i hope you don't mind!

Wipe The Smirk Off Your Face | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Headcanons of Caitlyn and Vi with a cocky, yet easily flustered s/o. mostly how Caitlyn and Vi react to the cockiness and what they do to fluster their partner even more.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Lower Case Intended, Headcanons, SFW, Reader's A Bit Full Of Themselves But CaitVi Loves It, Not Proofread

– Caitlyn and Vi can be cocky themselves. It's more Vi than Caitlyn, Caitlyn likes to believe she's confident, not cocky. Vi will tell you straight up she's cocky.

– anyways. the girls know how you get.

– you tease them about something they've done or you claim that you're the best at what you do. sometimes, it's just your personality too. it's an ego thing, but it's more like you're trying to convince yourself than others.

– an example of this is when you reported to Caitlyn for the first time after being recruited for a journalist job. you put the article on her desk, 5 hours before it was due which was an accomplishment for you, and grinned.

"read it and weep, captain." caitlyn rose a brow at your choice of words but took hold of the file. she scanned through the article and nodded. "i know, it's good right?" you sigh happily. proud, you put your hands on your waist. "i say it's one of my best works and i preformatted it for the journal so the editor doesn't even have to worry about it." impressed, caitlyn stands from her desk. she takes off her top hat as she walks to you. "i have to admit, recruit, this is your best work. i thought your portfolio had all your best work, but i was clearly mistaken. good job." she leans back on her desk and crosses her feet at the ankle. as she stares into your eyes, you cheeks warm up. you can only pray there was no change in your appearance. you clear your throat, nodding at her. "yes, uh- thank you. i appreciate it." in a swift move, you leave her office. caitlyn's perplexed at your sudden change in attitude, but she brushed it off. she continued to read your file.

– since you two weren't together during that, caitlyn didn't think anything of it. maybe you were overwhelmed by your boss complimenting you. unluckily for you, it didn't go that smoothly with Vi.

jumping off from a mild ledge, you dust your hands off with a proud smile. "i told you that you needed my help. without me, you would've never seen that guy sneak that eggbeater into his pockets." a soft chuckle escaped from vi's lips. "yeah, I'll admit it. i didn't see that guy but i don't understand the threat behind an eggbeater. that's the kind of shit stuffy bakers use." you shrug. you hold up the eggbeater. the beater is well-kept and freshly polished and the golden material shines in the dim light. "this gold is worth a pretty penny. i should know. i handle golden material all the time." you grin up at vi. she chuckles again. "oh, what would i do without that beautiful, knowledgeable, brain of yours, huh?" she nudges your shoulder with a confident smirk. again, you stammer over your words. you fidget with the eggbeater before you look away. vi tilts her head, her smirk growing from confident to cocky; a known slippery slope. with her hands crossed over her chest, vi matches her eye line with yours. "I'm sorry, what was that? did you say something?" her words are like oxygen to a flame. the squirms and shudders travel up and through your spine. flutters erupt in your stomach and your heartbeat fastens. you say nothing in return. your silence is music to vi's ears. she grabs your chin and turns your face to her. her grin is shit-eating, her touch is warm, and her feelings are calloused. "you know," her voice is low, her words smooth. "you shouldn't talk a big talk when you can't handle someone agreeing with you. someone might take advantage of it." she winks.

– after the three of you got together, vi wouldn't call flustering you taking advantage of you. she would call it, "giving her partner affection"

– picture this, it's an early morning and vi is absolutely dreading getting ready. caitlyn has already scolded her about the consequences of being late for work, but vi gets scolded often so she tuned caitlyn out.

– you're already up, morning person or not, and getting ready for the day. you claim it's easy for you to get ready because you're absolutely perfect and the world can't revolve without you.

– from the sheets, vi turns her head. her face is half-smushed into the pillow. she tells you that you're right. you are perfect but you're wrong about one thing. there's no world to revolve around you because you are the world. her world.

– from the bathroom connected to the room, caitlyn groans. unfortunately for you, the corny line works, and your cheeks warm up. vi teases you again, taking your silence as another answer.

– sometimes, when your cockiness reaches an all-time high, caitlyn and vi share glances, nod, and then boom, you get a compliment attack.

– if you identify as a girl, they'll agree with you using gendered nicknames such as: "you're so right, pretty girl." "i agree. you're the most amazing girl in the world." "that's my girl."

– if you don't identify as a girl, they compliment you in other ways. "i knew you could do it. you're perfect." "that's right, baby. you are the best." "oh, really? you knew that? you're so smart."

– and lastly, if compliments aren't your thing, they'll fluster you in different ways.

– caitlyn likes to drag her nails up and down your back while placing kisses right underneath your earlobe. why are you squirming? you said you were the best of the best, right? she's giving the best of the best celebratory kisses. what's wrong with that?

– meanwhile, vi is more "subtle" when she's trying to fluster you. okay, maybe not exactly subtle, but it's vi-subtle. she knows she can be direct and flirtatious to get you flustered too, but she loves watching you muster up the courage to reply back to her.

– when you say something cocky, she'll lean on any surface she can and raise a brow. she'll always reply with a simple, "oh, yeah?" then, she'll lean down or reach up to your height. if you're taller, hands are on your waist. if you're shorter, she puts her hands on the side of your neck. either way, she scans your eyes with a smirk.

– that move alone sends you spiraling and you want to melt out of her grip. as most of her flirts do, she ends it with a wink and then walks away.

– don't get me started on the nsfw parts of this... but I'll leave that to y'alls imagination. bye~

WC: 1,096

A/N: IM STILL TAKING REQUESTS FOR CAITVI. ALSO, IF YOU SPECIFY IF YOU WANT A ONESHOT OR HEADCANONS, THAT'LL HELP A LOT! THANK YA <3

[back2bluesidex]

Enchanted - KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

Theme: Angst with a happy ending, exes to lovers au.

Request:

HIII i want to make a request for the TS song drabble game Can you do Namjoon x Enchanted the genre maybe angst? fluffiest Its one of my favs ..this idea came to mind while remembering the lyrics.. what if Namjoon lost his memory and reader was a museum crying staring at Nam´s favorite works and then they meet and maybe they fall in love again.. leaving an open ending if he ever got his memory back or not. or maybe he did! whatever you want is fine :)

Song: Enchanted

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: Major character accident, partial amnesia, angst, pining, crying, suffering, reader gets called a bad luck.

Minors and Karens Are Not Allowed in this Blog!!

A/N: A huge thanks to you, anon, for offering this brilliant idea. I changed the storyline a bit so that it fits within a drabble length and I hope you like it.

also, a very happy birthday to our best boy Kim Namjoon. I hope he is happy and healthy just as he deserves to be.

"What are you doing here?"

"eomeoni, I- I"

"Didn't I tell you to keep your distance from now on? Didn't you ruin enough?" 

"Please.. I will - I want to see him once. Please. I promise I won’t even step near. I will just take a look. Please eomeoni?"

"No! You - You are bad luck. Look what you did to my poor son. He was rushing to see you just because you fainted and look who's laying on the death bed now!"

"eomeoni.."

"Stop calling me that! You are no one to me! you are no no one to Namjoon. Leave right away or I'll have to report you." 

The conversion reels in your head as you stare at the man from afar. 

It's been a year since that dreadful night, the worst night of your life. It's been a year since you last saw him, heard his voice, until today. 

Your heart rips apart seeing him standing so gracefully with practiced elegance. Nothing has changed. He still looks the same. It feels as if it was just yesterday when he took you to the art fair and bought you that handmade clay-framed mirror. 

But you know things are far from being so simple, if anything then everything is much more complicated than ever. 

While you still stay awake each night, spending a fair share of time shedding tears for him, he doesn't even recall your name. He doesn't remember who you are, what you sound like, how your touches feel, or the time you two shared being so in love. 

You had vanished from his life long ago, vanished from his memories leaving absolutely no traces behind. 

He forgot you, even if you know he never intended to, even if you know it was a cruel decision of fate, he still forgot you and you can't change a thing about that. 

Silent tears fall from your eyes as you stare at him. Only you know how much you want to run to him, hold him tightly in your arms and tell him that you have waited for him, tell him that you have never stopped loving him, tell him that you love him more than anyone ever can. But you can’t.

And even if you do all these, what will be Namjoon’s reaction? He will just shove you to the ground thinking you are a crazy woman trying to throw herself at him. So you decided to leave. Meeting him unexpectedly here in the gallery should be more than enough for you. You can’t ask for more. You have no right to ask for more. 

You turn your heels to leave but you hear a faint voice calling you from behind. 

"Excuse me.." it's his voice. It's Namjoon. 

You start to panic. Contemplating whether you should run away or give in, you stay planted at your own place. 

"Hey. Um.. I am sorry to bother you but I- uh saw you staring at my direction and you seemed to be really familiar.. So, do we know each other?" Namjoon's voice is unsure and filled with confusion.

Your heart breaks. You know you should have not expected him to remember you but his confession still makes you weak on your knees. 

Blinking several times and gathering some strength, you turn around and face him. 

He's just as handsome as he used to be, if not more. 

Seeing you silent, Namjoon clarifies, "Sorry if I seem weird with my questions. I actually got into an accident last year and lost some of my memories. So I tend to ask people who they are if someone seems familiar to me. And you.." he pauses, his eyes raking through your face as if he's trying to find a clue "you seem to be someone very close to me." 

"I- I think you got the wrong idea. I mean - I, no, we.. we knew each other through some common friends but weren't exactly close." Your words fumble over each other much more than you would like. 

"oh- sorry then." A sheepish smile takes over Namjoon's face. 

His dimples make you sick and you want to run away from him. 

"I gotta go-"

"May I know your name?" 

You two speak out at the same time.

"Y/N. It's Y/N." You say hurriedly. 

"Yeah... Y/N" Namjoon whispers. 

You don't know if you're imagining things or not, but a flash of sadness passes through Namjoon's features. 

"I don't wanna sound like a creep but-" he hesitates.. "I would love to have a cup of coffee with you." 

"I am so sorry but I kinda have to go." You reply with your heart breaking into a thousand pieces all over again.

"oh.. then, can I at least have your number? Please?" Namjoon pleas. His voice quivers a bit or maybe you're just hearing things. 

You don't know what you should do. You don't know why life is playing these games with you. You don't know where this will go but what you know for sure is that you're enchanted to meet Namjoon again. So you give in and take another chance. 

"Sure." You murmur. 

Namjoon pulls out his phone from his pocket, unlocks it and gives it to you. 

As soon as you take his phone in your hands, your world starts to spin, eyes start to blur, hands start to shake because it's you. It's your picture saved as his wallpaper, the one from the art fair, under cherry blossom, wearing the same hoodie Namjoon is wearing right now. 

When you look up at him you find that his dark eyes are full to the brim with tears, which may start falling anytime. He looks as broken as you do.  

"The story line didn't end there, Y/N. It was the very first page. And... And I was enchanted to meet you. I would do anything to meet you again." 

"You- y-you remember me?" your words get choked.

"How could I not? You are deep-rooted in my heart. My brain may have forgotten a period of time but heart kept on trying to make me remember you. And it was successful." Namjoon smiles through tears, so do you.

"I hope you are not in love with someone else, you don't have someone waiting on you." he whispers, stepping close to your body.

"No- I don't." you reply, taking a step towards him.

Namjoon comes closer, cups your face and connects your forehead with his as you two intertwine your lives again standing in the middle of the gallery.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

i know you will have a lot of messages about liam's death and won't presume i will be the first or last place you hear about it, but wanted to send a personal note to you specifically.

i followed you on and off when i was in the thick of my 1d fandom. i often do not agree with you as i do not believe many things you do. (but one reason why i appreciate your perspective is that i do think you would endorse me having my own opinions and interrogating those opinions regardless of what someone on the internet says.)

i haven't been on your blog in years. (i got a job i like in public service, and it keeps me busy, so only occasionally do i think about 1d.)

when i saw what happened to liam (who was, for a very long time, my favourite member) i found myself typing in your name.

this morning (my time, a few hours ago), i had spoken at length to my friends about my feelings that i had put so much time and care behind an abuser. (i am a survivor of dv, so that makes it even more painful.)

i also talked about my guilt over still feeling defensive about some aspects of liam's life (particularly the way he was piled on when he was just a little stupid or made jokes people didn't want to understand). i felt guilty for clinging to a belief that he was a good person who experienced addiction and mental health issues and that his story is tragic in so many ways.

(i will never forget how he spoke about drinking excessively for his boss photoshoot, the one where he was in his underwear. that, to me, will always be emblematic of how desperate he was and how sick.)

i'm rambling from the grief, but i thought you would help me make sense of this, and it didn't take much scrolling through a search for liam on your blog for me to find the post about abusers not being cackling evil masterminds.

i think it's really going to help me work through everything i feel. multiple stages and kinds of grief. so i thank you for still being here when so many already left, and i hope you are well, even though i know so many of us are not.

Thanks so much for this anon. It's so lovely that you let me know that you thought of me and shared your thoughts. It's awesome that you like your job and I'm really sorry for the guilt you experienced.

I really appreciate hearing your complex feelings - it helps me make sense of my own.

I had tried to answer honestly when anons had asked me how I was responding to Liam once Maya had described how I treated him. But I'm realising that there was a lot going on that I hadn't really processed. When I talked and thought about my response - I focused on what I was doing - how I was posting what I reblogged and not really my feelings.

I had so much affection for Liam - after Harry and Louis he was the one I responded to the most. The way he would just say things was charming, hilarious, and terrifying at different times (it's where my URL comes from). He was so transparent about wanting to follow the rules and wanting to make everyone happy - and hated when they were impossible individually and also conflicted. And I responded to that both as an observer and as someone else who had that very human reaction (I've been wondering if people who mention his desire to make people happy in their statements are intending to draw the connection between that need and the distress he felt.). My 'Oh Lima' tag - I think reflects the combination of responses I had to him.

That affection withstood a lot. There aren't many people who said they were voting Boris Johnson in the 2019 UK election - where my response was anything but life long range. But what he said was so absurd - and so compatible with the other ridiculous political statements he'd made - all I did is move him down on the list of objectively worst members of 1D and keep tagging things 'Oh Lima'.

I wasn't naieve. I knew there was a high risk that he was hurting people, particularly women he was having sex with. I've said as much at various points. I knew that there's a risk with any men, particularly touring musicians, and particularly people whose coping mechanisms for their distress are destructive.

So I wasn't surprised when Maya described how she'd been treated. I stopped allowing to respond publicly to Liam in that mode. But that didn't resolve or change how I felt. Years of affection, built up through empathy, just sat alongside the knowledge about what he'd done. I think that was a fine response - I had other priorities this year than resolve what I thought about Liam Payne. I think part of my inability to articulate anything immediately after his death was because existing tension.

It's really natural to feel guilty - but I hope you feel like you don't need to. I didn't feel guilty about my reaction to some of the pile ons about Liam. I hated the way that people felt righteous about making fun of everything he did. It matters if someone chases their girlfriend with an axe - it doesn't matter if someone does cringey dancing at the concert - and treating those as the same is incredibly trivialising with violence. I thought the response to him on Logan Paul's podcast was all about people pretending their desire to make fun of people was righteous.

His story was tragic. I knew one of the things that I was observing and responding to was Liam's distress. But that didn't make it easy to reconcile my what I'd seen, and his responses to distress that he'd hidden until recently. Learning to hold the line about the harm people do, and process our connections to them and understanding of their humanity - is an ongoing process for all of us.

I think it's really normal for our response to this to be multi-staged. What it brings up will be different for everyone. I'm still trying to understand what it means for me (I've realised since his death that wanting to keep everyone happy and follow the rules is causing a lot of my stress at work. And I probably identified with Liam more than I knew). I'm so glad you found my tumblr in this moment and that it was useful.

Everything you say here sounds very wise. It is a process. It's OK.

[loveephia]

Anon that asked this here, I am SORRY FOR ASKING THAT I GUESS I DIDNT FULL CHECK THE TW'S... But can you do headcannons for kuroo x fem reader that's the manager for another team? Shinzen maybe, and they met at the training camp

Take your time!

kuroo with a small crush on shinzen's manager.

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, a speck of angst, kuroo trying to get your attention, you're doing your manager duties like a good person would, bokuto being a dense sweetheart.

⚠ warning/s: none.

note: NOOO DW ABOUT IT!! WHEN YOU SENT ME THAT QUESTION, I DECIDED TO ADD IT TO MY "NO'S" FOR FUTURE REFRENCES. THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST!! :DD i'm so sorry that this is late. 😭😭😭

you both met when you were first years from the summer camp held two years ago.

kuroo is undeniably a pro at hiding his little crush on you, but he becomes more of a show-off when you're around. 😭

like, y'know how he's athletic, intelligent, and handsome all in one? yeah. he knows he's all that.

now that you're both third years, when he sees you at the summer camp again, he feels more on edge.

because this is his last chance of ever seeing you again unless both of your schools make it to nationals.

he wants to confess to you as soon as possible, but with all the busyness ahead, it's almost unlikely for him to be given an opening.

almost.

when you both meet at the entrance, you give him a small bow of recognition and walk right by him.

and oh my gosh have you gotten cuter??

KUROO IS READY TO RISK IT ALL FOR YOU BC BRO'S GOT THAT DESPERATE RIZZ!! LMFOAO

in the evening, you're about to go to the girl's bathroom to brush your teeth, when you notice kuroo getting out of a classroom too (a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste in one hand, and a plastic cup in the other).

since you're both headed the same way (the male and female bathrooms are near each other), you decide to talk to him so that it wouldn't be awkward.

"hello, kuroo. how's the summer camp been treating you so far?" you ask.

kuroo stutters in his step since he didn't notice you. "oh— it's been a bit hellish since bokuto keeps bothering me for practice,"

and kuroo doesn't know why, but he felt a little bolder than usual, "but i don't mind, since i get to see you afterward."

this brought a peachy blush onto your cute cheeks. what a smooth talker he is..

"a- ah.. really?" you ask, a bit flustered as you weren't expecting him to flirt with you.

kuroo nods with no shame as he makes his way over to you. "gonna brush your teeth, too?" he asks, and this time, it's your turn to nod. "mhm. i need to make my smile as pearly as possible."

"i've always liked your smile." kuroo admits as your blush deepens. "you're flattering me, kuroo." you hide the creeping smile behind a hand to kuroo's dismay.

he gently brings your hand down to see the beautiful smile he oh, so, loved.

and you let him. because there's something about kuroo that's just so—

"LET'S ALL PLAY MARIOKART! I WANNA BE PRINCESS PEACH BECAUSE SHE'S COOL— oh." bokuto's exclaims are quickly cut off by the sight of you and kuroo in the middle of the hallway, looking like you were almost about to kiss.

"woah, i didn't know you two were a thing!" bokuto quickly jumps to conclusions as you try (emphasis on the try) to tell him that he has it all wrong, your frantic arms waving back and forth. "n- no! it's not like that!"

it's hard to sway bokuto otherwise when your face is as red as apples right now.

kuroo finds it amusing since he didn't know he had such an effect on you. how cute!

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[tokoyamisstuff]

Pistanthrophobia

(n.) the fear of trusting people due to past experiences

Mark Hoffman x GN! Reader

A/N: This request has been sitting in my drafts for 2 years or so, I am terribly sorry😭but kinda iconic that anon predicted the plot of SAW X

Synopsis: While John and Amanda travel to Mexico, Reader and Mark are being left behind.

Warnings: Cussing, (unspecific) mentions of intercourse, alcohol, mental breakdown, unhealthy coping mechanisms, toxic dynamics, mentions of choking, power imbalance, slight d/s elements -> all mostly mentioned, nothing graphic

Notes: Apprentice! Reader, Nurse! Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, No use of Y/N or other names

"So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude Words, they always win, but I know I'll lose And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love But all my tears have been used up"

- Another Love by Tom Odell

"I hate you so fucking much..."

Your words were met with nothing but a derogatory laugh, Hoffman's dark voice almost tauntingly echoing through the room.

Unbothered by your remark, he calmly readjusted his pants before subtly winking at you.

"Don't hate the player - hate the game" he chuckled arrogantly, relishing in the knowledge that he was once again victorious in that little cat and mouse game the two of you were playing.

There was no denying it: Hoffman would always end up having the upper hand, this much was sure.

But oh, how much you wanted to wipe that shiteating grin from his face right now!

Slowly but steadily even the last effects of your orgasm ceased in your body, instantly being replaced with unbearable shame.

As always.

You'd love to say this was a one-time occasion, but every argument with your fellow apprentice would ultimately end up this way - with you being slammed on the next best surface, that is. Getting fucked into utter submission until you'd be reduced to a moaning and stuttering mess, begging him for more.

And mind you, but the two of you fought a lot.

You furrowed your brows at the man, a failed attempt to regain at least a fraction of your dignity. Hoffman however found your pathetic resistance rather endearing, shamelessly indulging in the sight of your ruined self.

Straightening your clothes, you intended to escape this scene as fast as possible - but after a deed this...intense, it was doomed to fail.

So as soon as you jumped from the cold working table, your legs gave up...

...just to instantly being caught in the arms of the man you so desperately wanted to get away from.

"Careful there" he mocked, and yet his breath on your ear was enough to make you shiver once again. "You might wanna take it easy after what I did to you."

"Fuck off!" you managed to regain some composure and snapped back, shoving him away and leaving as far as your still weakened legs could manage.

"Little brat" he grumbled under his breath, only to then fix his tie and continue working as if nothing ever happened. "If you want to come back for more, you know where to find me!"

The words he called after you were left unheard as you paced through the narrow hallways, trying to avoid anyone else to see you like this - runny makeup, ruined hair, the front of your shirt torn apart, skin covered in bruises.

Gladly you would cross paths with neither John nor Amanda during the walk-of-shame to your room. Not that this little 'hate-fuck-workplace-affair' - or whatever one might call it - wasn't obvious, you just couldn't bear another lecture right now.

The water in your current hideout - another run down facility - was cold and made you grateful to be vaccinated against tetanus, but it would suffice.

At least this time you actually had running water, right? A vigilantee with a secret double life shouldn't really complain about missing luxury.

You quickly got undressed and scrubbed off the black oily fingerprints Mark had left on your chest and thighs, while dwelling in self pity...

...because even though you'd rather drop dead than to admit it, you sadly enjoyed those encounters with Hoffman way too much.

And damn, that asshole was amazing when it came to making you come undone.

Couldn't even blame him for acting all high and mighty around you when you'd become wax in his hands as soon as his lips crash over yours in the heat of the moment.

Each and every. Single. Time.

Admittedly, he is handsome. Very much so, and aware of that fact in the worst way possible. Tall, more intelligent than he looked for sure. Strong and dominant - no, downright rude was more fitting.

And while usually rather the quiet type, Hoffman was very vocal about his opinion of you.

The detective thought you to not belong here, to be dull and naive - a nuisance whose mere presence managed to irritate him beyond belief.

After all, you were a mere nurse before this - on the very same station that John Kramer was once a patient on. And someone like him was aware of everything.

So it was only a matter of time until he found out you listened to some of your terminally ill patient's pleads and assisted them with their suicide. Much to his disapproval, needn't be said.

Just like Mark, you had no other choice but to join in Jigsaws schemes - yet opposite to him, you actually looked up to your blackmailer.

"Kindness is a virtue - but given to the wrong people, it can become a weakness" John once scolded you, after having interrupted a rather indecent moment between you and Hoffman.

As if you had ever been kind to him. Well, in the beginning, maybe. But he blocked every attempt to get along, and now you just mirror the way he treats you.

As the last drop of machine oil went down the drain, you couldn't help but mentally wander back to earlier - Mark roughly pounding into you, holding your struggling self in place as he once again reminded you that this was exactly where you belonged - beneath him.

Shit, you have a horrible taste in men.

Mabye you just hated yourself for allowing him to manhandle you like this, using you like some sort of toy to let out some steam on...

...or maybe you hated the fact that you still felt this odd attraction to him, despite everything.

"Did it again, huh?"

Amanda's appearance broke your reminiscing, and you stared her down as she was smugly leaning against the doorframe. God knows how long she had been back already, but with no actual doors privacy was a foreign word in here anyway.

"Please" you groaned, not bothering to dry yourself properly and instead quickly getting dressed again. "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know I'll implode if I can't at least voice my disgust for this cheap excuse of a man." Despite the initial atmosphere, both of you broke out into bright laughter at her comment.

"Seriously" she now added with a more concerned and serious tone, gently grabbing both of your shoulders so you'd properly listen. "Even John begins to think Hoffman's beyond help. Instead of listening to John's teachings, he only got a taste for blood. Who knows what happens when he snaps."

For a sheer second, your face dropped at her statement.

What did she mean with "beyond help"?

Sure, he was the epitome of toxic masculinity and a different kind of insane than the rest of you, but he gets the job done without question...

...and somehow you wanted to believe that he had preserved at least a last bit of humanity, buried deep inside of him.

A taste of blood? Certainly. But more as means of self preservance, maybe out of a twisted sense of justice too.

Soon Amanda would take over John's work and the rest of you could be active from the shadows. You couldn't imagine him continuing this afterwards, neither did you.

"Well" you crossed your arms in a defensive manner, "Tell him to keep it in his pants and I might be able to resist climbing this man like a jungle gym."

"Gross."

Gladly Amanda dropped the topic for now, practically tearing you to the main hall for some kind of 'murder staff meeting'.

You couldn't bear to see his fucking face again, but hey, that's what you get for fucking the company.

John and Mark were already waiting, and the latter immediately scowled upon seeing your fellow apprentice.

Well, if there's one person he despised even more than you it must be her - and she was an actual rival to him and not just a pastime and easy target.

"Late as always" Mark spat venom at her, "Can't expect any less from an addict and a good-for-nothing."

Ouch.

"What's with the grimace, dumbass?" she sneered right back and earned a nudge to the side from yourself. You had no nerve for this right now, especially not in front of your mentor.

Instead of biding Amanda another look, he now turned towards you with a mischievous grin on his face. "Got nothing sassy to say today, sweetheart?"

"Nope." You tried avoiding his gaze, only to be met with John's sympathetic one. "Not in the mood."

"Huh" he almost cackled at his own joke before he even said it, "You were 'in the mood' just a few minutes ago. But hey, that's the only thing you're good for."

Amanda was practicall boiling with rage by now, ready to throw hands to defend your honor. What a wonderful friend indeed...

...but all of you knew that while she surpassed him in skill with ease, he was a literal beast when it came to physical strenght.

"I liked your mouth more when it was duct-taped" you finally snapped back at the man, more to hold Amanda back than anything else. "Or even better, with the shotgun draped right in front of it. Might make that mandatory, so you'll finally think before you speak."

"Try me" he answered calm yet not less menacing, a cocky smirk decorating his face as he approached you until you were basically trapped between him and the wall. "Or do you need me to fuck that attitude right out of you again?"

"Enough already!" John then exclaimed, and immediately the room was coated with an uncomfortable silence, strained even. "You're not here to be so distasteful in my presence. Did you learn nothing at all?"

Couldn't he have intervened earlier?

Well, knowing him he probably wanted to observe whether you took his lecture to heart.

God, you couldn't help but wish to disappear right on spot...

You looked down in shame while Mark would only scoff and back away like a feral dog being tugged on it's leash, finally giving you space to breathe again.

"I called you here because Amanda and I will have to leave earlier than anticipated" John had ended the earlier topic just like that, by dropping this huge information. "Tomorrow night, to be precize."

"Only the two of you?" Mark groaned exaggerated at your question, as if the answer was the most obvious thing to figure out.

"You and the detective need to keep your civil identities upright. The preparations will take longer than anticipated, so it would be suspicious if you were to miss work for such a long period of time"

You nodded, only a little bashful at first but it worsened as John once again directed his words at you. "Did you bring the anesthesia and surgical instruments I requested of you?"

"N-not enough" you tried to explain, a little taken aback. "I thought there was more time. If I steal too much at once, my coworkers will find out..."

"It's alright" Amanda interrupted you, putting a reassuring hand on your back. "I know some people, I can get the missing rest."

Hoffman's laugh was everything but subtle, and more than enough to tell what he was thinking - that you were useless and replacable.

Maybe he was right. But you were never voluntarily a part of this in the first place!

"Both of you have envelopes with assignments on your desk, you need to get this done until my return. This is not a request, it's an order."

All of you voiced your approval, like mindless soldiers who were about to fight the war of others.

"Oh, and detective?" John then turned to look at Hoffman, raising a warning finger. "I know what you're about to do in my absence, and I'll warn you only this once: Don't."

It had been hours since John and Amanda's departure and you couldn't help but repeat this last sentence in your mind over and over again.

Those dreading questions were robbing the sleep you so desperately needed in case you'd have to actuall defend yourself.

What did he mean by that? What intentions or plans would a man like Mark Hoffman have? He seemed like a man with no real aspirations, aside from his position at work he was basically an empty shell of a human being.

You never really thought about it until now, gulping at the thought: Even the serial killer they called Jigsaw, the puppet mastermind admitted he could not control this man.

You've seen the brutality of Mark's traps first hand, the way he treated - no, abused - unconscious victims before their tests.

Compared to the rest of you he was the real homicidal maniac, or at least had the potential to become shall he fall even further astray from his path.

You got the sentiment, though. Knew it yourself - what it's like to have nothing and no one, leading a shallow and empty life.

It was apparent how tired he had grown of this corrupt city, of not being able to bring upon real justice. He had been known for his violent tendencies and immoral methods even before crossing paths with John Kramer...

...and now that he was so deep in those games, it seems there was simply no going back for him now. At least as long as there's still apprentices alive that might snitch his secrets.

You once called him "Jigsaw's Monster" to push his buttons - but to be perfectly honest, you were scared you had hit the bull's eye.

And now they had left you alone with exactly this monster.

He is definetly going to kill you...or worse.

You shuddered at the thought, then laughed at your own imagination running wild. John certainly let a lot slip with both Amanda and Mark, even death traps with no real way to win.

But John had insisted that you were to cater to his needs shall his health deteriorate. So he needed you. He would never let Mark get rid of you just like that, right?

Right?

Well, that's some motivation to get the job done and prove yourself worthy you thought, but life got other plans..

...since just when you were about to leave the hideout for your beloved apartment, the last person you wanted to see right now had magically appeared.

No wonder you thought, since both of you had taken paid time off work for several days, back when you thought you'd accompany John to Mexico.

Either way you were frozen in shock, like a deer in front of a lion. Hoffman was just standing there, staring at you wide-eyed from the dark hallway.

Exhaling deeply, you tried to become reasonable again. Dang, you were behaving ridiculous right now.

That's just Hoffman. A terrible person, but still a person and not some kind of abomination.

"Gosh" you chuckled nervously, pacing around the room to collect some blueprints. "Can't you be normal for once? At least knock or announce yourself."

No answer.

"What now? Wanna insult me again, call me a disgrace or worse? C'mon, I've had it all with you. And hey, John didn't take you with him either so don't get me started on that topic."

Still no reaction from the man, except for him entering the room all mutely, stating holes into your skill.

He was staggering, but seemingly not injured. So drunk it must be. A shame, considering he had been sober ever since he met John.

"D-Detective? You there? Did you hear me?" His sheer presence alone could be intimidating at times, but this was downright creepy.

Slowly coming closer, like so many times the proximity between you became too much to bear. But not with annoying banter or sexual tension like usual.

It was different this time, worse.

A million thoughts at once spiraled in your head.

Should you make a run for it? Nah, he's faster anyway and it would only wear you down.

Fight? Haha, nope. Maybe seduce him and hope for the best? Gosh, pathetic.

Before you even realized, you were cornered once again. Mark built himself up, towering over you like a beast in front of his prey. Then he slammed both of his hands on either side of your head, making you jump.

You were trapped. He harshly tugged on your hair, forcing you to look at his devastated self. Squinting your eyes open, your whole body was shaking violently as you glanced up to the man.

Mark was panting heavily, his breath strongly smelling of liquor. Eyes bordering on a dangerous mixture of hurt and pure madness.

God, he was actually going to murder you.

You felt a hand on your throat, one last desperate attempt of his to ward off those feelings. To remain the one in control over the situation...

...and yet, in the end his lips would meet yours.

Detective Hoffman had kissed you many times before. Always rough, sloppy, demanding. Taking what he needed without ever giving back.

But this...this was new.

It felt almost genuine, with his gloved hand now securely holding the back of your neck in place. Unusually tender as his shaky lips laid on yours, careful like you were a fragile piece of art that could easily be tainted or shatter.

It felt like an eternity, until his lips softly brushed alongside the skin of your cheek before completely pulling back, finally allowing you to breathe again.

You were almost temptated to kiss him back, but were still too confused and afraid, sucking in fresh air and staring at him dumbfounded.

"Hoffman, what the-"

Before you could finish your question, the man pulled you into a bonecrushing embrace.

With your ear against his thorso, you could hear the way his heart was practically hammering against his chest. Much to your surprise he was shaking as well, and you could've sworn to perceive some strangled sobs as well.

"Hey, big guy..." Trapped in his muscular arms you couldn't move an inch, no matter how you tried to writhe yourself out. "This isn't much better than the choking. You're squeezing me here, seriously."

Instead of a proper reaction, you felt him press your much smaller body even firmer against his own, desperate to not let you see him this vulnerable...

...however when you felt something wetten the top of your head you understood.

He was crying. Mark fucking Hoffman, the most menacing and cold person was currently bawling his eyes out.

"Mark?" You had never called him by his first name until now, but it felt right at the moment. "What's wrong? Can I help you somehow? Talk to me..."

That was the last straw.

Not even Hoffman himself knew why he came to you of all people in this state of being...

...but all things aside, you were the only person he could call a constant pleasure in his life - even when he was actively making yours worse in the process.

After everything he's said and done, you should be the last person on earth to care. He had expected you to laugh, spit insults his way, maybe even lash out at him. He deserved it all and way worse...

...yet here you are, offering him your support.

Mark broke down, falling on his knees and weeping openly as he was now unable to hold back anymore.

Or maybe it was because your presence made him feel safe enough to open up, who knows.

"Heya there..." you shushed him, hesistantly sinking down to the floor in front of him. "It's okay. Let it all out."

All of your suspicion, all of your grudges had been shoved back into your head at that moment.

Eery person deserved a second chance - that was one of John's lessions you wholeheartedly wanted to believe in.

Well, sadly just like Jigsaws traps, healing always involved hurt in the process.

"I'm here, Mark. I'm not going anywhere."

And you kept your word, keeping him company as long as needed.

It took you some time and convincing, but eventually you got this drunk and utterly exhausted mess of a man into your bed. Staying by his side, with him clinging to you as if you were his lifeline.

However he never spoke a word that night...

...and when you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

You found him not much later, slouched on a run down sofa at Jigsaw's workshop and drinking his hangover away.

Geeze, this guy is incorrigible.

"You look awful" you greeted him, looking at the clock just to see that it was only 9am.

"Yeah no shit sherlock" he croaked back, voice still hoarse from crying before. "Want a job at my department with your great observation skills?"

"Depends" you snickered, "Do I get a promotion for turning you in?"

There, at the corner of his mouth, his lips were twitching into an almost-smile. He let out an amused huff, before taking another sip from the cheap liquor. "Touché."

"So..." you plummeted down on the other end of the sofa, enough distance to not be uncomfortable for either of you. "Want to talk about it?"

Hoffman leaned forwards, a slouched position that made him appear so much less intimidating than he could be at times. "Rather not."

He looked so sad and tired, or rather tired of being sad.

You almost felt pity for him, but would never dare to say that aloud. He didn't seem like the type of person to take people caring for him positively.

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" Hoffman almost cackled at your choice of wording, making you roll your eyes. "You're making this way too easy sometimes. "

This playful banter made you wonder why it couldn't always be like this - just exchanging some silly jabs, instead of getting at each other's throat whenever you'd meet.

"C'mon, stay focused." You now had both hands at your hips, trying to make an authorative impression. "I seriously thought you came to kill me last night. I think I deserve to know what's going on."

"Kill you?" That seemingly catched him off guard, as he rose a surprised, almost offended eyebrow at you. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"I-I don't know, I...we're all alone, I'm defenseless without the others." A little embarassed at your paranoia, you fondled with your fingers in your lap. "You loathe me, and you've killed people for less."

Your mind went back and forth to his colleagues who he killed in cold blood. People he worked with for so many years, probably went through so much together...

...until he slaughtered them in inhumane ways, without so much as feeling remorse.

"Ah damn it, yesterday was the death day of my sister, okay? You happy now?" He gritted, and suddenly you felt a tidal wave of guilt hit you head first.

How could you not have thought about this?!?

"John didn't want me to relapse with the alcohol" he added, "That's what he meant. But here we are."

This said, he took another sip. And then one more, and another...

In a fit of rage, he threw the empty bottle across the room where it scattered into pieces. As he pulled out another one from his secret storage, you tried to snatch it out of his hand - but his reaction was surprisingly unaffected.

You wanted to drown your embarassment just as much as he did his grief. "We've exchanged all kinds of bodily fluids, a shared bottle won't do any harm."

"...weirdo" he mumbled, hiccuping before involuntarily giving you the bottle.

"Takes one to know one" you shrugged and almost emptied it in one go, ignoring both the burning in your mouth and your companion's pleas to take it easy.

While you continued getting to his niveau of intoxication, Mark seemed to be buried deeply in thought, brows knitted together as he tried to find the courage for the following words.

Sighing deeply, looking anywhere but your eyes, he almost mutely uttered "...and I don't hate you."

"Huh?" You blinked frantically, trying to process what he had just said.

"I don't hate you" he repeated his confession, now firmly and with a stern expression as he scanned your face for a reaction.

"Well, your words and actions certainly don't match." Your mind was alread fogged by the alcohol, and you began to wonder how he could even sit upright with that much running through his system. Well, was certainly not the first time he numbed out his feelings like this.

Not wanting to push him too much, you shuffled closer until your legs would touch. Mark had his face buried in his hands, and you timidly reached out to pat his shoulder...

...only for him to catch your wrist, making you yelp in pain.

Seeing your startled expression, his wild eyes softened immediately, letting go off of you again. "Sorry...bad habit."

"Oh, so you do know how to apologize" you nervously giggled as you rubbed your sore wrist, detecting a glint of self-loathing in his eyes you knew just too well.

Being filled with so much pent up anger and hatred, you thought them to be the only emotions Mark Hoffman was still capable to feel.

Seems like you couldn't have been more wrong.

But it was easier this way, easier to endure his neverending abuse when you imagined him to be some kind of dangerous sociopath and not a mere broken hero.

"Listen, Detective-"

"Just Mark is okay. We're way beyond that."

"Okay...Mark." You gave him a pained yet hopeful smile, and much to your surprise he'd mirror it - not even minding when you cupped his way taller hand with yours. "I'm gonna be blunt: Supressing your emotions won't make them disappear. This is obviously eating you up from the inside, and I'm...worried."

Every sympathetic word of yours made his heart clench.

It was one thing to help a lost soul as a matter of exception, just like yesterday's emergency, but after everything you witnessed not running away, and instead of using it against him still determined to help him?

Why are you making it so damn hard for him to stay away for your own good?

"...I really was right. You don't belong here" he chuckled sadly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand without even noticing it himself. "You're kind. You deserve better."

Mark's intention had always been to scare you away, make sure you won't continue or even associate yourself with Jigsaw's work after his death.

That's why he manipulated the traps you made, took all tasks from you and led you to believe you were not fit for the job - just so your hands stayed free from blood.

At least you should be free from all of this. One person he could help, but to him it'd mean the world.

"I don't like to get attached" he blurted out, licking his dry lips. "It hurts less."

And yet he couldn't resist the temptation, the bliss that he felt whenever he could have you close, if only temporarily.

Even though he wasn't a man of many words, you understood everything - the unspoken ones as well.

Out of a whim, you straddled his waist, intensely staring at the man in front of you.

Now at last, you saw him in a whole different light.

It wouldn't redeem anything, but understanding his behavior might pave a way for him to make up for what he's done.

Mark's eyes widened in shock when you cupped his face in your hands, his subtle beard tickling the skin of your palms. But soon you felt his hands roaming your body, holding you firmly in place and observing you like you were a myth yet to unfold.

He says something, mutely, but the way he looked at you with sheer admiration gave away his thoughts.

Your touch would not falter, instead your eyes dropped to get stuck on his mouth whose taste you knew inside and out.

A weak "Please..." escaped his throat, almost whining at the sensation of your lips only ghosting across his.

In this moment neither the games nor the past would matter...

...and as soon as your lips met, you knew whatever would happen, together you will figure out the future as well.

[7ndipity]

"Je t'aime"

Taehyung x Reader

Summary: Three times Taehyung almost says 'I love you', and one time when he finally does. Part of the 'things I learned in Paris' drabble series

Warnings: none, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this, I'm glad someone else is as obsessed with this concept as I am. I'm in a v soft mood today, so this is nothing but tooth-rotting fluff. (je t'aime means 'I love you' in French)

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Him insisting on mini photo shoots everywhere you visited, from cute couple selfies to elaborate attempts to recreate scenes from some of your favorite films.

"How about over here?" You asked, moving to pose under one of the flowering trees, glancing up to see him staring at you with a strangely distant look in his eyes. "Tae?"

"Yeah! Sorry." He said quickly, your voice shaking him out of his trance, snapping several pictures.

"You okay?" You asked, bemused.

"Yeah, just thinking." He assured you, giving you a small smile. I think I'm in love with you. "Let's try over there."

Late night walks where you're sharing more than you normally would, partially because of the wine from dinner, and because it's easier to open up when you don't have to meet his piercing gaze.

"Can you not stare at me like that?" You groaned suddenly, hiding your face in your hands when you noticed him studying you carefully as you were telling your story.

"Why?" He asked, not moving his gaze from you.

"Your eyes are too strong."

"What?!" He laughed, completely baffled.

"When you look at me like that, it's like you can see everything, right down to the little icky bits, and I don't know if I like that." You tried to explain. "It's weird having someone see all of you."

He chuckled. "I like seeing all of you though."

'I love all of you.'

"Je t'aime." He mumbled as the two of you were wandering through the second art museum of the day.

You look up in surprise at his sudden statement.

"What?" You said a little louder than you intended, wincing as your voice echoed faintly through the gallery around you.

He gestured behind you. "That's the name of this piece, 'Je t'aime'."

"Oh." You said, glancing away quickly to the painting while trying to fight the growing heat in your face, not noticing the way he grinned at you.

'I do, though.'

Sitting on the balcony of your hotel room that night, watching the lights of the city twinkle, he couldn't help the confession finally slipping past his lips, as he looked down at you asleep next to him.

"I love you." He whispered, watching your eyelids flutter as you dreamed. "Like real, head over heels, butterflies in my stomach, in love with you."

"It scares me a little bit, but I think that's okay." He said, speaking even softer as you shifted closer in your sleep. "I really love you."

"Mmm, me too." You mumbled, barely audible against his chest.

He didn't know if you actually heard any of what he said, but your answer still caused a massive smile to spread across his face.

He'd tell you again in the morning, and probably every other chance he could find for the rest of his life, if you'd have him.

"I love you."

[deathstrokewilson]

OOC: Hi all, Roleplayer behind JJ and Slade here. (mentally insert Zuko meme if you so choose)

I'm feeling a bit calmer now. I was quite hurt by that anon from last night.

To explain my reaction, for anyone who is confused, I am a person. I'm sitting here on my computer or phone to have fun and write stories with others, the same as everyone else here. This is my first time trying to RP on Tumblr, and for some of you it may be your first time trying to RP at all. To which I say, I'm so glad you are! Genuinely, roleplay is a great way to make friends and to explore all sorts of stories and themes safely and supportively.

Additionally, this is my first time writing Slade. I never expected so many people to enjoy my writing, and listen, I love that he's so generally terrible, and that I seem to write him well enough that you want to rally against him, that you love to hate him, that you send love to the Dick who's agreed to be Slade's Renegade. It's sweet. It's intense. But it's supposed to be fun.

Whoever did send that anon may have just been caught up in the intensity of having Slade seem like such a big threat, and wanted to try and ding his ego, or something to that effect. I don't know their intent. But as a person writing for both my enjoyment and yours, it was like a punch to the face. It was incredibly hurtful, since firstly, I don't think I've written him that way, and secondly, that just… isn't something you send. It's a serious thing to say or imply, it can be easily twisted out of context, and shouldn't be slung around. I would also like to state that I have checked in several times with people who are either directly part of the story or were emotionally affected by it to make sure they were all right to continue. I know it's an intense character, an intense storyline. I genuinely don't want people feeling uncomfortable or scared. I want people to enjoy what I make, like any creative, in a safe and healthy way. And I also want to be happy and comfortable.

So there's that.

As such, I want to offer something to you all- a poll. I am asking you all to consider the options carefully and genuinely, and vote honestly. Please, please be honest. Because I won't be dealing with that sort of thing again. A large part of roleplay is considering both the characters and the people behind them, and how your writing can affect them. I never expected Slade to be more than a brief thing, and thanks to everyone's interactions that grew and changed. I did appreciate it, and at least up until that anon, it was fun. I would like it to be fun again. This is also to either subdue or confirm my anxiety, so I'm sorry if this seems dramatic, but it will help me. So, let's vote.

1. I continue to roleplay as Slade, the storyline that has been started continues. I request if you are not comfortable with him and this choice wins, you unfollow for your own comfort.

2. I set Slade on the high shelf for an undetermined amount of time. The storyline is cut off, blogs that were more personally involved return to more normal posting if they so choose. Until more people can learn to separate the fiction from the person behind, no more big bad villain to hate. I will only RP JJ, or other non-villainous characters.

3. I stop roleplaying here on Tumblr entirely. If for whatever reason you think I shouldn't be roleplaying here at all, and this vote wins, I'll stop. No more Slade, no more JJ, no more of my ideas. I'll also request that if you don't want me around you at all, you DM @littlefaefeather with the blogs you want me to block or unfollow.

I do intend to take this day as an RP-lite day for my own sake, but if there's anything you really want to RP or include Slade or JJ or my Robin blog in, you can still @ them for it, I'll be checking in every so often. Thanks for reading all this. 🧡💛💚💙💜

[according2thelore]

ohhhhh man now you’ve got me brooding over es!sam. it never occurred to me before that among them, he would end up feeling always the square peg in a round hole. the pride and resilience and hope he carried like medals in the first seasons gave him a sense of value and esteem, and i can’t imagine how it feels to be thrown into this inevitability where none of himself remains and in fact the bits he tries to hold onto are an irritant to the quid pro quo in a way nobody will outright honestly explain to him. rather than saving himself and his brother and the world like he thought he would at the end of it all, everywhere he looks is just another form of loss. ls!boys would lap up his es brother, the eager (and adorably naive) hunter with ideas and brawn and something to prove, so much of the same flowing through the blood of all 3 of them, but imagine the grief es!sam feels walking through the cold echoing hallways of the bunker, everything just a nauseating maelstrom of weapons and lore books and charts, no john, no mary, no jess, no wives and no children, no living friends, no presence or interest in the world he always dreamed to blend into, and nobody at his side to truly understand or feel that grief with him. and on top of that the things he feels about dean, complex and ugly and heavy to hold, have somehow been tugged out of him into the open in the future and locked behind a door he has no key to and even touching the knob burns his hand - the derision/amusement of the ls!bros even if they don’t intend it as such, the constant knowing smiles like he isn’t THEM like they don’t know how it feels and how much it suffocates him ohhhh man look what you’ve done to my poor heart with these snippets

YES!!!! ANON!!! YOU GET IT!!!!

first off, your writing is gorgeous?? holy shit?? eating all of your words they are in my mouth now i am sorry

but YES

he would def feel like the odd man out (depending on the season ES!Sam is from) because the other three love the life. they find joy and purpose and meaning in the hunt in a way sam lost. the hunt is a tool. a means to an end.

i think it wouldn't take long for LS!Sam to see the bunker, with the dozens of empty rooms--the shell of a home, only echoes and blades and the collected sum total of knowledge of people long-dead--and ask the group, "is this fucking it?"

no one knows what he's talking about (ES!Dean is so excited because he gets a kickass bunker AND a garage AND an armory AND sammy forever??), but sam is shaking because there are shirts folded in some of the empty rooms' dressers. dead men who thought they'd come back, a physical reminder of every goddamn person they've lost in the endless quest for vengeance. everything sam left for.

"is this all i fucking get?" ES!Sam snaps. "an underground crypt? no wife. no kids. no job. no fucking friends? did the hunt really fucking bury us?"

and everyone goes deadly fucking silent. LS!Dean has to leave the room because it's everything he'd always feared LS!Sam thinks. sam has always needed others more than dean does (or at least, that's what dean thinks, we literally see contradictory evidence in the show but okay). LS!Dean's afraid that sam has always resented him for the way their lives ended up, for dragging sam down with him.

and ES!Dean is crushed because this is his dream. he gets to save lives. he gets to carry dad's legacy. he gets to keep sam, all the unnecessary fluff--a mission to keep them together, girls, obligations--removed. and sam is disgusted by it.

LS!Sam just stares at ES!Sam blankly. he's annoyed with him, before something smaller, something pitying, slips into the shape of his mouth. he gets up to follow LS!Dean, leaving ES!Sam to wallow in his own sick. in this moment, Sam can't even empathize with himself.

and ES!Sam is sitting in the blast radius of his own fury. no one will look him in the eye. LS!Dean looks sick before he leaves the table. no one will answer his questions. no one even tries.

LS!Sam keeps trying to say, "this is what i want, sam. i don't mind. i love what i do, and i love doing it with dean." and all sam can hear is i gave up. i couldn't get out. i'm coping. don't destroy this glass house with a hammer because it's the only home i have left.

and ES!Sam still aches. because ES!Dean is already choosing another sam. LS!Dean looks at him like he has the power to kill him. LS!Sam looks at him like he pities him, which is the deepest cut of all.

poor sam. poor sam who doesn't want to die for this. poor sam who doesn't get us, who isn't us.

LS!Dean, ironically enough, is the closest ES!Sam gets to compassion, but it always feels like blows directed at himself. yeah. it sucks, kid. it fucking blows. i wanted you to get a wife. to get out. i...i tried. i'm sorry. it's more self-recrimination than care.

but GOD! ES!Sam goes for a run and sprints until he throws up because he sees the packed strength of LS!Dean's arms, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. he sees the easy way LS!Sam&Dean laugh with each other, the way they talk with looks alone, the naked adoration. he sees ES!Dean and aches and aches and aches and aches and aches. he needs something he doesn't have the words for, something he's terrified to name, because does that mean that he's giving up? does that mean that he's the fucked up one--perverting this easy life that they all clearly adore?

and even the joy he finds--talking with LS!Dean in the kitchen, sparring with ES!Dean in the gym, enthusing with LS!Sam over texts--there are moments. small ones. where sam realizes that the person talking to him kind of stops, content. he's already part of this system, of this unit. sometimes the pauses feel patronizing. or excited. or so full of tension that sam is already hardening in his jeans. or sad. and it's confusing, but sam is walking down the empty hallways, passing rooms of dead men and seeking out his brother, always his brother, always.

GRAH!!! lonely ES!Sam. bitter ES!Sam. joyful ES!Sam. jealous ES!Sam. possessive ES!Sam. ES!Sam choking on the things he doesn't understand--the things he can't--that have made their lives the way they are.

thank you for this ask, anon! it was beautifully written! and now i am also thinking about this! perpetual motion machine of devouring ES!Sam whole!

-lizzy

[bodycountgame]

Hello! I was a big fan of the series a while a go and it is lovely to see that you are back. I'm terribly sorry that other anons put you through a lot with the voting aspect of the game. Absolutely no one deserves death threats for a story that they are bringing to us for free. However, I am not going to lie, I always feel a bit worried when a fandom majority vote is what has long lasting effects on character life/death. It was ok when it was everyone voting with an equal effect. Now there will be a wealth gap to vote. Only people that pay can contribute. And at least where I'm from wealth looks a certain kind of way.

Since you have characters that are in a minority it feels... Bad. Maybe I'm projecting how racist and transphobic my home country is on the vote for this game. I also don't want you to feel like this is an attack on you because that is not my intent at all! I love the diversity in the love interests and it was what brought me to the game initially. I am worried that if you do a majority vote on Patreon that characters that aren't white/cis will face a harsher vote. Trans lives are in danger and I was not surprised when a nonbinary character died first. I was part of the fandom and people treated them very grossly (it actually made me step away for a bit as well). There were many options but the vocally out and proud person got the boot first. What I'm saying is I trust you more than your Patreon supporters. If the people can't all vote as one, due to the actions of some terrible people, then maybe we shouldn't vote at all

anon, i totally understand your concerns because i absolutely shared them. to be completely honest with you, i had totally misjudged which characters i thought were popular or not and watching the three non binary cast members struggle through that first vote felt Bad. my personal disappointment about ellis being the character to receive the least votes in the vote contributed in no small part to the twist in chapter 3 and their revised arc (which was Not planned when i set out writing body count hahaha). howeverrrrrr, i did learn a lot from the process.

my main motivator behind making the vote patreon exclusive was that the voters would be genuinely invested in the game and that the polling would be much harder to game or manipulate. selfishly, i also think it will reduce a certain amount of the absolute barrage of wild anons from the first time around haha!

in addition to that, though, i think its important that i reaffirm what i have said from the start: i am acutely aware that in interactive fiction in general and particularly on tumblr there is a strong preference for white male characters, and i am not here to write some kind of gross POC/women/nb slasher. as much as i want the audience to have a say in the direction the story takes, i ultimately have final say on what happens in the story that i am writing.

the main way that i intend to have oversight of the voting process is by who appears on the polls in the first place; the first poll was the last time the whole cast will be available for a vote at the same time. since ellis, one of three NB cast members, was the first character to die, i've said that neither of the other NB cast members will appear on future polls. if it's women and POC suffering in the next vote, then i'll be applying similar logic. if that means we get towards the end and we need a white boy only poll then so be it!

that said, if people cannot behave then i will simply take away their toys. although i consider the voting mechanic to be one of the things that makes body count unique and fun, i'm absolutely not above doing away with it if there are Shenanigans that spoil it, ya know?

anyway, i hope that assuages some of your concerns! sorry for another giant wall of text wow i simply cannot answer a question concisely atm