#i feel like this version of them is a bit darker

[technically-human]

Welcome to the reverse verse! This is part 1 of 2 of a commission for @i-am-as-normal-as-you-are and I can't wait to tell you all about it, because I'm incapable of being normal and chill about these concepts, so I ran with it.

Charles Rowland was born in 1900, his mum was from India and moved to the UK after marrying Charles' dad, a soldier who was not... very loving. Charles' heritage gave him some problems, but none as bad as that one time in 1916 when he was sacrificed to a demon and spent the next 7 decades in Hell. He doesn't like to talk about it, except when it can get him what he wants. He was always an angry boy, or so he thought, but after his time spent in Hell, it became so much worse. He's explosive and unpredictable, and so he mostly avoids conflict. He doesn't need to fight anyone, as his charming personality and sweet smile (plus a few smart calculations) always seem to be enough to convince people to give him what he asks for. And when the fight is inevitable... well, he has Edwin for that!

Edwin Payne grew up very sheltered, in a deeply religious home, and he is proud of that. Don't try to argue with him, because he surely has a Bible verse that will help him win (and if not, he is not above using his croquet mallet now that he has someone to keep safe). Unfortunately for him, he realized at a quite young age that he felt attraction towards other boys. Even worse, somehow other people could tell as well, including those peers that ended up killing him for it (the rumour spread throughout school was that he had died due to AIDS, and most people just accepted it). He never acted on those unnatural urges of his, but when he met this ghost who had just escaped Hell... he decided not to risk eternal damnation, and to stay here with Charles, instead. Edwin has no interest in the supernatural or in magic, and sort of looks down on them, but luckily his friend's got that covered.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ~

⟢ One-shot Danny Phantom — Genre: Angst / Hurt — TW: Emotional Distress — Rating: T — AU? — First Person’s POV

———————

There he was—there it was.

My reflection stared back, the green glow of my eyes erratic, flickering like a faulty lightbulb. I wasn’t just looking at myself—I was looking through myself, and I hated what I saw. Not just the face staring back, but the endless spiral behind it—pulling me deeper into some unknowable abyss.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the battle. That one battle. Not with a ghost, not with some lurking threat—but with myself.

The dark part of… me.

The part that had escaped.

Again.

I’d won, of course—I had to believe that. I was the good side of myself, wasn’t I?

The hero.

But winning didn’t feel like triumph. It felt like a delay. Some whispers of the future lingering behind me, leaning over my shoulders, suffocating me with their burden.

I was afraid of becoming him.

That dangerous, older me. That monstrous version of myself that had been waiting all along.

All the—what ifs—it claws at the edges of my thoughts, unraveling my already frayed mind.

What if I couldn’t stop it? What if I was already becoming that monster? What if it was inevitable?

I stared deeper into the mirror, my fists tightening until my nails bit into my palms through my white gloves. I thought about my family, my friends—the people who had always been there. I’d already pushed them away, hadn’t I?

Maybe they aren’t even my friends anymore. Maybe I don’t deserve them.

Sam and Tucker had gone to college, following their dreams like normal people. Jazz was too busy carving her own path to stay. And me? I had stayed behind in the crumbling town I couldn’t abandon, giving up my dream of going to space. Protecting people was my purpose now. At least, that’s what I told myself. But deep down, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Was it a noble choice—or a coward’s excuse?

You could still go. You could leave. You could be an astronaut. Fly into space. Fulfill the dream. Your dream.

But it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing ever would.

I gritted my teeth, my reflection rippling in the glass like a warped painting.

Happy thoughts, I told myself. But they didn’t come. They never did anymore. It was always easier to sink into the darker ones, to let them drag myself down into the undertow.

The mocking voices of ghosts, the weight of battles fought and won—none of it mattered in the face of the gnawing feeling in my chest.

My core.

It purred softly, a dissonant hum, both comforting and sinister.

It felt… so freaking wrong.

As if it didn’t belong to me anymore. As if Phantom—him was bleeding into me, hollowing me out from the inside.

My breath hitched. My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the sink. My eyes clenched shut, but it didn’t block out the image of myself—the warped, flickering, monstrous reflection staring back. I felt like a glass that was about to shatter, cracks spidering across my soul.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

I punched my palms tighter until the pain jolted me back. But the ache in my chest was worse. Phantom wasn’t just part of me. Phantom was me.

My breath staggered in my throat—a sob trembling on the edge of release. My knuckles ached, my chest burned, and that pressure—that suffocating pressure—kept building on.

“Get out of my head!” I screamed, my voice raw, ripping through the suffocating silence.

The sound reverberated in the tiny room, crashing into the walls and returning to me like a ghostly echo. My reflection flickered again—glowing red of Phantom’s eyes overtaking my own for the briefest moment before fading back into green.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted again, this time so forcefully that my throat hurt, as though I was tearing myself apart. The sound cracked into a wail—an uncontrollable, heart-shattering release.

Green tears left cold trails down my cheeks as I screamed again, and again, and again… until the room seemed to quake.

The mirror shattered.

Shards exploded outward, raining onto the counter, the floor, my arms. A jagged piece nicked my cheek, drawing a thin line of green that dripped down onto my trembling hand.

I didn’t care.

My reflection was gone—splintered into a thousand fractured pieces scattered at my feet.

My knees buckled, and I barely caught myself against the sink. My hands shivered, slipping on the porcelain.

I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the cold tile, knees pulled to my chest. My hands tangled in my snow-white hair as sobs wracked my body. Every shuddering breath felt like it might break me further.

The shards of glass caught the dim light, a kaleidoscope of chaos surrounding me, reflecting parts of me I couldn’t escape from.

I clutched my chest, my core still purring that discordant frequency—like a faint, mocking laugh echoing from deep within.

“I’m scared,” I whispered to—no one. My voice cracked. “I don’t want to become… him.”

My words dissolved into another sob as I curled tighter, the shattered mirror fragments glinting like stars against the dark void I felt, pulling me under.

“I will never turn into you.”

———————

Okay. First time I drew Dan. I was scared. Scared of those eyes. Those eyes that pierced the whole time into mine—no, through mine. I should’ve waited with his eyes until the end, but of course, I didn’t.

———————

⟢ You can find my Phan fics here.

[morhido]

Sighs. Okay yeah i have thoughts about cgi toothless.

First of all, why does he look so... slimy? He feels too smooth. Like they just stretched some scaly skin over a skeleton and let it walk around. Immediately offputting.

His body language is. Fine? Am i being nitpicky or does it seem just the tiniest bit less expressive? I'm guessing this is either the scene right after hiccup cuts him free, in which case he should be way more intimidating, or the fish-sharing scene, in which case he should feel a little friendlier and more curious around hiccup. It's a quick shot so i won't put a ton of expectations onto it, but i think it's worth noting.

Okay this is a legitimately cool detail though. He has a secondary eyelid!! You can see it slipping away when he opens his eyes. That's a detail exclusive to the books so i like that they included something as small as that.

Sighs again. And this is the shot that prompted me to make this post.

Look at the original, and then look at the cgi version. I could write an essay about how inferior the cgi version is in comparison.

First off, they flattened his face. I swear every iteration of night furies after the first movie has just been compressing their snouts until they're sufficiently 'cute' enough for the audience to forget they're supposed to be sleek and aerodynamic.

Second, his eyes. Absolutely radioactive. I understand using a brighter colour for his eyes, especially in a relatively darker environment to make him stand out and seem more fantastical. But. They're just so bright. It's mildly unsettling how saturated they are compared to everything else.

Third, his eyes. Again.

Toothless is supposed to be terrified but still threatening in this scene, and the original shot conveys that perfectly. If it's a threat, then by all means hiccup should kill it or at least run, but instead he draws a connection between both of them being scared of the other and decides to cut him loose instead. And that's the core of their relationship. Toothless is staring him down with a slitted pupil that could just as easily be interpreted as "fuck around and find out" but hiccup just acknowledges that there's a frightened, injured animal in front of him that needs help, and he helps.

Is any of that conveyed in the cgi version? No!! It's trying so hard to be cute that it's gone full circle back to just being scary. The wide-eyed stare, the dilated pupil, he's basically just saying "🥺🥺 uwu pwease i'm so cute and innocent don't kill me aha 👉👈". Which is a lot less of a compelling reason for hiccup to free him!! Plus the fact that toothless turns up to look at him instead of lying and accepting his fate like in the original, which only makes it seem even more like he's trying to show off how apparently adorable he is.

Idk. Just the difference between the in-your-face sanitised cuteness of "teehe you wouldn't kill little old me would you? 🥺" and the expert subtlety of his "please don't hurt me" of the original doesn't give me high hopes for a toothless that stays true to his character from the first movie. Even from something as small as this. He's gonna get woobified. I can feel it.

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: black science fiction

As february and black history month nears its end, if you're a reader let's not forget to read and appreciate books by black authors the rest of the year as well! If you're a sci-fi fan like me, perhaps this list can help find some good books to sink your teeth into.

Bleak dystopias, high tech space adventures, alien monsters, alternate dimensions, mash-ups of sci-fi and fantasy - this list features a little bit of everything for genre fiction fans!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Something massive and alien crashes into the ocean off the coast of Nigeria. Three people, a marine biologist, a rapper, and a soldier, find themselves at the center of this presence, attempting to shepherd an alien ambassador as chaos spreads in the city. A strange novel that mixes the supernatural with the alien, shifts between many different POVs, and gives a one of a kind look at a possible first contact.

Nubia: The Awakening (Nubia series) by Omar Epps & Clarence A. Hayes

Young adult. Three teens living in the slums of an enviromentally ravaged New York find that something powerful is awakening within them. They’re all children of refugees of Nubia, a utopian African island nation that sank as the climate worsened, and realize now that their parents have been hiding aspects of their heritage from them. But as they come into their own, someone seeks to use their abilities to his own ends, against their own people.

The Scourge Between Stars by Ness Brown

Novella. After having failed at establishing a new colony, starship Calypso fights to make it back to Earth. Acting captain Jacklyn Albright is already struggling against the threats of interstellar space and impending starvation when the ship throws her a new danger: something is hiding on the ship, picking off her crew one by one in bloody, gruesome ways. A quick, excellent read if you want some good Alien vibes.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Includes darker examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in world-building, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he’s exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Rosewater (The Wormwood trilogy) by Tade Thompson

In Nigeria lies Rosewater, a city bordering on a strange, alien biodome. Its motives are unknown, but it’s having an undeniable effect on the surrounding life. Kaaro, former criminal and current psychic agent for the government, is one of the people changed by it. When other psychics like him begin getting killed, Kaaro must take it upon himself to find out the truth about the biodome and its intentions.

Do You Dream of Terra-Two? by Temi Oh

Young adult. A century ago, an astronomer discovered a possibly Earth-like planet. Now, a team of veteran astronauts and carefully chosen teenagers are preparing to embark on a twenty-three year trip to get there. But space is dangerous, and the team has no one to rely on but each other if - or when - something goes wrong. An introspective slowburn of a story, this focuses more on character work than action.

The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord

After the planet Sadira is left uninhabitable, its few survivors are forced to move to a new world. On Cygnus Beta, they work to rebuild their society alongside their distant relatives of the planet, while trying to preserve what remains of their culture. Focused less on hard science or action, The Best of All Possible Worlds is more about culture, romance and the ethics and practicalities of telepathy.

Mirage (Mirage duology) by Somaiya Daud

Young adult. Eighteen-year-old Amani lives on an isolated moon under the oppressive occupation of the Valthek empire. When Amani is abducted, she finds herself someplace wholly unexpected: the royal palace. As it turns out, she's nearly identical to the half-Valthek, and widely hated, princess Maram, who is in need of a body double. If Amani ever wants to make it back home or see her people freed from oppression, she will have to play her role as princess perfectly. While sci-fi, this one more has the vibe of a fantasy.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship’s leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship’s sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Where It Rains in Color by Denise Crittendon

The planet Swazembi is a utopia of color and beauty, the most beautiful of all its citizens being the Rare Indigo. Lileala was just named Rare Indigo, but her strict yet pampered life gets upended when her beautiful skin is struck by a mysterious sickness, leaving it covered in scars and scabs. Meanwhile, voices start to whisper in Lileala's mind, bringing to the surface a past long forgotten involving her entire society.

Eacaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus duology) by Nicky Drayden

Seske is the heir to the leader of a clan living inside a gigantic, spacefaring beast, of which they frequently need to catch a new one to reside in as their presence slowly kills the beast from the inside. While I found the ending rushed with regards to plot and character, the worldbuilding is very fresh and the overall plot of survival and class struggle an interesting one. It’s also sapphic!

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah*

In a near future America, inmates on death row or with life sentences in private prisons can choose to participate in death matches for entertainment. If they survive long enough - a rare case indeed - they regain their freedom. Among these prisoners are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara "Hurricane Staxxx" Stacker, partners behind the scenes and close to the deadline of a possible release - if only they can survive for long enough. As the game continues to be stacked against them and protests mount outside, two women fight for love, freedom, and their own humanity. Chain-Gang All-Stars is bleak and unflinching as well as genuinely hopeful in its portrayal of a dark but all to real possible future.

Parable of the Sower (Earthseed duology) by Octavia E. Butler*

In a bleak future, Lauren Olamina lives with her family in a gated community, one of few still safe places in a time of chaos. When her community falls, Lauren is forced on the run. As she makes her way toward possible safety, she picks up a following of other refugees, and sows the seeds of a new ideology which may one day be the saviour of mankind. Very bleak and scarily realistic, Parable of the Sower will make you both fear for mankind and regain your hope for humanity.

Binti (Binti trilogy) by Nnedi Okorafor

Young adult novella. Binti is the first of the Himba people to be accepted into the prestigious Oomza University, the finest place of higher learning in all the galaxy. But as she embarks on her interstellar journey, the unthinkable happens: her ship is attacked by the terrifying Meduse, an alien race at war with Oomza University.

War Girls (War Girls duology) by Tochi Onyebuchi

In an enviromentally fraught future, the Nigerian civil war has flared back up, utilizing cybernetics and mechs to enhance its soldiers. Two sisters, by bond if not by blood, are separated and end up on differing sides of the struggle. Brutal and dark, with themes of dehumanization of soldiers through cybernetics that turn them into weapons, and the effect and trauma this has on them.

The Space Between Worlds (The Space Between Worlds duology) by Micaiah Johnson

Multiverse travel is finally possible, but there’s a catch: No one can visit a world where their counterpart is still alive. Enter Cara, whose parallel selves happen to be exceptionally good at dying. As such she has a very special job in traveling to these worlds, hoping to keep her position long enough to gain citizenship in the walled-off Wiley City, away from the wastes where she grew up. But her job is dangerous, especially when she gets on the tracks of a secret that threatens the entire multiverse. Really cool worldbuilding and characters, also featuring a sapphic lead!

The Fifth Season (The Broken Eart trilogy) by N.K. Jemisin*

In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We get to follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her missing daughter. While mostly fantasy in genre, this series does have some sci-fi flavor, and is genuinely some of the best books I've ever read, please read them.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings*

In an alternate version of our present, the witch hunt never ended. Women are constantly watched and expected to marry young so their husbands can keep an eye on them. When she was fourteen, Josephine's mother disappeared, leveling suspicions at both mother and daughter of possible witchcraft. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, Jo, in trying to finally accept her missing mother as dead, decides to follow up on a set of seemingly nonsensical instructions left in her will. Features a bisexual lead!

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden

South African-set scifi featuring gods ancient and new, robots finding sentience, dik-diks, and a gay teen with mind control abilities. An ancient goddess seeks to return to her true power no matter how many humans she has to sacrifice to get there. A little bit all over the place but very creative and fresh.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson*

Young adult. Young artist June Costa lives in Palmares Tres, a beautiful, matriarchal city relying heavily on tradition, one of which is the Summer King. The most recent Summer King is Enki, a bold boy and fellow artist. With him at her side, June seeks to finally find fame and recognition through her art, breaking through the generational divide of her home. But growing close to Enki is dangerous, because he, like all Summer Kings, is destined to die.

The Blood Trials (The Blood Gifted duology) by N.E. Davenport

After Ikenna's grandfather is assasinated, she is convinced that only a member of the Praetorian guard, elite soldiers, could’ve killed him. Seeking to uncover his killer, Ikenna enrolls in a dangerous trial to join the Praetorians which only a quarter of applicants survive. For Ikenna, the stakes are even higher, as she's hiding forbidden blood magic which could cost her her life. Mix of fantasy and sci-fi. While I didn’t super vibe with this one, I suspect fans of action packed romantasy will enjoy it.

Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany

1960s classic. Rydra Wong is a space captain, linguist and poet who is set on learning to understand Babel-17, a language which is humanity's only clue at the enemy in an interstaller war. But Babel-17 is more than just a language, and studying it may change Rydra forever.

Pet (Pet duology) by Akwaeke Emezi

Young adult novella. Jam lives in a utopian future that has been freed of monsters and the systems which created and upheld them. But then she meets Pet, a dangerous creature claiming to be hunting a monster still among them, prepared to stop at nothing to find them. While I personally found the word-building in Pet lacking, it deftly handles dark subjects of what makes a human a monster.

Bonus AKA I haven’t read these yet but they seem really cool

Lion's Blood by Steven Barnes

Alternate history in which Africans colonized South America while vikings colonized the North. The vikings sell abducted Celts and Franks as slaves to the South, one of which is eleven-years-old Irish boy Aidan O'Dere, who was just bought by a Southern plantation owner.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow

Young adult dystopia. Ellie lives in a future where humanity is under the control of the alien Ilori. All art is forbidden, but Ellie keeps a secret library; when one of her books disappears, she fears discovery and execution. M0Rr1S, born in a lab and raised to be emotionless, finds her library, and though he should deliver her for execution, he finds himself obsessed with human music. Together the two embark on a roadtrip which may save humanity.

Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

Lelah lives in future Botswana, but despite money and fame she finds herself in an unhappy marriage, her body controlled via microchip by her husband. After burying the body of an accidental hit and run, Lelah's life gets worse when the ghost of her victim returns to enact bloody vengeance.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith

Young adult. Fen de la Guerre, living in a quarantined Gulf Coast left devestated by storms and sickness, is forced on the run with a newborn after her tribe is attacked. Hoping to get the child to safety, Fen seeks to get to the other side of the wall, she teams up with a scientist from the outside the quarantine zone.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

The Splinter in the Sky by Kemi Ashing-Giwa

Space opera. Enitan just wants to live a quiet life in the aftermath of a failed war of conquest, but when her lover is killed and her sister kidnapped, she's forced to leave her plans behind to save her sister.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: The City We Became (Great Cities duology) by N.K. Jemisin, The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull, The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole

[epicthemusicalstuff]

My reactions to the Ithaca Saga below the cut (read at your own risk)

The Challenge:

PENELOPE!!! I LOVE HER SO MUCH YOU DOJT UNDERSTAND! We knew most of this song from snippets already- but like?? It didn’t prepare me??? The parts with the suitors gave me chills, and the WAITING BIT!!! Before the underworld saga I knew that Penelope would sing Waiting, before we knew Anticlea would- but now hearing it with all the prior knowledge of waiting make it that much more gut wrenching-

Hold Them Down:

I wasn’t sure how I would feel about this song going in. Again, another one we knew a lot about, but???? The opening bit, just being a slightly darker version of what Penelope just sang?? Made me feral??? I won’t say much more about this one cause frankly the topics are not my favorite- but Antinous dying at the end?? The blood gurgle as he gets shot in the throat?? So unsettling? Loved it.

Odysseus:

So Much To Say About This One. IM HERE FOR FERAL ODYSSEUS. Man is amazing for the torches like he is Scylla- also! I love hearing all the different voices of the suitors! I don’t think we have had this many solo ensemble parts in any other song and I am loving it! THE OPEN ARMS REFERENCE WAS VILE- TELEMACHUS MY BOY! AND ATHENA’S QUICK THOUGHT I FRICKEN TOLD YALL SHE WASNT DEAD!

I Can’t Help But Wonder:

THE FIRST REUNION OF THE SAGA! I UGLY CRIED!! TELEMACHUS!! THEN THE WARRIOR OF THE MIND CALLBACK!! ATHENA! I died guys. I listen to this and died. This is my ghost speaking- THERE IS A GIRL HE HAS TO SEE!

Would You Fall In Love With Me Again:

They- they are back together. They would do anything to be back together and they made it!!! TRICKY PENELOPE MAKING SURE ODYSSEUS IS HER HUSBAND WITH THE WEDDING BED! MADE OF THE OLIVE TREE! I love her so much- and then she forgives Odysseus!!! SAYS HE WILL ALWAYS BE HER HUSBAND!!! THE WAITING. Also. Also. That instrumental? Before their final lines?? WAS THE MELODY OF JUST A MAN. SLOWED DOWN AND MUCH MORE ORCHESTRATED. I’m sobbing???? IM SOBBING??? I LOVE YOU.

[vampirq]

but i miss you, come here.

errmm hello ! this is a sub ?? cam girl version of this. i don’t even think this is sub abby but um she’s whiny as fuck, so that’s a win ! this wasn’t even supposed to be a thousand words but it was so hip hip hooray.

you’ve been away for a long time and it’s driving abby crazy. you told her it’ll be at least about a month until you guys could see each other again due to some job thing. it was heartbreaking really, you couldn’t bear to tell her the news, but you knew it had to be done. 

it’s another night that abby’s alone in your shared apartment. she’s sitting on the couch curled up, snacking on chips and watching some stupid sit com. the television shows two girls flirting, kissing, and romancing each other making abby’s heart pain with a sense of longing. 

“fuck.” she groans, dragging her palm over her face. it hurts her to think about you knowing she can’t have you here with her. she wants to be able to hold you in her arms, caress you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. she would’ve been able to do just that if it wasn’t for your job’s trip.

she picks up her phone and goes to her gallery, opening up the album she made just for you. a soft smile spreads across her face, each photo bringing back more memories. there’s one she loves specifically, you’re holding an ice cream cone in your hand filled with your favorite flavor. it’s dripping down your hands and it’s all over your lips, but that just makes it even sweeter. 

until she gets to a certain photo. a photo where you have your shirt tucked in between your teeth and your chest is on display. she must’ve forgot to put these in her hidden, along with the lewd photos of you that follow. it makes a feeling bubble inside of her, one that she knew all too well. 

on most nights when you’re not there, abby usually had enough discipline to stop herself from curing that ache. she would either sleep it off or head to the gym then sleep it off. but tonight, it was so much more different. every passing thought was just you and with those thoughts, that feeling inside of her grew. 

now, she could just facetime you and ask for help, but she wanted to make you something too. something that’ll help hold the both of you over for the next 2 weeks. 

she opens the camera app up to adjust her hair, removing any crumbs from her face and body. then, she sits it down on the coffee table and presses record. 

“missed you so much, baby. all i can think about is you.” she says softly, keeping her tone low and steady. her hand trails up over her legs until she reaches them hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head with practiced ease.

she lays back against the couch, manspreading, hand rested on her thigh. the phone captures all of her, her toned muscles and abs on show just for you. 

“can’t wait to taste that pretty pussy again. feel it gush around my cock and fingers.” her tone is darker now, but everything is still steady, precise. she begins pushing her pants and boxers down until they pool at her feet. 

her legs spread open, giving you a clear view of her cunt. it glistens in the dim lighting, all of it being highlighted from the warm lamp. she drags her finger over her slit, the phone picking up the sound of her juices. 

she plays with herself a bit, working herself up just like you do you’re together. after a couple of moments, she feels like she’s had enough and moves her fingers onto her clit. she sighs in relief, starting to rub slow messy circles on the bundle of nerves. 

“you see what you do to me, pretty?” she manages in between low moans, her fingers starting to pick up pace. “didn’t wanna do this without your permission, but i couldn’t wait.”

her body stays like that for a bit, slightly shaking from her actions. if you look closely, you could see her hole clench around nothing and her hips buck up. 

you know she’s getting close, her groans turn into whimpers and that ‘dominant’ voice of hers starts to get more high pitched. she wants to cum so badly, wants to finally cure the persistent ache in her core. but she doesn’t, instead she stops her fingers completely. 

abby’s head falls back, catching her breath for a bit before she picks it back up. but this time, she’s fucking herself. her fingers are back on her folds, gliding them up and down before dipping them inside.

a small whimper leaves her lips, followed by a string of curses. her fingers are still inside of her, giving her a bit to adjust, then she finds a steady pace, slow and deep. 

“you have no idea how much those photos of you turned me on.” she mutters, angling her fingers so she’s hitting that spot with every thrust. “seeing your tits out, back arched, and that video of you moaning for me.”

with each word, she starts getting lost deeper into the memories. even claiming that she could feel your pussy around her fingers. her walls start clenching around her, trying to hold back her orgasm. 

it’s hot really, seeing her legs shake and her muscles start to tense up. her words start forming into a babbles, and pleas to cum. “oh, mmfff — please, please let me cum, baby.” 

“i’ve been so good, just wanna show you how you— fuck, how you make me feel.” her fingers  speed up now, going deeper and harder into her pussy. it only takes a few more pumps until she’s gushing everywhere. her juices flood the couch, leaving a big, wet puddle in front of her. 

she’s silent for a bit and her fingers are still. her head is still spinning from the intensity of her orgasm. it takes her a moment to snap back into reality and realize that the camera is still focused on her. 

she picks it up, angling the phone to show her messy, soaked cunt. she spreads her folds for you before bringing the camera back to her face and stopped the recording. 

her finger taps on the messages icon and your contact, attaching the video with a message saying, ‘miss you babe.’ 

🏷️ : @samcvrpenters @ellieslosttwofingers @macabremilieu @bambiaches @pornoangelz @thedxxthnotes

[cloudyluun]

Until You Stay | famous!harry

Summary: Beth Monroe is a sharp-tongued journalist looking for her big break. Harry Styles is a cocky, untouchable rockstar who doesn’t take well to being challenged. What starts as a battle of wills—sharp words and razor-edged tension—spirals into something darker, filthier, and impossible to walk away from. But when feelings get involved, when the masks slip, will they still be able to pretend it doesn’t mean anything?

A/N: This is a commissioned work of fiction based on Harry as a famous singer, I make no claims of knowing him personally in any way. But someone trusted me to bring their filthy, angsty dreams to life, and I may have gone just a little feral in the process. So enjoy the chaos, the tension, and, of course, Harry being an insufferable asshole.

Word Count: 7,7k

Warnings: 

Explicit Smut (very detailed & filthy)

Rough Sex, Degradation, and Dom/Sub Dynamics

Jealous/Possessive Harry

Toxic Dynamics & Power Struggles

Strong Language & Dirty Talk

Angst & Emotional Turmoil

Paparazzi & Media Manipulation

Mentions of Alcohol & Self-Destructive Behavior

A Hard-Won Happy Ending

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Beth Monroe had always known she was meant for more than this.

Twenty-seven years old and already jaded, she was the kind of journalist who wanted to chase real stories—the ones that peeled back the glossy surface of the world and exposed what lay underneath. The truth. Not the watered-down, PR-approved version of it, but the raw, unfiltered mess of reality. That’s why she had spent years clawing her way through the ranks of journalism, determined to escape the suffocating confines of celebrity gossip and meaningless soundbites.

But the industry had other plans for her.

She had started with ambition, fresh out of college, ready to write the stories that mattered. But the jobs that paid? The ones that kept the rent covered and the lights on? Those were the ones that required clickbait headlines and shallow coverage of people who barely seemed real.

And so, Beth had become another faceless name in the sea of entertainment journalists, forced to write about scandals, red carpet outfits, and who's dating who. She’d learned how to craft engaging pieces that held just enough bite to make them feel substantial, but in the end, it was all just noise. A constant cycle of disposable stories about people whose lives would never be touched by the words she wrote.

That’s why this assignment felt like her last shot.

Her boss had made it clear—this was either going to be her big break or her last chance before she was permanently relegated to covering B-list divorces and influencer drama.

"We need something real, Beth," her editor, Jonathan Pierce, had told her, fingers tapping against his desk as he leveled her with that too-patient look. "Not just another shallow puff piece. Styles is at the peak of his career right now. People want to know who he is, not the version we see on stage, but the man underneath it all."

Beth had bit back the urge to roll her eyes.

Harry Styles.

Of course.

If there was one name that could guarantee headlines and clicks, it was his. He was a global phenomenon, a walking enigma, an untouchable icon. At thirty, he had long since outgrown his boyband past, solidifying himself as one of the most powerful and respected musicians in the industry. His concerts sold out within minutes. His albums dominated the charts. His face was plastered across billboards, magazines, and social media feeds worldwide.

And yet—he was also infamously private.

Beth had done her research. He gave interviews, sure, but they were carefully controlled, filled with charming deflections and rehearsed soundbites. The media loved him, but no one actually knew him.

Her job? To change that.

She had been granted exclusive access to his European tour, shadowing him across multiple countries, given rare, behind-the-scenes insight into the life of Harry Styles, the person.

Beth knew how this would go.

She would show up, ask the hard-hitting questions, and be met with infuriatingly smooth non-answers. He’d probably flash that boyish smirk, tilt his head just right, and make it impossible for anyone to push too hard. The public adored him for that.

But Beth?

She wasn’t here to adore him. She was here to unravel him.

Still, she wasn’t expecting her first glimpse of him to hit her like a gut punch.

The moment she stepped into that room, she knew.

He was going to be a problem.

The private event was held at an intimate venue in Paris; a low-lit, exclusive affair where only VIPs, industry elites, and carefully selected press members were allowed inside. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, leather seating, and the faint musk of whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

Beth walked in, blending into the sea of journalists and label executives, scanning the room for the man she had spent weeks researching.

And then she saw him.

Harry Styles did not belong to the real world.

There was something about the way he existed in a space, the way people naturally gravitated toward him—an effortless pull, an undeniable gravity.

He stood near the back of the room, dressed in an all-black ensemble that should have looked simple but instead made him look infuriatingly expensive. The tailored slacks. The silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at tattoos inked across golden skin. The loose, effortless curls.

But it wasn’t just his looks.

It was the way he carried himself like he was untouchable.

Beth watched as he laughed at something someone said, flashing that devastating grin that made cameras worship him. But it was the look in his eyes that caught her attention—sharp, assessing, distant, even as he smiled.

And then, as if sensing her stare, he turned.

Their gazes met.

A slow flicker of recognition crossed his face, though they had never met before. His green eyes scanned her, quick and unreadable.

And then, just as fast, he looked away.

Dismissive.

Beth felt heat rise to her throat.

Oh.

Oh, he was going to be a problem.

And he had no idea what was coming for him.

Beth didn’t look away first.

She wasn’t the type to shrink under scrutiny, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. But Harry? He barely spared her a full second before shifting his attention elsewhere, like she wasn’t worth a second glance.

The disinterest was strategic, she realized almost immediately. A controlled dismissal. The kind that kept people chasing, trying harder, falling over themselves for just an ounce of acknowledgment. She’d seen it before—men in power using silence as their weapon, turning the simple act of ignoring someone into an exercise of dominance.

It didn’t work on her.

So when she was finally ushered forward—her name murmured alongside a polite introduction—she didn’t bother offering her hand or plastering on a media-friendly smile. She met him with the same level of apathy he had thrown her way.

“Beth Monroe,” the event coordinator introduced. “She’s covering the European tour for Pulse magazine.”

Harry, who had just been charming some record executive’s wife with an easy smile and effortless conversation, didn’t even pretend to be interested. He gave the barest nod, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before lifting it to his lips.

“Journalist,” he mused, voice low, almost amused—but not in a way that invited conversation. More like he was tasting the word and finding it unappetizing.

Beth crossed her arms. "Is that a problem?"

That made him look at her properly.

Up close, she could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the sharp contrast between deliberate nonchalance and razor-sharp awareness. She knew the game well—he was observing, measuring, deciding exactly how much space she was allowed to take up.

And then, in the most unbothered, condescending way possible, he simply muttered, "No. Just predictable."

Beth’s lips parted, caught between shock and incredulous amusement.

"Predictable?" she echoed, lifting an eyebrow. "That’s a bit rich coming from a man whose entire brand is built on being the world’s most palatable rockstar."

There it was.

The shift.

The flicker of something in his gaze like she had managed to surprise him. Like maybe he wasn’t expecting her to push back.

It lasted half a second before he schooled his features, tipping his glass back and dismissing her completely.

Beth could feel the eyes on them. The silent tension in the room as the moment stretched between them. But Harry? He wasn’t interested. At least, not enough to entertain her further.

His voice was maddeningly even as he murmured, "Enjoy the party, Miss Monroe."

And just like that, he turned his back on her.

Beth spent the rest of the night watching. Not because she was enthralled—fuck no—but because she needed to understand him. If she was going to do this job right, she needed to know what made him tick, needed to peel back the carefully constructed layers he used to keep the world at arm’s length.

What she noticed was infuriating.

Harry was charming with everyone else. Effortlessly engaged, magnetic in a way that made people lean in, hang on his every word. He gave them just enough of himself—never too much, never too little. His persona was crafted with surgical precision.

But with her?

Nothing.

He ignored her. Not obviously, not rudely, but in a way that felt intentional. Every time she tried to break into a conversation, he sidestepped her. When she asked a question, he answered in vague, detached sentences.

And when she finally managed to pull him into a one-on-one exchange again, it ended just as quickly as the first.

“I’ve noticed you never really answer questions,” she said, arms crossed as she studied him from across the dimly lit bar area.

Harry didn’t look up from where he was stirring his drink with a lazy wrist. “And I’ve noticed journalists never stop asking them.”

Beth exhaled sharply through her nose. “Right. Because heaven forbid anyone learns something real about Harry Styles.”

That got his attention.

He set his glass down, leaning against the counter as his gaze slid over her slowly.

“You lot aren’t interested in ‘real.’” His voice was quiet, but firm. “You’re interested in a headline.”

Beth bristled. “And you’re interested in a narrative.”

Something shifted.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the weight of the conversation settling between them.

Then Harry smirked.

“Good luck with your story, Miss Monroe.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Beth clenched her jaw.

She wasn’t done with him yet.

Beth had dealt with difficult men before. Politicians who thought they were too powerful to be held accountable, executives who assumed her presence in a room meant she was someone’s assistant rather than the journalist they’d have to answer to. She had sharpened herself against condescension and arrogance, made a career out of standing her ground in rooms filled with people who wanted to dismiss her.

But Harry Styles?

He was a different breed of difficult.

For the next several weeks, Beth followed him across Europe, shadowing his tour with increasing frustration. She sat through press conferences where he charmed reporters into asking safe, meaningless questions—the kind that allowed him to give those clever, detached answers that never actually revealed anything.

She watched him interact with fans, saw the way he flipped the switch so effortlessly—one moment the distant, untouchable rockstar, the next, someone who could make a stadium of people feel like they mattered.

And yet, with her?

He remained a wall.

He made it a point to avoid her questions, brushing past them with an easy smirk and a raised eyebrow, like he found her attempts amusing.

“Beth, darling, you’re thinking too hard,” he had murmured once, lounging backstage after a show, still glistening with sweat from the stage lights. “Why don’t you just write the same piece everyone else does? You know, the whole ‘Harry Styles is mysterious but also terribly charming’ bit. Sells every time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t write fanfiction.”

He grinned. “Shame.”

And then there were the games.

Beth would show up for scheduled interview slots, only to be told that Harry was "unavailable." Sometimes it was because he was in a mood. Sometimes it was because he was “too busy” relaxing in his dressing room, scrolling through his phone, while she sat outside with her recorder untouched on her lap.

When she finally called him out on it, he didn’t even pretend to feel bad.

“Beth, love,” he drawled, voice dripping in mock sympathy, “you’re in my world now. Things don’t always run on schedule.”

Her patience cracked. “So you’re just wasting my time for fun?”

Harry leaned back in his seat, legs spread wide, fingers tapping lazily against the armrest. “Not for fun.” Then, after a beat, he smirked. “Though it is fun watching you get all worked up.”

She wanted to throw something at him.

The breaking point came after a particularly brutal argument.

It had been a long day—one of those rare occasions when Beth had actually gotten a few uninterrupted moments to ask real questions. She had pushed harder than usual, refusing to let him slide through with half-answers and smirks.

“Why do you do that?” she had asked, arms crossed as she watched him peel the rings off his fingers after soundcheck.

Harry flicked a glance up. “Do what?”

“Pretend you’re giving people something real when all you’re actually doing is controlling the narrative.”

The look he gave her was sharp, guarded. “That’s rich, coming from someone whose job is to spin a story.”

Beth exhaled through her nose. “You think this is easy for me? That I just write whatever sells? I’m not here to make you look good, Harry. I’m here to write the truth.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

And then, before she even saw him move, he was in front of her.

Too close.

Her breath caught.

She wasn’t sure if he had stepped forward or if she had unconsciously leaned in, but suddenly, there was no space between them. The air thickened, buzzing with something hot and electric.

His jaw flexed.

His hands curled into loose fists at his sides, as if he was holding something back.

Beth lifted her chin, refusing to shrink away.

The corner of his mouth twitched—not in amusement, not quite. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and slow, a quiet challenge.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

Beth swallowed, throat tight. “I think you hate that you can’t intimidate me.”

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating pause.

For a second—just a second—she swore his gaze dropped to her mouth.

But neither of them moved.

Neither of them acted on it.

And later that night, when Beth was alone in her hotel room, staring at the ceiling—she realized she was still thinking about it.

She wondered if he was, too.

Beth liked to believe that she had control over herself—over her emotions, over the way her body reacted, over the frustrating, infuriating pull she felt every time Harry Styles so much as looked at her.

But control was hard to maintain when someone was constantly poking, prodding, pushing just to see where her breaking point was.

And Harry?

Harry was pushing.

Hard.

It happened in Milan.

The afterparty was in full swing—music thumping, bodies swaying, conversations weaving in and out of the dim, golden-lit space. Beth wasn’t drinking, but the atmosphere was intoxicating in itself, everyone high off the post-show adrenaline.

Harry had been watching her all night.

Not obviously, not in a way anyone else would notice, but she felt it. The flicker of his gaze when she moved through the crowd, the way his attention snagged whenever she threw her head back in laughter.

She ignored it.

She refused to let him get in her head.

Which was why, when another musician—Nate, a guitarist from one of the opening acts—struck up a conversation with her, Beth didn’t hesitate to let herself enjoy it.

He was easy to talk to, charming in a way that didn’t feel like a performance. And when he leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh—a real, unguarded laugh—she barely had time to register the shift in the air before Harry was there.

He didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t say anything.

He just stood there, nursing a drink, his stare cutting through the noise like a blade.

Beth felt it before she saw it—the shift in Nate’s posture, the way his fingers curled around the bottle in his hand.

“I’ll catch you later,” Nate murmured, voice a little too careful.

Beth blinked. “Wait, what?”

But he was already slipping away, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room.

And that was when she felt him.

The warmth of his presence behind her, the slow exhale against the shell of her ear.

“You like playing games, love?”

Beth closed her eyes.

Of course. Of course he had to do this.

She turned slowly, deliberately, only to find him watching her with a look she couldn’t quite place.

“Excuse me?” she said, tone light, though she could feel her pulse thrumming against her skin.

Harry tilted his head, mocking. “That was cute. The whole giggle and lean-in routine. Did you rehearse that?”

Beth’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to have a conversation without your approval?”

His jaw flexed. “Didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, exactly?”

He took a step closer.

Then another.

Beth refused to step back.

His voice dropped lower, dangerously smooth.

“I’m saying… you’ve been running your mouth for weeks. Acting like you don’t give a shit about me. But then—” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “—then you go and pull that?”

She scoffed. “Pull what?”

Harry smiled. It wasn’t nice.

“You wanted me to see that.”

Beth’s stomach flipped.

She should have laughed in his face. Should have rolled her eyes, brushed past him, walked away.

But she didn’t.

Because there was something about the way he was looking at her.

Something thick and charged and dangerous.

His hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t trust himself not to touch her.

Beth’s breath shook.

The music downstairs faded into a dull throb, the laughter and chatter dissolving into nothing. The party might as well have been on the other side of the world.

It was just them now.

Beth barely registered how it happened—one moment, she was in the thick of the afterparty, heat and voices pressing in on all sides. The next, the door clicked shut behind her. A soft, decisive sound.

She turned just in time to see Harry’s hand linger on the lock, fingers curling around the metal, twisting until it slid into place. A quiet snick.

Her pulse skittered.

Slowly, he turned back to her, gaze dark and unreadable.

Somehow, between one breath and the next, Beth’s back was already against the wall, cool brick pressing through the thin fabric of her dress. She could still feel the phantom warmth of Nate’s touch—light, fleeting—but it didn’t matter. Not when Harry was in front of her now. Not when his body was taut with something sharp, something dark. His eyes, usually lidded with lazy arrogance, were harder now. Narrowed. Burning.

His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was trying to control himself.

Then, low, rough, "You like playing games, love?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

She forced herself to lift her chin. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

His jaw twitched.

Slow. Measured. He reached out, running two fingers up her arm, featherlight but searing. Beth refused to react, refused to show him that he got under her skin.

His lips curled. "Laughing. Touching. Batting your lashes at him like you wanted him to take you right there in front of everyone."

That made her scoff. "Oh, fuck off—"

She barely got the words out before he was on her.

No warning. No hesitation.

One hand shot to her throat—not squeezing, just holding, firm enough to make her gasp as his body pressed flush against hers. His other hand planted itself beside her head, caging her in completely.

His mouth hovered just above hers, breath warm, uneven.

"You wanna push me, is that it?" he murmured, voice like gravel. "You wanna see what happens when I lose my patience?"

Her breath hitched.

It wasn’t fear curling in her stomach. It was something much worse.

She wanted this.

Needed it.

So she pushed him again, knowing it was reckless. "Maybe I do."

That was all it took.

Harry didn’t waste another second.

His grip tightened, and then he was kissing her—if it could even be called that. There was nothing soft about it. No buildup, no hesitation. It was a clash of teeth and tongues, a war between them.

His hand left her throat, moving down, down, over the thin fabric of her dress, gripping her waist so tightly it ached.

Beth’s nails raked down his arms, her own frustration spilling over. She wanted to hurt him. Make him feel this the way she did.

"Fuck—"

The word was ripped from her throat as he yanked her leg up, hitching it over his hip. The dress rode up instantly, baring her thigh, and then his hand was there, fingers digging into her skin, making her burn.

Desperate.

That was what this was.

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t romance.

It was hunger.

It was starving.

His teeth scraped along her jaw, down her neck. He bit—not enough to leave marks, but enough to make her feel it.

“Look at you,” he rasped, dragging his mouth down her jaw. “Needy. Desperate. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Her fingers fisted in his hair. "Fuck you."

He laughed, breathless, dark.

"Say it," he pressed. "Say you want it."

Beth clenched her teeth. She hated him.

And yet.

And yet.

"Say it."

She swallowed hard, nails still biting into his shoulders. "I want it."

He hummed in approval, pushing her harder against the wall. "Good girl."

Then he wrecked her.

There was no teasing. No gentle touch. He dragged her panties down and shoved her dress up with no regard, making her gasp as the cool air kissed her exposed skin. His fingers slid between her thighs, finding her soaked, and he smirked.

"Fuckin’ knew it," he muttered, lips brushing her ear. "You act like you don’t want this, but look at you."

She bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound.

It didn’t last.

His fingers slipped inside her, rough, unrelenting, and the cry broke from her throat before she could stop it.

"That’s it," he murmured, pumping them hard and deep. "Don’t hold back now."

Her head tipped back against the wall, hands gripping his shoulders, nails biting through the fabric of his shirt. His thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing, teasing, pushing her closer and closer to the edge with every sharp movement.

"Thinkin’ about him now?" Harry taunted, voice low. "Bet you’re not."

She wasn’t.

She hated it, but she wasn’t.

All she could think about was Harry.

His fingers. His voice. The way he was taking what he wanted without a second thought.

Her whole body tensed, pleasure winding tight in her stomach.

And then he pulled away.

A whimper slipped out before she could stop it.

He grinned. "Not yet."

He undid his belt in a swift motion, shoved his jeans down just enough, and then he was lifting her completely, pressing her against the wall, spreading her open for him.

She barely had time to take a breath before he slammed into her.

"Fuck—"

She choked on a gasp, nails raking down his back as he filled her, stretched her in a way that made her legs shake.

There was no time to adjust.

No time to breathe.

He just fucked her.

Hard.

Desperate.

The wall scraped against her back with every sharp thrust, and she loved it.

His fingers bit into her thighs, holding her in place, making her take every inch, every punishing roll of his hips.

"You take me so fuckin’ well," he murmured, voice strained, lips dragging over her neck. "Like you need this."

She did.

God help her, she did.

She was close—so fucking close, and she knew he could feel it in the way she clenched around him, in the way her nails dug deeper, in the way her body arched.

"Say it," he ordered. "Say you’re mine."

Her breath stuttered.

He thrust harder. "Say it, Beth."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her body screaming for release.

And then she broke.

"I’m yours."

He groaned, deep and guttural, and that was all it took.

Pleasure crashed through her, leaving her shaking, wrecked, gasping as he kept going, drawing it out until she had nothing left to give.

Moments later, he followed, hips jerking, a rough growl spilling from his throat as he came deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Their breathing was heavy, erratic, mingling in the thick air between them.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

Harry pulled away, adjusted himself, ran a hand through his hair like nothing had happened.

Beth watched, still breathless, still reeling.

He met her eyes, his own dark, unreadable.

Then, with a smirk that made her stomach flip, he stepped back.

"See you around, love."

And then he was gone.

Leaving her wrecked, ruined, and still fucking wanting.

But worst of all?

She still wanted him.

She hated herself for it.

She hated him more.

Beth barely remembered leaving the party, barely registered the way the city lights blurred together in the back of her cab, the hum of Milan’s nightlife drowning out the noise in her head. Her body still felt him—his hands, his breath, the rough edge of his voice scraping against her skin.

It should have been enough.

It should have burned her out, smothered whatever slow, insidious pull had been building between them.

But it didn’t.

Because when she saw him again the next day, sitting in the green room of the arena, lounging like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t ruined her the night before—Beth realized something awful.

She wasn’t done with him yet.

--

Harry was different now.

Not in the way Beth had expected—not in the way most men got after a night like that.

There was no smugness, no knowing smirk, no self-satisfied arrogance that she could take a swing at.

Instead, he was… colder.

Distant. Detached. Like she was nothing more than a mild inconvenience, an insignificant blip on his radar.

He barely looked at her.

Didn’t acknowledge her when she walked into a room, didn’t spare her even a glance during soundcheck or press briefings.

And that should have been fine.

She should have been fine.

But the second she started talking to someone else—the second she so much as smiled in another man’s direction—Harry’s jaw would lock.

His shoulders would tense.

His fingers would curl around his drink, around his microphone, around anything to keep from doing something reckless.

Beth noticed.

And she made sure he knew it.

She leaned in closer when someone else made her laugh. Let her fingers linger just a little longer when she touched an arm. Tilted her head just right when she listened, knowing Harry was in the room, knowing he was watching even if he refused to look at her directly.

She wanted to prove a point.

If she was just a fuck, if she was nothing, then he shouldn’t care.

So why did he?

--

It happened in Paris.

Beth had been talking to a photographer, a harmless conversation, nothing she wasn’t allowed to do.

Harry had been across the room, pretending he didn’t give a shit.

Then suddenly, he wasn’t.

Suddenly, he was right there.

His hand closed around her wrist, fingers tight, his voice just low enough for only her to hear.

“Outside. Now.”

She blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “Excuse me?”

His grip didn’t loosen. “You heard me.”

For a second, she considered telling him to go to hell.

But she didn’t.

Because she wanted this too.

The door barely shut behind them before he was on her.

Teeth at her jaw, hands rough on her hips, shoving her against the brick wall of some dark alley behind the venue.

Beth gasped, but it wasn’t from shock.

She should have expected this.

She had wanted this.

“You’re a fucking brat,” Harry muttered against her skin, his voice thick with frustration, with heat, with something else she couldn’t name. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Beth grinned, sharp and mean. “What am I doing, Harry?”

His fingers tightened.

“You think you can get a reaction out of me?” His teeth scraped her jaw. “Think you can make me jealous?”

Her breath hitched.

“So you admit it?” she whispered. “You were jealous?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because the way he touched her—rougher, filthier than before—told her everything she needed to know.

The first time had been about control. About proving a point.

This time?

This time, it was a need.

Desperate. Dirty. Addictive.

And neither of them could stop.

Every time they tried, they failed.

The silence never lasted. The distance never held.

Because the second they were in the same room again, the second their eyes locked across crowded spaces, it was already too late.

They had pulled each other under too many times to pretend they knew how to breathe without drowning.

Beth knew it was toxic.

Knew it in the way her hands trembled when she buttoned up her shirt in the dark, his warmth still clinging to her skin.

Knew it in the way Harry’s fingers curled into fists when he watched her leave, like he wanted to reach for her but refused to let himself.

Knew it in the way they never talked about it.

Because talking would make it real. Talking would force them to admit that it wasn’t just physical, wasn’t just convenience, wasn’t just a mistake they kept making over and over again.

But they didn’t stop.

Not when they should have.

Not even when the headlines started.

Not even when the whispers turned into full-blown rumors, twisting what they had into something uglier, something Beth couldn’t control.

She was losing pieces of herself to this, to him.

And Harry—Harry wasn’t losing anything.

Not his reputation. Not his career. Not his control.

She should have left before it reached this point—before it ripped through them like a wildfire, scorching everything in its path, leaving nothing but wreckage and ruin in its wake.

Before it bled into everything else.

Before it turned into this.

--

It happened in London, outside a sleek, high-end restaurant that reeked of old money and exclusivity—the kind of place Harry fit into effortlessly, where his name alone held weight, where he belonged.

Beth never had any interest in it. The glint of polished silverware, the hushed conversations over expensive wine, the way the air itself seemed thicker inside—like money had a scent, and it didn’t belong to people like her.

She hadn’t even wanted to come. Had told herself, promised herself, that she was done. That she wouldn’t let him do this to her again.

And yet, here she was.

The air outside was thick, muggy, summer pressing against her skin like a second layer, suffocating, clinging. A neon sign from across the street flickered, buzzing intermittently, painting the pavement in broken splashes of red light.

Harry stood a few steps away, pacing, hands raking through his already-messy curls. His jaw was locked, shoulders drawn tight, his frustration visible in the tense way he moved. He looked untouchable—towering, sharp, devastating in his black suit, the collar of his shirt slightly open like even it couldn’t handle the heat of the moment.

His eyes found hers—dark, searing, burning like embers about to catch.

“Are you seriously fucking mad at me for this?” His voice was low, taut, a thread stretched too thin, on the verge of snapping.

Beth folded her arms tightly across her chest, holding herself together. She could feel the anger, coiling hot in her stomach, winding through her like a slow, controlled burn. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

His lips pressed into a hard, thin line. “Enlighten me.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. He didn’t care. He never fucking cared.

“Your team,” she spat, voice shaking despite her best efforts, “just made me look like some desperate, attention-seeking—”

“—that’s not what happened.”

“Really?” She stepped closer, chin tilting up defiantly, her eyes searching his face for something—anything. A flicker of regret. Understanding. A crack in the cold, calculated exterior he was so good at wearing. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like they threw me under the fucking bus to save your ass.”

The photos had hit the tabloids that morning.

Beth Monroe, clinging to Harry Styles. Beth Monroe, picking a fight in public. Beth Monroe, the problem.

Headlines twisting the truth, reshaping the narrative, turning her into something she wasn’t. His PR team had done what they always did—spun the story, cleaned up the mess, protected the asset.

Beth had been collateral damage.

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze flicking away as if he couldn’t be bothered to deal with this. “Jesus, Beth, why do you care so much what people think?”

Her stomach twisted—not just at the words, but at how he said them.

Like it was nothing. Like she was nothing.

Like all of this—all the nights, all the touches, all the ways they’d clawed at each other, desperate and reckless—had meant absolutely fucking nothing to him.

And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe she had been fooling herself this entire time.

Something inside her snapped—something raw and fragile and past the point of saving.

“You know what?” She took a breath, forcing her voice to stay steady, forcing herself to hold his gaze even though it hurt. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

And before she could change her mind—before she could let him pull her back in—she turned around.

And for the first time, she didn’t look back.

It should have been a relief.

Should have felt like he had won.

But it didn’t.

Harry downed the rest of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass as he set it down with more force than necessary.

The neon lights of the club flickered above him, casting shadows along the crowded space. Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the thrum of bass vibrating through the floor, a heartbeat that wasn’t his. People surrounded him—laughter, touches, whispers—but none of it registered.

His third drink.

Or maybe his fourth.

He wasn’t keeping track. Didn’t need to.

Because Beth was gone.

And he should feel lighter. Should feel fucking free.

But instead, there was just this—this hollow, gnawing feeling in his chest, a slow rot that no amount of whiskey could burn away.

He had told himself it was just sex. That it was just a game.

A messy, reckless game they both played, fully aware of the rules.

So why the fuck was he still thinking about her?

Why did he still hear her voice—sharp and furious, echoing in his ears like an accusation he couldn’t shake?

I don’t. Not anymore.

Why did he still see her face when he closed his eyes—not the smirking, defiant expression she always wore when they fought, but the way she had looked at him that night—raw, open, hurt.

Why the fuck did that bother him?

Harry scoffed under his breath, shaking his head, reaching for another drink.

Fuck that.

She’d be back.

She always came back.

Wouldn’t she?

The weeks passed.

She didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t show up at any more venues.

And no matter how many women he took home—no matter how many soft lips and unfamiliar hands he let touch him—it was never the same.

Because none of them were her.

None of them made him feel alive the way she did when she pushed him, when she fought him, when she stood her ground and refused to give in.

And for the first time, Harry realized—

He had fucked up.

Not just in the way he always did—careless, reckless, breaking things without thinking about the consequences.

No, this was different.

This was real.

This was Beth.

And he had let her slip through his fingers like she was nothing.

Like she hadn’t changed him.

Like she hadn’t fucking ruined him.

It took him weeks. Too many weeks.

Weeks of sleepless nights, of bitter drinks that burned as they went down, of meaningless encounters with women who weren’t her.

Weeks of ignoring the pit in his stomach whenever he reached for his phone and saw her name missing from his notifications.

Weeks of denying—lying to himself—until he couldn’t anymore.

Until it became impossible to pretend that this wasn’t more.

That she wasn’t everything.

So, he found her.

No cameras. No PR team carefully crafting the narrative. No staged apology meant to keep his image intact.

Just him.

Beth stood in the doorway of her apartment, eyes wary, lips pressed together like she wasn’t sure if she should slam the door in his face or let him inside just to yell at him.

She was in sweats, hair tied back, looking so soft and real and heartbreakingly beautiful that Harry had to clench his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching for her.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You really have no concept of boundaries, do you?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Would it help if I said I knocked first?”

Beth lifted a single, unimpressed brow.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

She sighed, exhaling heavily, fingers gripping the doorframe. “What do you want, Harry?”

Her voice was flat, tired—so fucking tired—and it hit him in the chest like a punch.

He did that.

He made her sound like that.

And maybe if she had been yelling, maybe if she had been angry, it would have been easier.

But this?

This quiet disappointment, this absence of fire, of fight—this was worse.

Because it meant she had already decided to let him go.

And he couldn’t have that.

He wouldn’t.

Harry swallowed, licking his lips, feeling the words crawl up his throat, unfamiliar and foreign and terrifying.

“I was afraid,” he admitted, voice rough, uneven. “You got too close.”

Beth’s gaze flickered, but she didn’t speak.

Didn’t stop him either.

“I didn’t—I don’t—” He let out a slow breath, shifting his weight. “You were supposed to be temporary, Beth.” His voice cracked on her name. “And I don’t want temporary anymore.”

Her eyes softened. Just a little.

But she didn’t let him off the hook.

Not yet.

She folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head. “So what? You came all this way just to tell me that?”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

“And now you expect me to just—what? Forget everything? Pretend like you didn’t throw me to the wolves the second things got hard?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t expect that.”

Beth exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment before she looked at him again, and fuck, he felt stripped bare under her gaze.

“I was falling for you,” she whispered, the words barely audible but lethal. “And you made me feel like I was nothing.”

His stomach dropped.

“I know,” he rasped. “And I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, Beth.”

She didn’t speak, but her fingers trembled where they curled around her sleeve.

Harry took a step closer.

Then another.

Until she was right there, close enough to touch, but he didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, he just let himself be seen—raw, vulnerable, desperate in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice low, uneven. “But I want to try. I want you.”

Beth swallowed hard, blinking quickly, like she was trying to hold something back.

“Say it again.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

Harry took a breath, steady and sure.

“I want you.”

Beth let out a shaky exhale, something breaking, fracturing between them—but this time, it wasn’t falling apart.

It was falling into place.

She didn’t answer.

Not with words.

But when she finally reached for him, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him down, letting him in—

He knew.

She wanted him too.

-

This isn’t like before.

It’s not fueled by resentment, not tangled in frustration or sharp-edged words.

It’s not an attempt to silence their own thoughts or to claim victory in an unwinnable battle.

This time, it’s different.

Because this time, they’re choosing each other.

And neither of them wants to pretend anymore.

It’s quiet.

Not the uneasy, tension-laced silence they used to share, but something softer. He’s brought her here—to his real place, not some impersonal hotel room or a shadowy corner where they could disappear without consequence.

It’s his space.

Dim lighting from the city outside filters through half-drawn blinds, painting warm, golden stripes across the floor. The air is thick, heavy with something unspoken, the echoes of every past moment clinging to the walls.

No noise from the outside world.

Just them.

And for the first time, that’s all they need.

They stand close but don’t touch—not yet.

It’s strange, this carefulness between them, this slow, deliberate restraint. For so long, everything between them has been about force, about taking, about dominance wrapped in lust.

But now—

His fingers reach for her, hesitant but certain, trailing the line of her jaw with an aching kind of reverence.

No roughness. No bruising grip.

Just a slow, featherlight touch, like he’s memorizing her, like he’s afraid to move too fast.

Beth’s breath stutters. She tilts her face into his touch, just barely, just enough to tell him that she wants this too.

When she opens her eyes, he’s already watching her.

Already waiting.

Already sure.

When he kisses her, it’s nothing like before.

Not an attempt to overpower, not a silent demand for control.

It’s soft.

Tentative, at first—like he’s rediscovering her, learning the shape of her lips, savoring her warmth. A slow slide of mouths, the quiet exhale of breath mingling between them.

And then—

The restraint fractures.

A low, desperate groan rumbles in his chest, and his hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, molding her against him. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, but it’s not about possession anymore.

It’s need.

It’s want.

It’s everything they’ve never allowed themselves to feel.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him down into her, and he lets her. Lets her take as much as she wants.

He doesn’t rush.

Doesn’t tear at her clothes like before, doesn’t drag fabric over her skin like it’s just another obstacle to get through.

He takes his time.

Fingers skimming her shoulders, down the length of her arms, over her ribs. He lingers, watching her, drinking her in like he’s seeing her for the first time.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough with something raw, something that sounds like awe.

Her breath catches.

She should feel exposed. Vulnerable.

But the heat in his gaze doesn’t make her feel bare.

It makes her feel wanted.

She reaches for him then, pulling at his shirt, sliding her hands over warm, firm skin, feeling the steady, grounding beat of his heart beneath her palms.

He lets her undress him too.

No rush. No urgency.

Just this.

Just them.

He takes his time.

Worships her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, exploring every inch like he’s memorizing her, like he never wants to forget the way she feels beneath him.

His fingers trace the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the softness of her inner thigh.

He doesn’t hurry.

Doesn’t just take.

He gives.

She fists the sheets when he drags his mouth lower, when he pauses to watch her reaction, when he smirks against her skin at the way she shifts, needy, impatient.

She doesn’t want to beg. Not this time.

But when his mouth finally touches her, warm and devastatingly slow—

She does.

He doesn’t rush her to the edge.

He builds it.

His mouth works her over with precision, savoring every shudder, every gasp, every quiet, breathless plea.

His hands hold her open, steadying her, grounding her, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

He watches her the entire time.

Doesn’t look away.

Not when she trembles.

Not when she cries out his name.

Not when she finally, finally falls apart beneath him.

He just holds her gaze, dark and unwavering, like he’s making damn sure she knows—

This means something.

When he finally slides into her, it’s different.

No rough, frantic pace. No bruising hands.

Just this.

Just the slow, deliberate push of his hips, deep and measured, drawing a gasp from her lips.

He stills for a moment, presses his forehead against hers, breathing her in, grounding himself in the feel of her.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, her nails dragging lightly over his skin.

Not clawing.

Not marking.

Just holding.

He moves then.

Not just fucking—making love.

Every slow thrust feels like a confession.

Every whispered “mine” against her lips feels like a promise.

And this time—

She doesn’t fight it.

She lets him have her.

And takes him in return.

No rush to leave.

No scramble for clothes.

No silence.

Just this.

Just them, tangled in sheets that smell like them, his arms heavy around her, his fingers tracing slow, mindless patterns against her back.

For the first time, he stays.

For the first time, she lets him.

There’s a pause. A deep, quiet moment where neither of them speaks.

Then—

“You’re mine now, aren’t you?”

His voice is quiet. Certain.

Beth doesn’t hesitate.

She shifts closer, presses her lips against his jaw, and breathes him in.

“Yeah, Harry.”

A slow smile tugs at his lips.

She watches it spread, watches the tension leave his body, watches the way he finally lets himself believe it.

“I am.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist:

@oscahpastry, @mema10, @angelbabyyy99, @iloveharrystyles04, @cinemharry, @drwho06, @donutsandpalmtrees, @panini, @mads3502; @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa, @one-sweet-gubler, @rizosrizos26, @ciriceimpera, @everyscarisahealingplace, @hello-heyhi, @sexymfharriet, @lizsogolden, @hannah9921, @chicabonitasblog, @huhidontknowstuff, @berrywoods1245, @jennovaaa, @angeldavis777, @prettygurl-2009, @almostcontentcreator, @run-for-the-hills, @maudie-duan, @dipmeinhoneyh, @harrrrystylesslut, @georgiarose94, @stylestarkey, @watarmelon212, @ hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east

[thatonegreenleaf]

~urban haze~ reshade preset!

I've been using this preset on my twitch for a bit now, and i've finally gotten around to releasing it!! I'm very happy with it and I currently use it for everything😅

Urban haze has a focus on realistic lighting with a slight hazy and warm feel. Less blue in shadows, darker nights, deeper afternoon shadows, saturated sunsets, balanced greenery. Use it in any world, I've tested them all :)

__________________________________________

How to download:

♥ Download Reshade: (I use reshade 5.7.0, I can't say how this preset will behave with other versions of reshade, or G-shade.)

♥ During Reshade Installation, select The Sims 4, choose DirectX9 as the rendering API.

♥ Effect Packages to install: standard effects, sweetFX by CeeJay, qUINT by Marty McFly, color effects by prod80, and Legacy effects.

♥ Download urban haze below, drop it in your Sims 4 installation's "Bin" Folder

♥ Open the Sims 4, Disable edge-smoothing in your graphics settings if it's not already, In the reshade menu, set RESHADE_DEPTH_INPUT_IS_REVERSED= to 0 in global preprocessor definitions if it's not, and MXAO_TWO_LAYER= and MXAO_SMOOTHNORMALS= both to 1 in qUINT_mxao's preprocessor's definitions.

♥ If you're struggling with installation, I suggest you check out @kindlespice's installation tutorial! It was made for reshade 4.9.0 but the instructions remain the same.

__________________________________________

Notes:

♥ Both Depth of field shaders are off by default, you can enable them using their shortcuts: ctrl + Q (MagicDOF), ctrl + W (MartyMcFlyDOF) or enable them manually.

♥ MXAO.fx also has a shortcut (ctrl + R) bc sometimes the DOF blur makes the shadows weird, most of the time it's fine!

♥ Could potentially be gameplay friendly, depending on your GPU! The MXAO and DOF shaders will be the most performance heavy, feel free to adjust to your liking.

♥ The pictures above were taken with this preset and no further editing, but I do use a few lighting mods that will affect how my game looks:

♥ NoBlu by Luumia

♥ NoGlo by Luumia

♥ twinkle toes by softerhaze

URBAN HAZE RESHADE PRESET ↠ download on sim file share!

Follow me on twitch!

Support me on patreon!

TOU: do not redistribute, reupload, or claim my cc/CAS rooms/presets as your own! recolour/convert/otherwise alter for personal use OR upload with credit. (no paywalls)

[mechncheese]

Science Cont Yapping

Character Concepts, Ideas, Possible things, oh my ! Mostly putting this out here to discuss my thought process, you can have a look into my mind if you'd like and lmk what you think !

OK ! So I think I've sorted how I'm going to go about the science continuity ! I'm thinking that I'll split it into two (like how IDW Robots in Disguise and MTMTE take place during the same time but follow two different storylines and eventually fit back together). So we have Science AU Ambition - following Jetfire, Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Perceptor stuck on the moon of Ambition trying to accomplish their mission (finding a way to restore Cybertron + returning home)

Science AU Cybertron - an anthology following various different characters as they struggle to fight a war on a dying Cybertron

Brainstorm and Prowl start out on Cybertron but eventually make their way to where Jetfire and the others are.

I'm still trying to keep this on a small scale but omg it's so hard when I want to do so much and there's so many characters and moving parts.

But here are some fun stuffs; character concepts !

Women have arrived ! I heavily changed Lifeline from her G1 version.

Design wise; I drastically changed her, I wanted to give her a bigger build, I think I could've definitely pushed it a bit more but I want Quickslinger to have a vastly different and heavier build compared to her.

here's what I have in mind for Lifeline;

She works with her bodyguard and assistant Quickslinger and their job is to stabilize critically injured bots on the battlefield so they can be brought back to the base's Medbay, First Aid and Red Alert can handle the rest.

Lifeline is their superior while Ratchet is away and she's more experienced than First and Red. First Aid wants to be a field medic as well but Lifeline keeps telling him no, mostly because he's too inexperienced and she's low-key scared something is going to happen to him because well. They lost Pharma and Ambulon.

In terms of personality, Lifeline is more serious and exhaustion from working has drained her. Fighting is not her forte nor is it something she wishes to participate in, but if push comes to shove she'll immobilize her opponents with the electromagnetic pulse in her palms or she'll just sick Quickslinger on them. She's desensitized to a lot of the horrors on the battlefield and someone needs to give her a paid vacation asap.

Oh also Minerva will be here eventually she's another medic, she mostly works with making the medicine.

Of course, Miss Arcee is here too, she goes on scouting patrols with Bumblebee and Hotrod and they're besties. I imagine they all have a more sibling dynamic with one another.

Arcee I imagine is a mix of Cyberverse and Earthspark in terms of personality, she's chipper, fun to be around, and shows her affection through punching. Arcee has a big heart and that is both a strength and weakness, she would not hesitate to throw herself in recklessly into combat if it meant protecting her allies. She's more a melee type of fighter and uses her speed to her advantage. I kept her design relatively simple and kept her pinks light since I wanted Elita-1 to have darker pinks.

Hear me out guys,, what if Thundercracker was an Autobot ? I'm biased but PLEASE !! THUNDERCRACKER !!

I changed his outlier ability to be more electrical based. As for his defection from the Decepticons.. I imagine he was nonaligned for a while but realized he can't survive alone, then Bumblebee's scouting team found him on a patrol and brought him in. His place on the Elite Trine has been replaced by Slipstream, so it's now Starscream, Skywarp and Slipstream. Haven't worked out the details but I'll cross that bridge when I get there, but they're pissed about Thundercracker, trust.

Thundercracker works with Windblade and Cosmos as Autobot Air Support.

moving forward I do want to try and push bot body types more I FEEL LIKE I SUFFER A LOT FROM SAME BOT SYNDROME I have to change that-- I'm better about it when I'm working with organic characters but something about mechas is just such a different learning curve

[urno1luv]

Can you please make the puppy gf yunjin into a full fic/imagine including the things you already said in the short you posted? 🙏🙏🙏

encountering a clingy puppy hybrid called yunjin and falling in love with her, despite her weird and often creepy antics -◇

tags: clingy yunjin, breaking in, she's lowkey a creep (but not a perverted one), obsessive?, desperate sex (gp and non gp versions)

The first time Yunjin noticed you, her world tilted. Her floppy ears perked up, her pupils dilated, and her tail wagged in excitement. Something about you—the way you smiled shyly at your friend, the way your voice carried across the room—made her chest ache in ways she didn’t understand. It wasn’t love at first sight. It was more than that.

From then on, Yunjin became a shadow in your life, always lingering just a step behind, like a lost puppy. At first, you thought it was sweet. She’d always find you during breaks, showing up with your favorite snacks or insisting on walking you to your next class, her arm in yours. Her presence was magnetic—warm, comforting. You didn’t notice how tightly her fingers gripped your arm when she pulled you closer, or how her smile faded the moment someone else tried to talk to you.

But then, the texts started.

“Where are you?”

“Who are you with?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

You’d barely reply before your phone buzzed again, another question, another demand. The messages came at all hours, and when you didn’t respond, she’d call—her voice breathless, almost panicked.

“I was worried,” she’d say, her tone dripping with sweetness, though there was an edge to her words that made you uneasy.

One evening, as you were heading home, you spotted Yunjin waiting outside your door. She wasn’t supposed to know where you lived...😰

“Yunjin?” you asked, trying to mask the surprise in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled, holding up a bag, her canines shining through her genuine smile. “You mentioned you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you soup. I just wanted to take care of you.”

It was a thoughtful gesture, but the way her warm eyes bore into yours made your skin prickle.

“Thanks, but… how did you know where I live?”

Her smile widened. “Oh, I asked around. It wasn’t hard.”

You didn’t have the heart to turn away such a sweet girl, but as she followed you inside, something about her presence felt suffocating. She hovered too close, her eyes flicking to every detail in your home as if she were memorizing it. You noticed how she made sure to rub her cheek on your neck... was she scenting you?

That night, after she left, you found a strand of her hair on your pillow.

Days turned into weeks, and Yunjin’s behavior grew more intense. She started showing up unannounced more often, always with an excuse—she’d forgotten something at your place, or she just wanted to see you. She knew your schedule better than you did, waiting for you after classes, walking you home, always there, always watching. Her yearning gaze would follow you in a way that made your stomach twist.

When you tried to set boundaries, Yunjin brushed them off with a laugh, acting as if you were joking.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she teased, but her tone was laced with something darker. To make a point, she suddenly bit your wrist, hard enough to leave a mark, giggling at your yelping.

One day, you decided to take a different route home, hoping for a moment of peace. But as you turned the corner, you found her waiting at the end of the street, her smile too perfect, too knowing.

“You didn’t think I’d lose track of you, did you?” she asked, tilting her head. Her voice was light, but her eyes burned with something that made your heart race.

You tried to brush it off, but Yunjin’s presence only became more suffocating. She started leaving notes in your bag, little love letters written in her elegant handwriting.

“You’re mine,” one read.

“We belong together,” said another.

---◇

The final straw came when you woke up one night to find her sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Yunjin?!” you gasped, scrambling back against the headboard.

She tilted her head, in pure puppy fashion, her expression unnerving you. “You left your window unlocked,” she said, as if that explained everything. “I got worried when you didn’t text me back. I couldn’t sleep not knowing if you were okay.”

Her fevour and devotion for you sent a chill down your spine. You tried to steady your voice. “Yunjin, this… this isn’t normal. You can’t just come into my house like this.”

Her smile faltered, and for a moment, something flickered in her eyes—hurt, anger, desperation.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Don’t you see? You’re my everything. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind racing as you tried to figure out how to get her to leave. But before you could speak, she leaned closer, her hands softly holding your face, her warm hands and heavy breathing soothing your panic slightly.

“You don’t have to be scared,” she whispered. “I’ll always take care of you. Always.”

Her words sounded more like a promise than reassurance, and as she stood to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

The door clicked shut behind her, but her presence lingered—an invisible weight pressing down on you. You stared at the window she’d used to sneak in, your heart pounding as you realized she would never let you go.

when you fall in love ---◇

- despite her overwhelming presence, Yunjin’s softer moments make your heart flutter. the way she looks at you, like you’re her entire world, becomes addictive.

- her obsessive attention to detail feels flattering at times—she remembers everything about you, from your favorite coffee order to the way you like your books organized.

- when she clings to your arm or rests her head on your shoulder, you feel a strange sense of comfort, like you’re her safe place.

- her determination to always take care of you becomes endearing, especially when she shows up with things you didn’t realize you needed, like an umbrella on a rainy day or soup when you’re sick.

- you catch yourself smiling when she texts you goodnight every single night without fail, her messages filled with warmth and affection.

- the intensity in her gaze when she talks to you makes your stomach flip—it’s like she’s silently telling you how much you mean to her.

- over time, her possessiveness starts to feel less threatening and more like she’s terrified of losing you, which makes you want to protect her in return.

- her vulnerability during emotional moments tugs at your heart; the way her voice shakes when she says, “I can’t lose you,” makes you realize how much she needs you.

- the little notes she leaves for you, filled with sweet words and doodles, make your chest feel warm. you keep them tucked away, unable to throw them out.

- one day, when she shyly confesses how deeply she feels for you, her honesty is so raw and sincere that you can’t help but fall for her too. And now you're girlfriends let's gooo🗣‼️

how sex with yunjin is like (non gp version) -◇

- she NEEDS close contact,so she makes sure to have you extremely close when fucking. any position where she doesn't see your face? she's NOT doing it, always whining and grumbling in your ear when she fucks you with her favourite navy blue strap from behind, but you suggested doing it in front of a mirror, and that was the best day of her life. the mascara running down your face, drool running down your chin, and it turns out it's not so bad!!! bc she can lean down and mark your back whenever she wants!! your sessions always end in you flinching in pain when you feel her bite marks, but yunjin won't let you sit in pain for too long!! no no!! she has the BEST aftercare in the world🤞🤞

- praises you ALL the time. she hates degrading you, doesn't like the idea of even disrespecting you, even if you want it😭she definitely says stuff along the lines of:

"C'mon baby, just one more, give me one more doll, i know you can. I know you can do it for me."

"You're so pretty underneath me like this, d'ya know that?"

"Ugh, you feel so fucking good, you're so fucking wet for me, you like that, y/nnie?"

- certified service dom, and ur her lucky pillow princess

- she will scream and throw a tantrum if she doesn't get to taste you on her tongue for at least 2 hours a day. yunjinnie begs all day for you, following you around your house. even at college she would ask to have you. "please, pleaseeee? you're not being a good girlfriend right now."

- when she doesn't get what she wants she wants talk to you at all, until you give it to her. and so you reluctantly do, and that was a mistake. she doesn't let you go until she's positive that you can't walk or talk and your brain scrambled. when there's saliva everywhere, and your clit is sore and an angry shade of red, the 9th orgasm gushing out of your pussy, and your body limp?? she's accomplished her life's purpose.

(gp version) -◇

- desperate as fuck. her breeding kink is absolutely uncontrollable. she would bend you over the kitchen counter, smacking your ass while pulling your panties off (you dont bother wearing clothes around her because shes going to rip them off anyway). she'd push her dick into your pussy, and when she feels you clench around her tip, she already feels like she's in heaven. she wpuld pump her hot, thick cum into you until youre gripping the edge of the counter, panting heavily.

- marking you everywhere. your neck, your waist, your belly, your shoulders, your wrist, your thighs, your pu-

- she lives for the sound you make when you gag on her fat cock... quickly thrusting deep, so that your nose is pressed against her tummy, and her heavy balls slap against your chin as she repeatedly fucks your face without warning

- like the non gp version, she prefers to see your face, and positions like mating press are the best in her opinion!! that's where her cock hits the deepest, and filling your pussy up with her semen is the only thought in her mind rn🤞🤞

[igotthis-egg]

V concepts! I should probably do little colored character sheets for every design I make, but alas, I’m not good with consistency. I’m not even sure if I’ll end up making the comic in color, but I wanted to figure out what her human hair and eye colors would be. She looks a bit similar to N, but his eyes are a darker blue and he has lighter blonde hair. J will look a lot different than both of them. I’m going to have to draw vampire V later, though I think you guys can get a feel of what she would look like already (pointed ears, fangs, slit irises, yellow eyes, etc.)

Alternate version with tinted glasses. My own glasses are a bit yellow tinted as well (I think for screen usage, can’t remember) and I also thought it would be great foreshadowing for what she’s going to become!

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

That is so nice of you honestly, i think the the ask was how a yan alucard would take advantage of his position of power in the village post season 4, and if he and the people(the villages people, the orphans, sypha and Trevor) around him would pressure his fem love interest/obsession into being with him because of all he has done for them making it very difficult to reject his advances with out becoming a social outcast .Like I can imagine a darker version of him proposing to his Darling in a public space surrounded by the aforementioned people and villagers for that very reason. And side note do you think he would turn his Darling so they could be together for ever?

A/N: Yes, oh my gosh, yes! A Yandere! Alucard would 100% use his position of power over her to gently “guide” her into falling for him. And I do think, that yes, a Yandere! Alucard would eventually try to turn his Darling. I like to think that it might take some extra dark magic, as he is not a full vampire, but that he goes down that path willingly for her (regardless of how she feels about it) because once he falls, he falls hard, and he cannot imagine living without her.

TW: Toxic/Manualpative Relationship, and Brief Mentions of Sex and Pregnancy 

Yandere! Village Leader Alucard Headcanons: 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who always insists on “helping” his Darling, and whatever group she happens to be in. ‘Ah, you’re on kitchen duty today. Well it's a good thing that my Mother taught me to cook.’ & ‘Barn raising? Surely your tiny frame is no match for such a strenuous job. Here, allow me.’ 

You don’t like feeling helpless, but you couldn’t say ‘no’. That would be such a rude thing to deny the very Savior of your people. 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard, who is always so kind, and attentive. One who chooses to spend most of the free time he has at gatherings putting the spotlight on his Darling so that he may listen to her speak. ‘Hmm, what an interesting Speaker tradition, Sypha. Tell me, (Y/N), what sort of traditions remind you of home?’ 

You’re running out of things to share with him, it seems everything you could say about yourself he seems to already know.

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who memorizes every little detail his Darling shares, and uses it to his advantage, all the while pretending such occurrences are mere coincidence. ‘I found these flowers blooming on the other side of the castle and I thought of you. Truly? How lucky, I had no idea these were your favorite flowers.’ & ‘Hmm, now that you mention it, I believe Mother had an old dress in that color. Why don’t you wait here while I go and fetch it for you?’ 

The dress fits perfectly, huh. How odd that you and Alucard’s mother must have been the same size. 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who “lets it slip” in conversation with Trevor and Sypha just how madly in love he is with his Darling, prompting his married friends to conspire together, coming up with ways to make you see Alucard’s love. ‘I can only hope she shares the same affection, although I must admit, I am unsure of how to tell her of my feelings.’ ‘& ‘Do you mean to say you’ll help me win her devotion?’ 

Did Sypha always talk up Alucard like that? Trevor sure keeps talking an awful lot about being married, even for a newlywed. 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who always speaks your praises to the children, about how smart, loving, and fun you are so that when they call on him to play games, they’re always scheming to get you to play as well. ‘I must admit I’ve pondered over whether I have the ability to have my own.’ & ‘Don’t believe I haven’t seen the way you light up when the children call you Mother.’ 

Wait? Don’t they also call Alucard, Father?

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who insists on caring for you by himself, anytime you become the least bit injured or ill. He insists you stay within the walls of the castle for the time being, as opposed to in your cottage with your family outside. ‘I know the castle can feel overwhelming at times, but please, try to think of it as a mere extension of your home.’ & ‘I do wish you’d let me take better care of you, Darling. You’re too important of a person around here to be laid out sick so often.’ 

You didn't used to fall ill so often. What the hell is happening to you?!

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who makes a very public display of asking for your hand, one evening during a solstice festival. All eyes are on you as you smile, and you a faint chorus of applause as you accept the dhampir’s proposal. ‘It would be my utmost honor to marry you, my Darling.’ & ‘You are making me the happiest man alive.’ 

Not as if you could say no with all the other villagers and your family watching. They want this for you too, so, this marriage must be a good idea, right?

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who arranges for you to be wed as soon as possible. One of the castle’s largest halls is transformed into a makeshift chapel as Sypha performs the wedding rites. Greta acts as your Maiden of Honor, while Alucard slots Trevor in as his Best Man. All of the villagers- your family included- are there to watch the ceremony, with laughter and joyful tears in their eyes. ‘I know it’s not a church wedding, Darling. But you understand, I doubt we’d find a Priest anywhere willing to marry the son of Dracula.’ 

You look like royalty in the dress Alucard provided you, so you try to ignore how the cuffs of your dress’s bishop sleeves feel like weighted shackles upon your wrists. 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who promises you can’t get pregnant the first time you have sex. He’d know of course, silly! His Mother was a Doctor after all. Just let him love you… No, let him worship you, mind, body, and soul. ‘Besides, I’m quite certain dhampirs are sterile. It would take a miracle for us to make a child together.’ & ‘Even if it were to happen, it’s not the end of the world, is it? We are wedded after all.’  

If that’s not a goal, why does he insist on always flipping you over so that he can watch your expression as he finishes inside you? 

A Yandere! Village Leader Alucard who swears you will make incredible parents, and he could not be happier to have a large family with you. You have so much knowledge and wisdom to impart, creating this legacy with him is a great act of service for the world. And Alucard promises, as soon as you’re done having his children, maybe two or three, he’ll change you into a vampire so that you can enjoy the fruits of your labor at his side- forever. ‘Just imagine it, Darling. Neither one of us will be lonely ever again.’ & ‘We’ll be each other’s soulmate for all eternity.’ 

Surely, eternity isn’t all that long. 

Right?

A/N: I hope you liked it! I was trying a different style/format here, so I apologize if it isn't what you expected. My mom’s having surgery this week, so I didn’t get as much writing/editing time as expected. 

Please Like, Leave and Comment, and REBLOG if you enjoyed it!

Like My Work? Wanna See More? Tip Me on Kofi! <3

[angelfleurry]

Horror Movies With the DRV3 Boys!:

Hello my loves. I'm so sorry, I know I have requests, but I'm just putting some stuff out for Halloween. Currently in a bit of a writer's block, so I'm awfully sorry for the wait.

Rantaro Amami!:

♡ Oh, he’s PREPARED.

♡ You want snacks? BOOM.

♡ Water? Tea? Some kind of drink? BAM.

♡ Blankets? TADA.

♡ He has it all, he’s so down.

♡ If you’re comfy with it, he likes to have some sort of hold on you the entire time.

♡ Could be intertwining your fingers, having you lean into him or vice versa, something, anything.

♡ He’s honestly really chill in the sense of watching a film.

♡ You can put whatever horror movie you’d like on, he’ll watch.

♡ Makes very hushed comments, as if he’s talking to himself.

♡ Likes to glance over every now and again to see how you’re coping.

♡ If he gets startled by something, he’ll react, but it’s swift.

♡ He’ll flinch, maybe make a noise, and then chuckle it off.

♡ Always chuckles at your reactions.

♡ Unless you’re genuinely upset by something, then he’ll check on you.

♡ If not, he’ll just ask in a light-hearted manner.

♡ He knows you’re fine, but he can’t help but address it.

♡ Thinks it’s cute.

Ryoma Hoshi!:

♡ If motionless was a person, it would be Ryoma.

♡ Is he startled? Is he regretting agreeing to watch this? Is he struggling?

♡ Or, is he enjoying it?

♡ It’s hard to tell.

♡ Impossible, even.

♡ The only way you can really tell he’s alive is when he lets out a smug chuckle or makes a tutting sound, depending on what’s going on.

♡ It all depends on the type of horror movie, too.

♡ I feel like he’d really enjoy Halloween, but can definitely stomach more darker horror films.

♡ Doesn’t mean he likes them though.

♡ Definitely has seen the Chucky movies.

♡ Doesn’t pander to your fright, but he finds it amusing.

♡ He honestly really enjoys watching horror films with you.

♡ It’s nice to be able to tune out from the world and engage in fiction, especially if you’re next to him.

Korekiyo Shinguji!:

♡ I feel like on his own, he does not really watch much media, especially horror.

♡ But, should you introduce him to it, he’ll sit down and observe.

♡ Even if it’s a more grotesque or disturbing film, he still holds a bit of admiration at how creative humanity can be to conjure up films of such nature.

♡ Is definitely a fan of older horror films, as well as films that are more psychologically/emotionally horrifying.

♡ This might just be me projecting, but I feel like Korekiyo would have a soft spot for Carrie.

♡ The 70’s version though, it cannot be beaten.

♡ It’s such an artistic film full of extreme emotion, as well as clear human error, that I really do feel like he would have a bias for it.

♡ It touches a part of his soul, in all honesty.

♡ It would likely be a favourite of his to watch with you should you ever want to watch something.

♡ In his opinion, it’s more of a tragedy than a horror.

♡ The man hardly gets visibly scared.

♡ It’s hard to tell what expression he bares due to the mask, but if you look up at his eyes, or listen in on his breathing, you’ll figure out if he’s scared or not.

♡ I imagine Korekiyo’s unpredictable when it comes to movies, especially horror movies.

♡ He might allow a quick comment, but for the most part I feel he is silent.

♡ However, should the movie present a topic, culture, or place he has knowledge of, he will explain.

♡ I feel like he sits incredibly still during horror movies, so you’ll probably have to hold him first if you want contact.

Gonta Gokuhara!:

♡ Is it a good idea to let Gonta watch a horror film?

♡ You’re not one to baby him, but…

♡ Oh well, if the day would ever come, it would be because he would ask.

♡ And, one day, he did.

♡ “Y/N, Gonta overhear that couples are meant to watch scary movies together, especially on Halloween…”

♡ “Yeah, that’s right.” you’d told him, nodding slightly in confirmation, “Is that something you wanted to do?”

♡ “If Y/N is happy to, then yes! Gonta would very much like to.”

♡ You smiled at that, but felt the need to ask:

♡ “Would you be comfortable watching those sorts of films?”

♡ At his conflicted hesitation, you felt the need to talk again.

♡ “We can always turn it off if you don’t like it.”

♡ Gonta smiled, he liked the sound of that.

♡ And, surely enough, you had to.

♡ He gave it a try, though, and that’s something you really appreciated.

♡ You did manage to sit through Cujo with him, however.

♡ He cried, but he didn’t want to turn it off.

♡ Lots of cuddles were in order after that.

♡ I imagine he tried to be all romantic and make tea for you both.

♡ He’s glad he gave it a try though, and he thanks you for being there with him.

♡ Gonta has a lot of empathy, so horror films aren’t really the best thing to watch with him.

♡ He’s able to feel the fear, the sadness, the pain.

♡ He also feels as if he is watching existing people die.

♡ He’s aware that they’re not real people, but they’re being played by real people, and it feels real, so it’s enough to frighten him.

♡ Makes him feel helpless, he wants to help but he can’t.

♡ Please put a bug documentary on afterwards, or something calming.

♡ Scoop him into a cuddle and he’ll be alright.

Kokichi Ouma!:

♡ Give this man a psychological horror movie and he’s SORTED.

♡ Absolutely loves it.

♡ It’s hard to tell what his opinion on the more gorey movies are.

♡ He sits through them, and will even suggest watching them, but he’ll also judge the heck out of them.

♡ Has commented on how excessive they are as well.

♡ So it’s hard to tell if he enjoys them or not.

♡ Films like Saw or Room 1408 will have him in a chokehold, but he always has something to say.

♡ Also really likes the Chucky franchise.

♡ If he gets scared, no he didn’t.

♡ He can loudly scream or jolt upright, but you didn’t see or hear that.

♡ Loves to have a pillow wedged between his arms.

♡ Has definitely snuck away when you’re engrossed in the film to try and scare you.

♡ Cannot stay still for the life of him - he’s always fidgeting!

♡ I can’t see him being one for cuddling during these films, at least not constantly.

♡ Every now and then he’ll throw himself around you, maybe make a remark on the film as he does so, and then randomly sit back up.

♡ Sometimes he won’t do it at all.

♡ Just depends on how he’s feeling.

♡ Is very obnoxious should he have a drink with him.

♡ Those grape Panta cans will be clicking and hissing, just so you know.

♡ Teases you if you react to any scenes.

♡ He’s a merciless hypocrite like that.

Kaito Momota!:

♡ He’ll definitely big himself up as being able to stomach the genre.

♡ “Don’t you worry, starlight, you can hold on to me!”

♡ But, give him fifteen minutes and he’s beginning to get twitchy.

♡ He’ll probably subtly scoot closer to you, but it’s not because he’s scared totally! Sure! Why would he be scared?

♡ Does the stereotypical guy thing where he leans an arm to wrap around you.

♡ If you look at him afterwards, he’ll act as if he’s doing it for your sake.

♡ No, no. He’s doing it for him.

♡ Cannot sit through ghost movies, he gets a little paranoid.

♡ Even Casper the Friendly Ghost made him nervous at first, so it is probably for the best you stay away from ghost-related movies.

♡ I think he’d be fine with slasher films though.

♡ It just depends on how much comedic effect is thrown in with it.

♡ Cuddling with him is nice, though.

♡ Regardless as to if you get scared easily or not, you’re not gonna pass up the chance to be close to your boyfriend.

Kiibo Idabashi!:

♡ He’s squeamish.

♡ Knows fully well that it is all fiction, but he’ll be processing everything for days after.

♡ “Y/N! Look what they did, look what’s happening!”

♡ He is very vocal should it just be the two of you watching a film.

♡ It’s nice, it’s like your own personal commentator.

♡ Has researched what to do when watching horror movies with his partner.

♡ Likes touching shoulders with you, it gives him a sense of security; keeps him in reality.

♡ Has and will continue to close his eyes during certain scenes.

♡ “Tell me when it’s over!”

♡ He can laugh about his fear afterwards, giggling slightly as he thanks you.

♡ You both scream in unison, it’s quite funny.

♡ If you scream, it’ll set him off.

♡ If Kiibo screams, it could set you off.

♡ And then you’re both screaming before laughing within the next heartbeat.

Shuichi Saihara!:

♡ Shuichi’s a detective, he’s seen some things.

♡ This means that, surprisingly, he’s not as squeamish as one would expect when watching a horror film.

♡ He’ll still find some things disturbing though, and his facial expressions give him away.

♡ Subconsciously clings to you during these moments, and you welcome it.

♡ If something’s incorrect, he’ll point it out.

♡ Then, he realises he’s pointing it out, and worries he’s coming off as too harsh.

♡ But, he’s already said it all, so you just prompt him into explaining why it’s incorrect.

♡ It’s nice to have him explain stuff over an uncomfortable scene, it takes away the edge.

♡ Always makes sure you’re okay with what’s playing.

♡ Cuddles are a given, or just some form of physical contact.

♡ You two share a blanket, and he repeatedly asks if you’ve got enough.

♡ Gives you more blanket than he gives himself, bless him.

♡ Even if you two aren’t effected by the movie, you always like to do something gentle on the mind afterwards.

♡ This could be reading a book side by side, or watching a calm movie, or even just talking.

♡ It’s nice.

♡ He’s nice.

♡ Love’s nice.

[indigodiskmybeloved]

MOCHI MOCHI, but it was a bit darker and REDRAWN!!

Hello everyone! I was in a creative mood, and redrew the VERY FIRST art I made on my blog which kindaaaa blew up. (You can see that post here.)

The info is still regularly the same, with the main character not existing, and the Paldea trio are being sent to Kitakami.

Nemona never found her rival, and upon being possessed, she goes from attentive and intuitive and loving battles to sluggish and stubborn, and will continue battling others even if they have no Pokemon left. And since Kieran, Carmine, and Geeta have to work to defeat her, she found her match.

Penny was never allowed to see their friends after Team Star still got expelled. Upon meeting Pechakeen, they go from prissy and timid to friendly and sociable, though that kindness is all just an act, and the chance they get, anyone they deem as a "bad guy" they'll ruthlessly bully and humiliate them. Since Carmine had drove Penny and the others off, Penny found the bully they could stand up to.

Arven still never was told about the incident in Area Zero, and with his Mabosstiff dying and his parents never around, Arven felt alone, left to deal with his negative self confidence. Upon meeting Pechakeen, he went from brash and unapproachable to apathetic and dramatic along with Sada's temper and Turo's emotional coldness. While the real Arven is still trapped in a false reality in his mind, this version of him never questions a thing, putting on this wimpy act until someone does something he doesn't like, and the temper comes flaring.

PLEASE!!! ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY AU!! Whether it be story changes, Paldea trio, whatever!!!

Mochi Desires AU is also getting a BIT of a rewrite so feel free to ask about that too!

[kedreeva]

This is for a story so it's not a huge deal (and there's already a bit of fantasy elements so I'm willing to handwave some stuff if necessary) but what would be the closest a peacock could get to hot pink? I saw purple morphs, but unfortunately my attempts at further research were inundated with AI slop and clickbait :(

Sooo, the closest that peafowl have CURRENTLY gotten to "pink" would probably be peach or European Violet.

Here is a good, light peach.

They are a very delicate, powder orange color. Genetically, they are cameo + purple, and the purple gene means they come in a paler version (light peach like above) and a darker version (dark peach or 'northern' peach as it's sometimes called, as it's often seen more in the northern US than the southern.... this could mean the variance is also more heavily affected by sun exposure, as sun exposure is less in the north). Here's what I mean by dark peach:

Your other "best bet" for current peafowl would be taupe, but taupe tends to be "cooler" than peach (ie, cold-color undertones, giving it a more "powder blue" feel than "powder orange" feel)

Here are a few Taupe birds in warm light

vs a taupe in cool light

Genetically, taupe is opal + purple, so you get a more grey look on them than the brighter cameo orange look.

Peach, being genetically a cameo, has no iridescence (it's "matte" in color), whereas taupe does still have some iridescence at least on the head.

Your other option is the european violet. While purples tend to look like strange blues in overcast weather, violets maintain their purple look even in dimmer lighting, and they tend to have a very "warm" purple compared to American purple's "cold" purple.

EV on an overcast day

vs american purple in shade

and EV in sun:

You can see a lot redder tones in the chest and wings than on purples.

So, those are what you'd be able to work with, for CURRENT birds. If there were a case of chromosomal crossover that could repeat to make "peach" but with cameo and EV, then maybe that bird would be pinker than peach.

But, what you ACTUALLY probably want, is a peafowl who has, like, erythrism and maybe pale leucism. Erythristic animals have high red phenotypes, and in some animals, like katydids, erythrism results in pink. Like HOT pink.

So a high-red animal would get you into the realm of at least having reds, if not just having pinks from the get-go, and then pale leucism does what it says on the tin and lightens colors over the whole body of the bird. In peafowl, you miiiiight get away with this effect using the silver white eye gene (the white eye allele that causes body "silvering" ie pale leucism effect.

For example, here's a cardinal with pale leucism:

So that's kinda where I would start with it. Erythrism + pale leucism.

But for peafowl, you would need to consider that RED as pigment is a really uncommon pigment for birds to produce all on their own. Cardinals and flamingos largely get their color from their diets (which are high in carotenoids), not necessarily by self-produced red pigments. There are some parrots who produce unique red pigments, but most of peafowl color comes from structural iridescence, not plain pigment.

So, any mutation that causes a difference in the structure of the barbules on the feathers could mean a fairly drastic change in the color we see on them (which is another important factor.... peafowl color includes ultraviolet spectrum that we don't see, but they do, so do your characters see into that spectrum? peafowl might already be pink to them). So rather than a gene that alters pigments, you could have a gene that alters feather structure. Stuff like satin in mice causes hollow fur and causes a mouse that looks shiny like it's made of satin. When peafowl get wet, their trains can look red or even fire orange.

[uranometrias]

wait for your love, spencer reid (pt. 2)

this is the second part to this. tysm for all the love on the first part, as well as all the new follows. this literally took so long, and i'm literally so sorry. i suck, but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. xx

you can read the alternate version for jj right here.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: following the dismissal of the case against the bureau, you're trying to get back into the swing of things. that moment of realization that comes with discovering the love you feel for someone else isn't reciprocates is never fun. but it's a truth you're meant to accept nonetheless, with a bit of help from your dearest friend spencer, you find that through a conversation about the realities of music and their hidden messages getting the courage to move on is not quite as difficult as you might have initially thought. especially when there's someone like spencer reid waiting on the other side. except of course, things always get difficult when it seems now as you're moving on, the past object of your desires is believed to feel the same way you always have.

content warnings: this is the sequel to angst lol. it's still very kind of angsty, but not as bad! it doesn't exactly end with spence/reader running off into the distance together, but i think it has a very bittersweet & sort of hopeful ending, which i felt made the most sense for a storyline like this. sometimes people have feelings for people that don't like them back, and sometimes it's just something we have to deal with.. sad but true. && i didn't want spence to seem like a rebound for reader, so i tried to go the route of her slowly putting the pieces together that maybe spence had romantic feelings for her && going from there. still spencer somewhat confesses his feelings for reader, hints that hotch might actually like reader, jj/reader reconciliation, because it needed to happen soz! she might have feelings for y/n too idk... she's kinda pulling everybody. this feels kinda melodramatic, but also idk i want epic romance vibes so i tried my best xx

i also love how hotch was such a focal part of this story and never physically showed up once... hmm.

tagged the people that asked for part 2 xx

@stvrlitsky , @cocopuff213 , @aaronhotchnerlover , @ofagathachristies , @blurpleuni-squid , @wolf-phoenix-lover , @babyspiderling , @queermaxwooo , @jihyowrrld , @minkyungseokie , @silentjudger , @btskzfav , @barbeddreams , @ah-blossom , @darker-december

It had been about a week since the court proceedings, you'd been more than a little surprised to find that you all managed to walk away scot free. You still hadn't managed to work up the courage to place your resignation papers on Hotch's desk, probably because you still hadn't gotten up the strength to face him or anyone else for that matter. You weren't outwardly abrasive, you'd offer small nods of greeting when you showed up in the morning, waves as you left.

But everyone knew that it wasn't the same.

Penelope had been trying to get you out for a night of bonding with her, Emily, and JJ, and you'd been keen on turning her down. You don't think you were quite there yet, the wound however surface level was still fresh. Looking at Emily, only reminded you of your grief, how much you had missed her. Looking at JJ only reminded you of how she hadn't had the courage necessary to tell you the truth. You'd tried to take their positions into account, look at things through a different view, but it hardly worked. You just wanted to be left alone.

Spencer was still the only one privy to the thoughts you had about ending your career at the FBI, and everyday he seemed to be holding his breath. It had become a habit to catch him staring at you with his face pinched up like he was deep in thought. It was partially why, even as your eyes skimmed over a file, you knew that he was looking in your direction. "Spence." you mutter quietly, eyes not quite meeting his as you highlighted something of importance in blue.

He sits at attention, back straight, eyes wide. He looked like a puppy that'd been caught doing something bad and was waiting for punishment. "You're doing it again." you exhale, and then you finally manage to peel your eyes from your work, eyebrow raising as you take him in tiredly. "Do you need something?" and he bares down on his bottom lip, almost as if he was thinking over his next move. He stands tall, grabbing hold of his chair and tugging it until it was planted on the other side of yours, before he sat down politely.

"Are you okay?" he's talking quietly, likely to salvage a bit of your privacy. You'd become a bit of a walking attraction in the bullpen, everyone seemed to follow every one of your actions with their eyes. You tap your highlighter against your desk, head tipping to the side as you scrutinize the man. You didn't know exactly what was going on with Spencer, but you had a small inkling, it was nothing more than an internal feeling if you were completely honest about it.

Your sister had been asking about him quite constantly lately, and after learning that day in the courtroom that for some odd reason the duo spoke over the phone, it made you pay a bit more attention to the certified genius than before. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just like I was when you asked me yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that." you keep your tone light, not wanting him to think that you were by any means annoyed with him. "What's going on?"

"I guess I keep waiting for you to disappear." he admits, head nodding involuntarily. "You're here right now, and you look fine." he continues, and you like listening to him, even if he was breaking one of the rules, and choosing to profile you. "So shouldn't things feel different? Better at least, like before?" he asks, and you don't expect that. Maybe he wasn't profiling you at all, and instead was expressing himself to a friend. "At least a little bit?" he asks, and you think it over.

"I don't think it'll ever be like before, Spence." and you hate to be the Betty Buzzkill, but it's as true as you can be. "How can it?" and Spencer's eyes jump across the room, landing on Emily who was not so subtly watching the two of you speak. You follow his gaze, and blink harshly when Emily's eyes connect with your own. It forces you to look right back at Spencer. He looks pensive, and you wonder how long he's been working up the courage to say more than 'Are you alright?'

"She was dead... and now suddenly she's not. That's great, but I grieved my friend, and maybe I'm not done grieving the Emily I knew before." and it's the first time you're admitting this aloud. "Our Emily, not the- Interpol Superspy." and you huff. "And look, I know I should be grateful, how many people get back the people they love after death?" and Spencer doesn't answer. "But is she really back? Is she really still our Emily? And how long before she's ready to pack up her stuff and take off? I'm not opening myself up to that again."

Spencer thinks your point is valid, he at one point had insisted that he had the worse abandonment issues on the team, but you had been right there through most of it. You were, in your own way protecting yourself from being hurt again. He couldn't fault you for that, none of them should. "I understand." and truthfully he does, and he's glad that at least you trust him enough to be upfront about it. "There's nothing wrong with shielding yourself from heartache, I just don't want you to close off completely... not from all of us."

You falter, and Spencer hates that he can't just say that he doesn't want you to close off from him. He didn't want this situation to change the way you behaved with him, he couldn't handle losing you.

"I won't." you promise. "And I won't do anything to jeopardize what we do here, I've got enough self control to be civil." you add with a small smile. "I haven't quite decided what a future at the bureau will look like, but I am willing to give things here a chance to get better." and you do love your work, Profiling was something you enjoyed doing, you wouldn't toss it away, unless you absolutely had no other choice. "So you don't have to worry about losing me, Spence." and you hold your breath, mostly because it's a bit audacious on your part.

He offers you a half smile, and you notice the way he visibly relaxes. Still, he doesn't want you to feel obligated to stay somewhere just for his sake, so he feels the need to be honest with you. "I'm not worried." he promises you, and it's a tiny fib, one that could become true if he grew just a touch more confidence. "Even if you did decide to leave one day I would put in the work to keep you in my life." and his smile stretches across his face now, and reaches his eyes. "You're not someone anyone would want to lose." your stomach twists.

"You're not either, Spencer." and you say it firmly, mainly to show just how much you need him to believe it. "I'd just make it my job to take up all your free time outside of work." and his face feels incessantly warm, like he'd stuck his head directly in the stream of scalding shower water. The funny thing about you was that you were oftentimes one of the hardest on the team to read. He figured that because he spent so much time hyper focused on you that he'd get better at it. He still hadn't, and you still managed to leave him stuck.

Comments like the one you just made were common for you, but the meaning behind it always escaped him. Were you flirting with him or were you just being nice? Was it possible that you knew that he had feelings for you? Were you using him as a rebound after the mess you'd found yourself entangled into with Hotch just months ago? The thought of him merely being an emotional rebound made him sad, disappointed, and insecure. But then he's taking in your expression, how despite your confidence you still look shy, and reels it in.

You had never been that sort of person, maybe you were just as oblivious as he was. "I'd be okay with that now." and you look a bit surprised, but also pleased. You nod your head slightly, leaning forward just a little in your seat. Spencer isn't sure if he's moved too quickly, but he's got no room to second guess it now.

"We should do something." it's not at all what he'd expected you to say, and he's surprised, it's more than evident on his face.

"Who? Us? Just the two of us?" he asks, and you find yourself offering him an amused sort of glance.

"Yeah, it could be fun." you insist, and you're not trying to play with his feelings, at least not in the traditional sense. Spencer Reid was no rebound. "It's not often we have days off, you know?" and you lean against your palm, head tipping slightly to the side. "Only if you want." you add, hoping that this addition would make him feel a touch more comfortable. It seems to work, because he untenses just a bit.

"Y-Yeah." he nods his head slightly, hair moving with the action just slightly. "Yeah, we should definitely do something." he agrees, and your smile is bright, clearly pleased at the turn of events. "When would you?" his eyes jump to his watch, and he shakes his head. "Obviously, not right now." he says and you're staring at him a bit bemused, because Spencer Reid was nothing if not a bit unserious.

"There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and you witness Spencer's eyes seem to brighten. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me to look at some vinyls and cd's for my collection, we could just go-" and you're eyebrows are raised, "And see what happens? There's a lot you could do..." you finish, and Spencer's already nodding his head in agreement.

"T-That's..." and he clears his throat, you think to keep you from acknowledging the fact his voice cracked in his nervousness. "Yeah, I don't mind that at all." he agrees politely. "Did you know that in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, record stores only sold gramophone records, but over time they've sold other formats like eight-track tapes, compact cassettes, and compact discs." his hands curl into one another as he relays this message and you snort.

"Did you know that there's a national record store day? It started back in 2008." and he's a bit surprised that you're shooting him a fact of your own, and one that he wasn't actually aware of.

"Really?" he questions, and your eyes sort of crinkle, smile broadening enough to show off both rows of your teeth.

"Don't tell me that I know something the brilliant Doctor Reid doesn't." you tease, and his eyes roll, though his entire demeanor remains lighthearted. "So, what's your poison?" you sidestep, but just barely, your work ignored as you focus all your efforts on keeping this conversation with Reid going.

"My poison?" and his mind of course drifts to alcohol, a bit of a confusing pivot in the conversation. "I don't really see myself as much of a drinker." he admits truthfully, and he's confused when you're laughing, hand flying up to cover your mouth as his face contorts.

"I meant your favorite music genre." you correct. "And I know you're partial to classical," and you try not to stretch your eyes. "It's great when I need to concentrate, but I wouldn't exactly say I'm dying to put on Bach and Tchaikovsky in a regular setting." you explain, both hands resting against your cheeks as you await the hopefully longwinded answer he'd have to give you.

"What if that's my only answer?" he asks, and you scoff.

"It's not." you deadpan, and he exhales through his nose. "I know you and Morgan have that understanding about music..." you explain, head cocked to the side. "He got you to listen to Nas." you remind him as he purses his lips at the reminder. "And Garcia's always sending music recommendations." you proceed as Spencer shoots you a look that clearly reads 'What's your point?'.

"Are you really telling me that out of every genre of music that's ever been released to the entire world, the only genre that's ever stood out to you is the one where old men sit behind a piano and twinkle the keys to their hearts content?" Spencer's releasing another one of those quiet laughs, this one is clearly full of exasperation though.

"I think they're doing a little bit more than twinkling keys." he corrects you, and you know that. You'd only said it to get under his skin just a little, he was fun to mess with. "Classical music is one of the only genres that seemingly does so little and is able to express the full spectrum of human emotion and life experience." he explains, and you fight your smile, leaning in just a bit more to show you were focused. You weren't sure what was happening or if anything was really happening at all, and it was all in your mind.

But you were finding that you didn't mind just listening to Spencer go on and on about whatever he wanted. You thought a lot about what had happened outside of that court room, how he'd listened to you. Really listened to you, and had never once made you feel like the emotional failure you'd imagined yourself to be. You couldn't say that in the span of a week all of your feelings for Hotch had vanished. That'd be bullshit, because deep down you knew it wasn't that easy.

And sometimes you wished it could be, sometimes you wondered why you had to fall for Hotch when Spencer was right there.

Still, whether or not you were being forced to come to grips with the fact that Hotch was not, and wouldn't ever love you the way you loved him, you couldn't deny that it was nice to have a friend there. Spencer wasn't coming to you with heavy confessions and tear-streaked cheeks begging you to look and see that he was perfect for you, which is why you think you like him even more. You knew a lot of times it was hard, rare even to find someone who would just care for you without expecting anything in return. That was Spence to a T.

"Go on." you instruct, and you find that despite the way you'd baited him into this conversation, it was well worth it. He didn't get a lot of time to just be Spencer, and with no clock over your heads, no rush for time to solve a case, you figured it was the least you could do. Especially after he'd spent the last week trying to show you how much he cared.

"I just mean that in classical music, it's actually very common to have one piece of music encompass an entire host of emotions, experiences, and subject matter." he expresses, and you hum, nodding along. "And it's all because most classical pieces use a similar formula that uses textures, dynamic colors and key modulations to express things certain words can't properly articulate." he proceeds. "That's why certain sounds and notes manage to adduce certain reactions." he seems finished.

"Oh, yeah?" you press and he nods limply, seemingly awaiting the moment you offer some jab regarding his oversharing. "I guess Mozart and Beethoven were really onto something." you mutter, and he snorts. "Still, I'd much rather listen to something a bit more obvious." you admit, not that you had a real problem with Classical Music.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I'm just saying... music's always sort of been the perfect tool for expressing everything you might need to say." you counter. "And while I agree that music in any form does a great job of invoking certain emotions, sometimes you don't want to guess what someone means." you admit, and it's partially (mostly) because you had never been good at reading in between the lines. Things always made the most sense when they were plainly spelled out.

"Or maybe that's just a me thing." you correct. "I've found that I always enjoy things when they're a little more laid out... there's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right?" you ask and Spencer's lips curve down into a slight frown. He's not pitying you, mostly just sympathizing with how torn up you must have been about everything. Especially as your eyes instinctively are drawn to the shut doorway of Hotch's office. Spencer thinks that's when reality sets back in and hits him like a brick.

Because he knew something that you didn't. Something that would probably make everything better for you, but would undoubtedly double his heartache. In truth, he, much like everyone else on the team tried their hardest to ignore just how obvious you'd been about your feelings for hotch. spencer more than anyone.

He remembered how things had changed a few months back, how you'd started to move on all for the rug to be pulled from up under your feet. It had been outwardly cruel, undoubtedly. because while everyone else on the team seemed to be just fine with 'don't ask, don't tell', Spencer had been unable to not pay attention to the way Hotch had actually changed too. Did he hate him? Absolutely not... and he knew you didn't either, because despite how idiotic the plan was, he hadn't done much besides give you more attention.

And Spencer guessed the act of giving you more attention had unsurprisingly ended with Aaron Hotchner realizing it was something he actually enjoyed. Hence the sudden change their boss underwent.

He supposed that was the worst part about it all, the fact that everyone had the right to tell you that "nothing had happened", and there was nothing you could do about it. Because in the grand scheme of things nothing really had happened. Hotch was no heartless womanizer, Spencer couldn't even imagine the man flirting with anyone, let alone stringing someone along for kicks. Still, that didn't change the fact that you'd gotten your hopes up, and now you were back to your own harsh reality.

Not because it wasn't a real possibility, more so because Hotch was self destructive, and sabotaged himself and his happiness at every turn. Spencer wants to stay quiet, to bask in the fact that you were slowly on your own terms getting over Hotch, and paying more attention to him, but he can't do that. He'd hate it if someone did it to him. So instead he decides to throw you a bone, push you in the right direction. "Why haven't you just talked to him?" it's not what he had meant to say. He had meant to play the role of the supportive friend.

He'd wanted to pat you on the back, mumble some agreeance that would validate how you were feeling, and possibly give him cool points. Instead, here he was about to push you in the direction of someone else. He supposed that's how stupid love made you.

"What?" you exclaim, and Spencer doesn't know what's so exasperating about his question. It was obvious that you needed to, it wasn't fair that you were slowly deteriorating on the inside whilst trying to maintain some semblance of being a "team player". He said 'screw the team' if it wasn't genuine. And clearly, from the way you'd still been icing out JJ and Emily, it wasn't. Not fully anyway. He'd never rush you to get over it, mostly because it'd make him a hypocrite. He still cringes at the thought of the tears he'd shed to JJ.

But, that was his own problem.

"Hotch." he lowers his voice a little, because it's just now hitting him that the two of you have been slacking off for a while now. Emily wasn't exactly focused in on the both of you anymore, but every so often, he'd find that she still look up every few moments. JJ, Derek, and Rossi had made a habit of leaving their respective offices, eyes glued to what was apparently becoming unit news. "You should talk to him." he says simply as your eyes cross dramatically.

"What's there to talk about?" you ask suddenly distracted by a smudge on the corner of your desk.

"What happened." he says simply. "I mean, don't you think there might be some explanation you might be missing?" Spencer tries, and you curl into yourself just a little bit.

"It's still work hours and he's still Hotch." you deny, and Spencer's lips push to the side, an obvious sign of his slight discomfort about what he was going to say next. "He's not going to want to talk about it." you admit. "And what exactly do you say in a conversation like that? Oh by the way boss, I was in love with you, and it kinda felt like maybe you felt the same, except oh wait, it was just a ploy to keep me from realizing you were lying about Emily being alive?" you say sarcastically. Spencer huffs in retaliation.

"Yes actually, you could say exactly that. Maybe you'll learn something you didn't know before." he deadpans, and your nose curls. You cut your eyes over at the man, who's not amused.

"I kinda thought you'd be the last person pushing for this sort of confrontation, you know?' you admit before you can really help yourself. You watch as Spencer's face seems to set into one of surprise, his cheeks and neck slowly gaining a red sort of tint to them.

"What do you mean?" he questions, and your mouth parts just slightly. And you think the same way he's been gentle with you is the exact same way you need to be gentle with him, so you pivot, head shaking from side to side.

"Nothing." you say firmly. "Forget about it." you say quietly, and then you're looking back at your paperwork. Spencer, embarrassed finds himself fiddling with his fingers, trying to scold his heartbeat back into submission. It suddenly felt way too cramped sitting at your desk.

"You should go after work." he says, and your eyes snap back to him. "Talk to Hotch after work, I mean." he says and your stomach feels a bit tight. "I think it'll be best." he proceeds, and you frown.

"You do?" you question, and you try not to sound despondent.

"Y-Yeah, I do." he agrees despite his stutter. "Things like this don't go away on their own, you know?" and you chew on the inside of your lip, and feel that gloom cloud from earlier making its way back.

"I thought we were supposed to be hanging out today, Spencer." you start and he blinks owlishly, long lashes nearly caressing the tops of his cheekbones.

"We could always raincheck." he says, and you stare at him just a bit blankly. "It's not like it was a date or anything. They were just plans..." he adds, and your teeth chomp down on your bottom lip. He doesn't really know how to read the look on your face, but he knows that he feels like he's being noble.

"Just plans." you shrug your shoulders dismissively. "Right." and then you pick up your pen. "Well if that's what you want, I guess it's fine by me." you add, body curling into itself as you position yourself away from him.

"Isn't that what you want?" he questions, and you cut your eyes.

"Do you think I'd be sitting here if it was?" you keep your voice level, but your leg is bouncing. You're not quite sure why, maybe because Spencer was being Spencer. You supposed your comment that made it clear that you knew that he had feelings for you had scared him. Now, he was trying to protect himself, but you weren't so hungry for a relationship that you'd string him along for the sole purpose of getting over Hotch. You would've made this call had you figured it out or not, and you supposed the fact he didn't get that was what sucked. "I'm not that pathetic." you add with a quiet scoff.

"It's not about you being pathetic." he denies. "I don't think that about you., I just know that you're in a vulnerable place. You had real feelings for him, and I think it'd be best for you to get it all off your chest correctly, before you start projecting all those leftover feelings to the first person you can." and he doesn't mean it in the way it sounds. In fact the statistics about rebounds would sound a lot worse, but as usual, he's horrible at communicating exactly what he feels.

You blink. Once, twice, three times.

"I can't believe you just said that to me." you say, and you're abruptly standing up, mostly because you're about to cry like the fucking baby you were. Spencer's certain this is a new record for how quickly things could go left just because he couldn't shut the hell up. What he'd been trying to convey was that after a rejection, it was much easier to mistake platonic feelings for romantic ones. He had been a consistent shoulder for you to lean on since everything went south.

He didn't want you to think that he was being nice to you only because he had feelings for you, and convince yourself that you felt the same all because you refused to fully shut the door with Hotch. But he'd never actually meant to make it seem like you'd be so desperate, and especially not with him. "Y/N, wait. That's not what I meant-" except you're already leaving, taking in the shaky breath that told him he'd stupidly made you cry.

"L/N?" Emily's calling as you pass her, but you don't respond to her either. Instead you're rushing off in the direction of the bathroom, likely to calm yourself down. Emily's eyes are immediately snapping over to Spencer, and her eyebrows are furrowed. He instinctively looks away, internally cursing himself out.

────────────────────────

"Y/N/N?" you're surprised to hear JJ entering the bathroom, and you're hurriedly moving to splash at your face with water to keep it from looking so puffy. Still, JJ was as perceptive as she was pushy, so it's clear she's already put it together that you're crying. "Hey, is everything alright?" she takes on that motherly tone she uses with Henry, and the rest of the team when they're feeling down.

"I'm fine." you insist, and she doesn't look convinced. She takes a tentative step towards you, standing beside the sink you were occupying. "Seriously JJ, please just leave me alone." you partially beg.

"I know you're upset with me, but you're still my friend." she reminds you. "I'm not going to leave you in here when it's clear you're upset." she exclaims. "So you can talk to me or not, but I'm not going anywhere." she deadpans, and you sniffle, rubbing harshly at your cheeks. They're sensitive to the action, blood rushing to your face.

"You're so annoying." you mumble, but there's no bite. It makes JJ snicker, and it's a step in the right direction you're sure.

"It's my job." she retorts with a shrug, and she leans her back against the sink beside you, legs crossing slightly. "Is everything okay?" she tries again, much more gently as you frown. No, everything was not okay. You hadn't actually expected to be sitting here crying over Spencer's remark, but you supposed that the fact he believed you'd ever use him as a rebound had kind of hurt. You supposed it also didn't help that he'd so callously canceled your plans.

You'd actually started to look forward to hanging out with him.

"Do you think I'm desperate?" you question haughtily, and JJ's eyes widen, surprise overtaking her features as she turns to you fully.

"Of course not." she denies firmly, blonde ponytail bobbing with all her intense animation. "What would make you think that?" she pries, and you cut your eyes just slightly.

"You guys could have trusted me with the truth." you counter, and she falls silent. "And even if you couldn't there were so many other ways to keep me from finding out about Emily. Ways that didn't involve making me look like an idiot to the rest of the team." you mumble crossly, and you blink enough that you feel like your lashes are crumpling into your cornea. it forces you to drag a hand over them roughly, rubbing harshly at your eyes until the sensation left.

"That wasn't what we were trying to do." JJ tries, and it doesn't really matter what exactly she was trying to do. What mattered was what had happened. "You know that." she adds, and you think she's trying to appeal to the part of you that knew the type of people she and Hotch were. The ones that had proven their loyalty to the team for years and years. "Is this about Hotch?" she says and you wince because the problem wasn't that simple.

And you didn't understand why everyone seemed to think so.

You weren't some girl that couldn't handle rejection, what bothered you the most was that Hotch and JJ had felt like they couldn't trust you, and it bothered you that Hotch had felt like he had to play along to some stupid fantasy to ensure you'd play your role. And it especially bothered you that you'd mourned your friend Emily and everything you thought you knew about her, and all anyone could focus on was the fact that you liked Hotch and he didn't like you back. As if your entire world stopped all because of it.

"No, it's not about Hotch." you deadpan. "I wish you guys would just stop being so casual about it." you add on as JJ's mouth parts.

"Y/N... it's not really something that you'd ever really been subtle about. Everyone knows." and she's still trying to be gentle, despite the fact that the words still managed to slice at you.

"So that makes what you guys did, okay?" you shoot back. "Is that really the hill you want to die on?" and you're growing crosser. "This isn't about not being liked back by a guy, this is about me believing that the people I spend most of my days with have my back. How are we supposed to be a team when I can't trust you?" you press. "Because you never would have done that to Spence." you add, and JJ blinks, mostly because she doesn't know how to counter that.

"You didn't have to do it to Derek or Rossi or Penelope either." you remind her. "So what was it about me, about this that made your only course of action rubbing salt in a wound that I was doing a damn good job of healing all on my own?"

"I-I don't know." she admits, and you suppose it was an answer.

"Yeah, well I don't know if I have the patience to wait around for you all to figure that out." you mumble.

"What are you saying?" and JJ's blinking a bit more, eyes misty but not quite showing any signs of shed tears.

"I'm saying that before I didn't know if I wanted to stay here anymore. I love my job, but I don't love how it makes me feel now." you say plainly. "When Elle got like that and ignored her gut it got someone shot." you say, and it sounds melodramatic, but it doesn't feel that way at all. JJ gasps, though it's faint. "I just don't want to wait around for that to happen to me." and you inhale sharply, shuddered breath wracking through you as JJ stares at you clearly gobsmacked.

"But-" and she can't quite grasp the words. "You can't just leave." she exclaims, and it sounds like she's pleading. "Look-" and she's starting to sound just a little desperate. "Look we never wanted to hurt you, okay? And-and none of us..." and she stops to make sure she's staring you directly in your eyes. "None of us want to lose you, Y/N." she insists. "I-" and she's shaking her head again. "Please don't do this." and she sounds the same way Spencer did when he said it. Your nose twitches, "We just got the team back together." she mutters.

"JJ, that's not fair." you huff at her, and she's not really trying to be fair. She just doesn't want you to leave.

"I'm so sorry that we hurt you." and while most apologies that start that way are usually rife with deceit, JJ sounds more sincere than she probably ever has before. "And I'm sorry if it feels a little flat, especially with you already having a foot out the door." she sighs, "It wasn't okay, but-but I know how Hotch feels about you. How the entire team feels about you." she reiterates. "We can't do this without you, we can't." she emphasizes sternly. "And maybe that's selfish to bring up, but we all care so much about you." she promises.

You want to cut her off, but she doesn't give you the chance.

Classic JJ.

"Do whatever you need to! Take as much time away as you need, hate us forever if you have to, but please don't- don't walk away from what you do here." she exhales shakily. "And-and for the record, whether it helps or not... we didn't sit around discussing your... feelings for Hotch." she tells you quietly. "It wasn't some master plan that we composed, and-and I don't know... it couldn't have all been fake." she whispers, and you wonder why she's changing her tune, because just last week she was telling you that 'it wasn't real'

"JJ-" you finally manage and she's shaking her head.

"I'm serious." she insists, and your nose crinkles up again.

"Stop." you deadpan. "You're being really mean." you huff, and you begin to click at your nails just slightly. JJ thinks you're a little bit exasperating. Too stubborn for your own good, but she wont push.

"Could you just listen for one second?" she exclaims, and you're pouting as she grows more overwhelmed at it all. "I wouldn't lie to you about this." she insists, and you wonder why she, and Spencer have taken this sort of stance with you. It should make you hopeful, right? Oh, there was some chance that Hotch felt the same way as you. Except you can't be happy about it, because he's not the one that was sitting here telling you this. It was JJ.

What had you told Spencer earlier? 'There's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right', and emotionally exhausted or not, you meant it. Which meant you refused to do the work for him. If he couldn't say it, if he couldn't admit it, than it was as if it wasn't true at all. Which is why you exhale, blinking away whatever bleariness tried to keep itself latched to your eyes. "I love you for trying so hard, but I'd rather you didn't." you instruct sternly.

JJ inhales deeply, audibly expelling the breath from her nose. "That's what you're missing, Y/N." she begins, and she reaches out, hand cupping your shoulder. "I'm not trying to do anything. Everything I've said today I meant. You're important, and you're a lot to lose." she admits. "If you're going to leave, leave because you hate the job, do it because you don't feel fulfilled any longer. But don't let this be what makes you throw in the towel, Y/N." she says and you huff again.

You were doing a lot of that today. "We'll make up for it." she begins, and then she sighs. "I'll make up for it, however long it takes." and you think her pivot from sharing the blame to taking it all for herself makes you feel a little less like you were being ganged up on. She was no longer the spokesperson for everyone involved, and was back to just being JJ, your friend JJ. "Please?" she tries again, and it's not like her to beg, which tells you all you need to know about how serious she was.

"We should get back to work." you mumble, and it's not quite the answer she's expecting, but at the very least it was a promise that you both still had until the end of the day at the very least. She doesn't have the strength to fight her smile, arms looping around you in a move that's much too invasive for your still sour mood, but you don't slight her for it. You instead let her hug you, because obviously it meant a lot more to her than you knew. She'd missed you.

"Alright, alright. That's enough." you tease, moving to lightly push the blonde off of you as she exhales.

"Can you blame me? I thought you were gonna hate me forever." she admits honestly, and you crinkle your nose.

"Guess I'm softer than I thought." you reply, and she waves you off at the remark. Still, despite this slight turn in the direction of your relationship with JJ, you still couldn't feel all that settled. But, you know hiding out in the restroom was by no means the best choice. So when JJ moves to leave, you tail her, surprised when on the other side is a nearly pacing Reid.

"Spence?" JJ exclaims in surprise, the tawny haired man turns to you both. He's immediately looking past JJ to take you in. JJ follows hos gaze and whistles under her breath, deciding that her job was done. She offers you a hopeful sort of look before she continues on towards her desk, leaving you and Spencer mostly alone.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and you're subjectively alright, for the moment. You're better than you were, but not as good as you could be. You're not anywhere near where or who you were before, but you suppose after what the team endured there wasn't much that could be done about that last bit. "I'm so sorry." he's exclaiming, and of course, he means it. He always means it. "I didn't mean to-" and he doesn't really know how to articulate all his thoughts correctly.

He's good with words, knows facts and statistics and data, knows what runs through his mind when he thinks about you, and knows what he wants to say. It's when he opens his mouth that things go awry, because despite all his grand attempts, he always manages to screw up when it came to expressing the emotional side of things. His pep talks sometimes fell flat, and a lot of times he missed the mark when it came to cheering someone up. But, he'd never wanted to be a person who hurt you, so he needed to fix it.

Even if it ruined everything forever.

"I wasn't trying to insinuate that you'd-" and he motions between the both of you. "I don't think that you see me as a rebound." he finally vocalizes. "That would mean you'd have to see me in a potentially romantic way." Spencer's voice is as steady as it often was when he was giving a geographical profile or helping to relay some form of fact or evidence during a case. Which said a lot about his intentions, and how serious he was about you not misunderstanding him.

"I was merely trying to note that a lot of times in circumstances where we're faced rejection from someone we hold to a high regard, it's really easy to misinterpret our own feelings and latch onto people before we really mean to." he expresses, and your chewing on the inside of your cheek, albeit subtly. "For example, because you've established me as someone who you can trust during this time, it'd be really easy for you to misinterpret what you think you feel for me." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inwardly.

"How could I possibly do that? They're my own feelings." you retort.

"Because, the first thing people do after a breakup, is they seek validation, or a new way to boost their esteem and self worth." he doesn't quite lecture, but it's clear he's intent on your knowing all of this. "And that doesn't necessarily mean that you're vying for me as a potential person to bounce back with, but a lot of times when you don't process the end of a previous emotional bond, your view of the entire new dynamic can be warped." he proceeds, and you're still not really understanding his point, instead you're feeling more silly.

"What are you saying, Spencer?" you question quietly.

"All I'm trying to explain is that I don't want you to tell me that you want to go out and listen to me promenade facts unless it's what you really want to do." he says, "I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to play along, because you think we're in the same boat... where we- we love someone that we can't have?" he presses, and he winces once it's out, you think you may have started holding your breath. "Does that make sense to you?"

You nod your head limply, and you take in his words. You find that your little hunch about your dear Spencer was correct. You also note that it doesn't quite scare you the way you'd initially believed it would. "Spence, I wouldn't do that to you." you remind him, and he nods too.

"I know that." he promises. "At least not consciously, but our minds can play tricks on us. You could think that this is what's best, moving on... forgetting about- about everything that happened." he presses, and your lips form into a thin line. "And then wake up in three weeks and remember why you fell in love with Hotch to begin with."

"Or-" and his eyes widen.

"Or?"

"Or...I could choose to stop waiting around for someone to not be afraid to love me." you counter. "I could- I could choose to hang out with my friend, Spencer and be okay with whatever happens after that. I could- We could do that. And it could be okay." you purse your lips. "Because, it's what I want to do. Nobody's entitled to my feelings but me, and you know what that means, Spencer? It means that if you think that you might love me, you need to be okay with that." he looks a bit startled that you're saying it so bluntly, but stays quiet.

"And you need to know that sometimes your statistics are gonna be wrong, and sometimes the guy that's too scared to admit how they feel doesn't get the girl." it's a shock, you can't say that you've fallen out of love in a day, you can't say that you've fallen in love in a day. But you do know that Spencer Reid managed to invoke a hope inside of you that you hadn't managed to feel in a long time. He made you girlishly giddy, and you liked talking to him, you liked listening to him, you liked the way it felt when you'd made plans together.

And maybe there was no such thing as a happily ever after where everyone gets who they want, maybe in three weeks you would wake up and find that you and Spencer were better off as friends, but you weren't going to hold up your life in the hopes that maybe someday Aaron Hotchner would wake up and decide he was finally ready to love you out loud. Not when there was a chance to take your own life, your own emotions by the balls and do with them what you wanted.

"He doesn't?" Spencer asks, and you're not quite sure you can place what emotions are resting on his face and in his eyes.

"We can find out." you offer, and it's not some heady and heavy declaration of unyielding devotion, but wasn't that sort of how every relationship started? With some decision to take a chance. Maybe, you didn't really know. "There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and for the second time that day Spencer seems to brighten right in front of your eyes. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me... there's a lot we could do…" and the small change is almost everything. It's scary, causes a pit in your gut.

Still, it's a nicer feeling than uncertainty and the hollowness left behind by idleness. "Are you in?" you ask, and Spencer is already nodding his head, smile reaching his eyes as his pretty teeth reveal themselves to you, eyes twinkling in a way that's very very beautiful.

"Yes." he agrees with a simple nod. "I would-" and you think it's cute the way his smile refuses to leave, and sweet the way he's suddenly grown nervous all over again. "I'd like that-" and his voice cracks, and earns him a laugh, your own demeanor seeming to change as your excitement starts to brew in the depths of your chest.

"Good." you beam.

"Good." he repeats, and there's a small moment, a flicker where you're certain you both look nervous, frightful of what came next. But it only lasts a second, because you're both suddenly being called by Derek, a resounding 'Pretty Boy, Pretty Girl' forcing you out of your bubble and back into the fray. With another shared smile you find yourselves in step, making your way back towards the heart of the bullpen where the rest of the team is huddled. It's rare when work is so light, but you know as well as everyone else, you'll all take advantage of it.

When Penelope smiles at you, you smile back, and it's real.

When JJ plants herself on top of your desk, the two of you actually laugh, spilling secrets and trading gossip like nothing's ever changed.

When Rossi calls you Piccola, you relax even more into the familiarity of being surrounded by your teammates.

When Derek slings an arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss to the top of your head, you remember why you loved your job.

When Emily calls your name and waves you and JJ over to the group, you oblige, meeting Emily's eyes with no mirth left behind. When she calls you by your nickname, you feel that familiar swarm of familial adoration filling your chest, and recognize that things with her would be okay. You find that in the grand scheme she is still your Emily.

When you find yourself standing next to your boss, his usually stern and stoic persona shed in the presence of the team he considered family, you hardly bat an eye. When he smiles at a joke you make, you're pleased, but the anxiety, the panic that tormented you is all gone. The butterflies are too, replaced with the respect you remember.

And when you find yourself looking across the circle and meet the pretty brown eyes of one Spencer Reid, you feel it when your heart tremors, just a little bit.

And you think, in the end, you made the right decision.