#i just like talking about this fic and it helped me get into the Writing Zone again hehe

[bunnwich]

HELLO! Do you have a summary of how you portray Leona's personality in your stories? I'm a big fan of your Leona and Yuu stories and I've read them multiple times www /gen I always feel like you just nail how he would act and say things and you inspire me to work on my own fics and get better at writing scenarios with him. Than you in advance ily🙏 🦉anon

How I Portray Leona in General and in Romance

HI ANON! So I've gotten this question a few times and someone in my discord asked me basically the same thing so I'll share with you what I wrote a few months ago about Leona and the general way I write him. (it's quite funny bc a lot of these things come up in Chapter 7 when we see his dream. I AM CURSED WITH APOLLOS'S GIFT OF PROPHECY WITH THIS MAN ISTG)

I hope this is helpful?? I would like to point out that the way I write Leona is fully based on my biases and life experiences. And that a big part of fandom is projecting what you wanna see in characters while still making them feel like the same character we know in canon, yk? Good luck with your fic writing! And thank you!! mwah mwah.💚 --

So Leona takes himself as a direct person, BUT he hides A LOT. He purposely misdirects people to get a reaction out of them. (Ex: pretending to be incompetent to anger someone) or he's playing with them. HE LOVES GAMES. Everyone is a chess piece, he has to feel in control bc that’s all he has ever had over everyone else; his wits. He’s a dickhead. He will say offensive shit to scare people off.

It’s a test to see who sticks around. He has no reservations when it comes to this. You take him as he is. And despite how some people write him he’s kinda silly? Like dad jokes. Why does he joke so much about eating people, who knows? (He says shit like Namby-pamby ffs) Why are you a 40y/o in a 20 y/o body?

I HC he purposely talks casually and gruff to distance himself from his upbringing. (I like to mix proper language and slang with him bc it feels right? Also lots of animal puns, and nicknames. HE'S CORNY AF)

In general, I don't think Leona is an entirely romantic person in canon, however in my timeline, I do HC that he, like Scar has this “want vs need problem” with connection to others. He thinks it's just praise he wants (or to be king) BUT he NEEDS TLC. What was Scar MOST jealous of at the end of the day?? Mufasa’s connections, a ✨queen✨, a family! BEING KING DID NOT MAKE SCAR HAPPY!! He needs to be needed and in Chapter 2 novella, he admits he HAS to numb himself to not care. I feel like this is something he constantly battles with. Yeah, he's lazy but it's partly bc he’s tired. He’s burnt out.

On the surface, he projects 100% nonchalance. He wants you to think everything he says is just "off the cuff", but it's not. He plans everything!!! He’s a mentor, big bro, caretaker. He is not the best at comforting words but he enjoys being a leader bc people appreciate him and look up to him. Something he never got at home.

Leona and ✨Romance✨

He fools himself into thinking he has the upper hand at first and keeps his distance keeping an eye on the object of his affection. Why would you catch his eye? Well, his greatest strength is picking up on OTHER STRENGTHS. Chessmaster. He is a mentorrrr and caretaker lowkey, he wants others to NEED him and rely on him. HE WANTS YOU TO NEED HIM.

At first, he would place himself in your path, trying to be helpful in a very tsundere type way. But he would still be causal and keep ruffling your feathers to gauge how you feel for him. He guards his heart pretty heavily. And more and more he is slowly collecting info about you he would find more ways for these meetings to happen until he realizes: "Oh shit, I’ve caught feelings." This one is the winner. He’s the king of nonchalance but also...he’s a very overly sensitive person. No doubt he’s freaking out a little, he doesn't wanna screw this up. But, he’d never show it.

I do think he wants to be challenged and given some pushback (insert manga panel about "something being harder to get and therefore is better"), He wants to WORK for it, to prove himself to you that you SHOULD choose him. He wants to impress you. It makes him feel alive. A person who keeps him on his toes.

And once this ”game” of cat and mouse starts to happen. He might start to let his guard down if you are shown you can be trusted with his VERY VERY delicate feelings, that you DO accept his flaws, treat him differently than all others, and see past his gruff demeanor. It is a test of sorts. He is testing that you can “handle” him. MORE GAMES.

He’d let you set the pace though. He won't be the first to give in. To kiss you or confess first. But he would fall first HARD. He’s not been given much one-on-one attention in his life so he would crave that time with you. Physical touch is a big one, but he would not be pushy. He'd tease your boundaries and become addicted to your time together.

But yeah, this push and pull goes on for a while, all the while he’s gauging how you react to this. Memorizing it all.

He’s def one of those texters who erases their sentence like 5 times when they are nervous bc he is cookin' up the RIGHT response to endear you. (Not in a sappy way of course more in a: “I know you miss me, mouse.” snarky sorta way.) Though he can be self-deprecating on bad days. He’ll act confident, though soften up behind closed doors.

I think once he realizes that you have picked up on his simpery and there's no going back...all bets are off. He doubles down, no longer ashamed of hiding it. (Assuming at this point the person has reciprocated these feelings too!) He wants to be yours and he’s not subtle. Someone to be by his side.

Then you get the REAL simp Leona, who lowkey mumbles the sappiest shit to you in his native language when he holds you, (bc he’s still embarrassed to be vulnerable, though this will fade over time) He’ll be your biggest supporter, and wants you around him as much as you can be.

This just keeps going until you're married. Congrats you now have a lion to take care of forever.🦁 Hope this helps!✨

[lordprettyflackotara]

Can you do a Jeff the killer public type thing just an idea 🤷‍♀️

die for me || jeff the killer

‘good God she’s on the floor rolling her eyes at me, once i get inside she’ll wanna die with me’

sum: after a long mission, Jeff can’t help but admire your dedication to him. the longer the drive back to the mansion goes on, Jeff decides he can’t wait any longer, that needs you now.

tw:smut, minors dni, 18+. public sex, filthy gas station sex, jeff’s a cocky bastard (duh), threats of violence but in a horny way, choking, etc

a/n: first fic inna minute let’s gooo, also friendly reminder i only write for afab/fem readers, that is the only thing i am comfortable writing. my rules are in my pinned post :)

Jeff couldn’t take it anymore.

He always knew he was terrible at controlling impulses. From killing, to insults, to fighting. When Jeff wanted something, nothing was going to get in his way.

This time however, that just so happened to be you.

You were sitting beside him in a beat up toyota, your feet hanging out of the window as you mindlessly played on the nintendo switch Ben had lent you. The orange street lamps briefly illuminated your face every few seconds as Jeff drove past them. Your furrowed eyebrows and softer expression captivated him.

Before this mission Jeff had never thought twice about you, if he was being honest. He never paid attention to anyone at the mansion, especially not newer residents. Typically the newer ones left before he even gave them a second look. But contrary to his dismay, The Operator deemed the two of you to be a compatible duo for the task he had in mind. Jeff was not happy about this, not fearful to hide his anger when he found out the news. Jeff was aware living in the mansion required completing some task every now and then. It was apart of the unspoken contract. Usually The Operator knew better then to send someone with Jeff, given how impulsive and unhinged the killer could be.

To Jeff’s surprise, you kept up with him. You matched every move he made, your face discreetly lighting up with excitement when he made an absurd impulsive decision. You never complained or got annoyed when Jeff mindlessly made a move. You never worried about the consequences. You trusted Jeff’s judgment. That kind of respect was never given to him by any of the others, despite the fact that he was one of the oldest creeps in the mansion. He couldn’t help but continue to glance at you, soaking in your features. He cursed the Earth for making it nighttime, your mesmerizing facial features hidden every few seconds.

Endless words were on the tip of the pale killers tongue, Jeff desperate to have a conversation with you. He hardly even knew your name, shit, he wasn’t even sure he had the correct name in mind. What would you two talk about? How breath taking you looked with fresh blood splattered across your cheeks? How his heart thumped every-time you giggled at one of his shitty one liners? Or how you admired every time he wrote ‘go to sleep’ on the walls after his killing spree? Jeff gripped the steering wheel harshly, gritting his teeth.

Why was this so difficult? He’d never had a problem with this before. Talking to people was the least of his worries, given his appearance. That was another thing he liked about you. You never stared at him like he was some wild zoo animal. You looked at him like he was just another person. Most people, including new residents, always gawked at him like he was a fucked up science experiment. But you? Delightfully the opposite. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, shoving off his thoughts. He spread his legs just a little wider, ignoring the way his body felt ignited. He pressed against the gas pedal, pushing the ancient car to its limits. This caught your attention, causing you to put down the gaming device. You gave him a wicked grin as you rearranged your position, taking off your seatbelt.

This alarmed Jeff, his obsidian hardened gaze meeting yours.

“What the-, what are you doing?” He questioned, his voice sounding more concerned than he would’ve liked. You giggled as you propped yourself to lean out of the car window, your hair brushing past you in the wind. He could hear your cheers of excitement, your head spinning as you felt like you were soaring. Jeff was mesmerized watching you, so much so his eyes were barely on the road anymore. It wasn’t enough that you were so reckless, so effortlessly addicted to any possible danger. But what was sending him over the edge, were your legs. Bare and exposed, your skirt riding up your soft thighs. He swallowed as you parted your knees, revealing just enough of your black lacey panties.

Jeff had to stop himself from slamming on the brakes, his cock growing harder in his jeans. Were you doing this on purpose? Jeff couldn’t tell, your laughter flooding his ears as you leaned further out of the car. If Jeff could’ve had it his way, he would’ve bent you over the hood of the car on the side of the road and fucked you until you begged for him to stop. But he knew if anyone saw someone like him, police would immediately be involved. And if there’s one thing Jeff hated anything more than Jane, it was the police. So instead he abruptly turned the wheel to the left, grinning in satisfaction as he located a small gas station.

Driving through the middle of no where had its perks, meaning if anyone saw him, he definitely had a chance of just killing them all and leaving. But it also meant there would only be a few people to keep you quiet from. “You hungry or something?” You asked, your hair messy and tangled as you popped back into the car. Your cheeks were flushed red, your eyes forming with excitement at the mere idea of a proposition to do something unhinged. “Yeah i’m hungry alright, c’mon,” Jeff grunted, shoving his hood over his head before climbing out of the car. You followed him, the pale killer keeping his head down as he trudged into the store. You followed behind him closely, unsure of what his next move would be. That was another thing Jeff liked about you, your dedication to following his lead.

He could hear the satisfying clicking of your boots as you trailed behind him, the pale killer noting your eyes hovering over a bag of spicy doritos. “We’ll get those inna second, cmere,” Jeff beckoned, motioning for you to follow. You rejoined him, his slender fingers grabbing your wrist. You let out a gasp of surprise as he yanked you into the gas station restroom, locking the door behind you. His large hand covered your mouth, his other pushing you against the rough wall. His obsidian eyes bored into yours as he stared down at you, noting the way your gaze flickered back and forth. As if you were searching his eyes for an explanation. “I don’t know how you did it doll, but you’ve got my attention. Shit, you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger,” He growled. Jeff didn’t like vulnerable confessions, but he didn’t fail to notice the way your eyebrows were raised in confusion.

“Now tell me, did you wear those little black panties for me? Did you hope you’d get my attention with them? That i’d take them off of you?” Jeff huffed. He could feel your face growing warm under his touch, his pale hand slowly lifting off of your face. You were visibly flustered, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he nudged his knee in between your legs. “Answer me before I cut out your tongue,” He threatened, knowing it held no weight. You licked your dry lips before speaking, breathless as he brought his knee to your core. “Y-Yes, you have no idea how badly i’ve wanted y-you,” You sputtered, clearly embarrassed by the forced confession. Jeff tsked, grabbing your chin forcefully. You should’ve known better than to expect a fairytale kiss, Jeff was always known to do what he wants. No guidelines needed.

“Well you sure do know how to flatter a man. Think you can keep up with me doll?” He smirked, feeling himself growing harder in his jeans. With a shaky hand you boldly brought your hand to his bulge, palming at it through the fabric. Jeff’s painted grin grew wider, his eyes ignited with a feral flame. “Naughty naughty girl. You’ll get what you want, just keep quiet for me,” He purred. Without warning he threw himself down onto his knees, lifting up your skirt. “If you want me to keep going you gotta be quiet. Wouldn’t want anyone hearing you, would we?” Jeff asked, relishing in satisfaction as you nodded like a bobble head. He brought his hot mouth to your core, licking a stripe up your clothed cunt. He watched as you squirmed, biting your lower lip to remain silent. He nudged your thighs open wider, pulling your panties to the side.

Jeff stared at your wet cunt, your body practically begging for him to take you. Teasingly he hovered over your cunt for a moment, before diving in like a starved man. You let out a small gasp, before covering your mouth with your own hand. Your other found its way to his hair, your knees threatening to buckle as his tongue flickered across your sensitive clit. Jeff enjoyed using his large hands to pry your thighs open, his fingers harshly digging into the skin. You tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue teased your entrance. He enjoyed feeling your body beg for more, squeezing around nothing as he enjoyed the nectar your pussy provided.

You were a slave to the way he pleased you, the feeling more erotic to you than you could’ve dreamed of. You had wanted Jeff from the moment you had entered the mansion. The pale killer was tall, dark, and mean. He was fearless, not fearing anyone, anything, or any possible repercussions that could come his way. You admired him for that, your first nights spent with your fingers deep in your cunt as you imagined him destroying your body for his own fun. Now he was on his knees in front of you, lapping at your drenched folds. You tasted divine, Jeff grinning in sick satisfaction as he knew all of his arousal was for him and him alone. You could feel your core begin to tighten, your legs shaking as you approached your first orgasm.

Jeff could feel this too, his lips attached to your clit and sucking harshly. He wanted to rip your first wave of euphoria right out of you. He demanded it. He needed it. He looked up, admiring your desperation to keep quiet as you came in his mouth. The pale killer only lapped at your folds harder, determined to clean you up as best as he could with his tongue. He smirked, chin and lips coated in your juices as he emerged from between your thighs. He rose to his feet, towering over you. You looked dazed, your heart pounding as his strong hands kept you upright. Swallowing, you stared up at him with lust filled eyes. He removed your hand from your mouth, listening to you pant quietly. “Don’t tell me you’re worn out already doll, we’re just getting started,” Jeff snickered, beaming with pride as he tucked some stray hairs behind your ear.

In a swift motion he dragged you over to the sink, bending you over and grabbing a handful of your hair. Your eyes landed on him in the filthy mirror, Jeff’s eyes darkening as he unzipped his pants. “You’re gonna watch me fuck you, understand? You’re gonna watch me ruin this little cunt for anyone else but me. If you look away I won’t hesitate to bash your head in, understood?” Jeff snarled, adjusting himself to your entrance. You verbalized agreement, your body on cloud nine as he began to shove himself inside of you. Your hands gripped the sides of the sink, your knuckles turning white as he abruptly bottomed out inside of you. The pale killer was not a gentle man, especially not when it came to abusing your cunt for his own pleasure. He released your hair, several strands messily falling into your face. His large hand wrapped itself around your neck, his slender fingers dedicated to forming bruises on your tender skin.

His dark obsidian eyes stared at you in the mirror, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure as your walls adjusted around him. “You’re a sick fuck, wanting someone like me to take you like this,” Jeff huffed, slowly moving his hips. Your whimper was muffled by his hand squeezing around your throat, restricting your airway. “In a filthy gas station bathroom too? Such a sick whore,” He seethed, watching your lips part and form into the shape of an O. He had to hold back his own sinful noises as he began to fuck you properly, his cock abusing your g spot with his each thrust. He could feel how tightly you squeezing him, how much your body craved his filthy words. “You like this? Hmm? Being used like a fuckin slut in public?” He grumbled in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your eyes threatened to roll back into your head, Jeff squeezing your throat harder.

“Eyes on us slut, don’t make me ruin that pretty face of yours,” He threatened, your fucked out eyes returning to the unholy sight in the mirror. He grinned sadistically as he nibbled at your earlobe, feeling your body grind against his as he did so. Your body felt like it was on fire, your legs trembling as you approached your next high. You had never felt so euphoric before, your body addicted to the pleasure you had only dreamed of. “Such a good fuck doll for me, fuck,” Jeff groaned, fucking into you harshly. You could feel your body growing closer to the edge of your final orgasm, your knuckles turning white from gripping the sink so hard. Jeff could sense this as well, shooting you a sadistic glance in the mirror. “C’mon pretty girl, cum on my cock. Make a mess for me,” He purred, licking your ear lobe. It felt so sickeningly pleasurable you came on his command, your eyes rolling back as euphoria washed over you.

The high of your orgasm didn’t last long, your vision hazy as Jeff forced you onto your knees. Your knees hit the gross sticky tile below, his cock covered in your juices and his precum as he stood before you.

“We aren’t done slut. Open up your mouth and suck.”

[arilevenatz]

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: popular guy!yeosang x chubby!fem!reader

Genre: Angst (?), fluff

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: kinda frat boy yeosang, him and his friends are handsome (yes that's a warning), reader has anxiety, she is also insecure, anxiety attacks, yeo is cheeky, like really cheeky, you might wanna flick him a bit, bestfriend! San and wooyoung, suicide mentioned, lmk if I missed any!!

AN: y'all bear with me this is my first time posting on Tumblr, I'm still figuring out stuff. I had a dream about this and I decided that I'm gonna write a yeo fic. And also please reblog and like, so I can get more motivated!!

Yeosang was a quiet and smart guy in the class. He used to talk only when spoken to. Except his little friend group, well maybe not so little. All the students seem to respect him of some sort. He and his group almost seemed, untouchable. Not like they were the popular group or something. Neither were they hostile. They were just really handsome. The whole group looked like they walked out of a movie set of a kdrama.

You were not new to this. But not particularly known as well. Honestly you didn't care. You stopped caring since high school. The only thing you knew about him was that he was a guy from a group.....and he was good at maths. You were a normal student, yes, maybe you scored the top score in Psychology in your college anyone has ever had, but that's just irrelevant right? In the end, nobody cares.

But you were wrong, he cares. So much so that he came and sat beside you in English class. Not particularly unlikely for someone to sit beside you. You usually didn't even care. But he isn't just somebody. He is the Yeosang. The same guy that all the girls swooned over just cuz he showed his birthmark. What's so impressive about birthmarks anyway? It's just a mark.

At first, you didn't care. But then it started to repeat. Everyday he would come and sit beside you (cause language classes were mandatory everyday) and heck you were not liking the attention you were getting.

"Hey, you should not get close to yeosang or anyone in their group. I heard they are gangsters" "I heard they are no good" "They are in a satanic cult where they sell their souls to the devil to live for eternity!!"

Yeah needless to say people had some crazy rumours about them. You? you didn't care. And also who the fuck would sell their soul to live forever. You'd rather do that to die painlessly, cause life. But for some reason, they seem to keep their distance from the group but admire them from afar. Almost as if they are scared of them.

Anyway people are quick to come to conclusions. But you were not like that. You were annoyed. Like why the fuck you sitting next to me dude go away. But of course you're an unproud introvert. You can't just tell him to leave that's rude. So you did the next best thing. Just sit somewhere else. If he really liked that seat, he could have his nook. You're gonna go and distance yourself. Not cause you are scared of him, but you know just to be careful. (Keep gaslighting yourself queen)

Yeosang walks into the classroom and scans the big room, his eyes narrowing as he doesn't see you in your usual seat. His headphones in he hesitantly approaches the desk where you're now sitting and pulls out the chair beside you, sitting down heavily. You mentally slap your forehead. This really is helping your reputation.

Yeosang looks at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly confused. He glances around the room, noticing the other students staring at you both. After a moment of silence, he turns back to you and notices your ears are red. He asks in a low tone, "What's going on? Why are you sitting somewhere else today?" Wow he's talking to me now

Yeosang gaze stills, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're avoiding me because of what people are saying about me, isn't it?" His voice is deep, but oddly quiet. It was something you've never heard before. And you couldn't pinpoint his emotions.

"Well kinda. But that doesn't mean I actually believe them. I just don't like people." You say thinking you weirded him out and hoping he'll leave you alone assuming you're an antisocial animal.

A flicker of something passes through Yeosang's eyes at your blunt response. He uncrosses his arms and leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "I get it. You don't trust easily. Neither do I." He pauses, considering his words carefully. Bro stop talking to me ?!

You don't react to his words and just look at the front. Your whole face feels warm. It's that feeling you get when you're embarrassed. Feeling everyone's eyes on you. You felt anxious, thinking everyone was judging you. You hate this feeling. You felt exposed to everyone. Even though they don't give two shits about you. It's that bubbling feeling inside the pit of your stomach. The heaviness in your chest. That shakiness in your hands and legs. You really felt like it would be nice if the floor split in half and eat you alive.

The class finish and you quickly pack up and leave, avoiding him again. Yeosang watches you rush out the door without a backward glance. His looks at your leaving figure with a thoughtful expression. The next day, he arrives early to claim the seat next to you again, determined to break through your walls.

As the class enters, Yeosang is already seated in your usual spot, his arms crossed and pen spinning in his hand. His presence seems to command the attention of the room, but he pays no mind to the whispers or curious glances directed at him. Instead, his focus is fixed on the doorway, waiting for your arrival. When you finally enter, he notices how you hesitate at the sight of him already occupying your seat. It was then when he looked down and started to scribble something in his notebook. You try to skip the vacant seat beside him and go further behind but he reaches out and grabs your backpack, pulling it onto the empty seat beside him. He continues to write, his pen scratching against the paper in a steady rhythm. After a moment, he glances up and meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. "You're late".

You sit down quietly, take off your glasses and rub your face, ignoring him. Here we go again, I'm tired of this shit.. What does a girl do to have some peace? Witnessing your frustration, a slight smile appears on his lips as he reaches for your glasses. "Hey," he says in a low voice, just audible enough for you to hear. His fingers brush against yours as he takes the glasses from your hand, then deliberately places them back on your face, adjusting them slightly. "Wear them"

The teacher comes in and starts to teach. You sit there, staring blankly at the teacher writing on the board, but your mind is elsewhere. You replay the moment he adjusted your glasses, trying to read into his expression. You begin to imagine that he looked disgusted, that he must think you're hideous without your glasses on. You can't help but feel self-conscious. You catch yourself unconsciously touching your glasses, as if to double-check they're still there. You imagine him whispering to his friends about how ugly you look without them, how he's only sitting next to you as a joke. You felt yourself picking at your finger nails, your legs bouncing up and down continuously with the approaching thoughts.

During a brief moment when the teacher turns away to write on the board, Yeosang leans in closer to you. His voice is low and barely audible, "Stop picking at your nails, it's distracting" He says it bluntly, without any real malice, before returning his attention to the lecture.

"Im sorry" you apologise quietly. Wait why the fuck did I apologise, I did nothing wrong.

Over the next few days, a pattern emerges. Yeosang continues to sit next to you in class, trying to engage in conversation, but you always find a way to shut him down or quickly change the subject. He notices that you avoid him between classes, always taking a different route. You think it's working, driving him away slowly. Maybe he'll realise you really are weird and will leave you alone. But something quite opposite happens.

Yeosang starts to get frustrated with the constant rebuffs. He can't understand why you're so hostile towards him, especially since he's trying to be friendly. One day, as you're walking down the hallway, he blocks your path, forcing you to stop and look at him. "What's your problem?"

"What is your problem?" You say, as he blocks your path with his body. "My problem? You're the one who's been acting like I've got a disease every time I try to talk to you." You open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it. "You're always shutting me down, avoiding me, and picking at those damn nails of yours. It's like you can't stand my presence."

You look down, sighing loudly and look up to him. "Then take the damn sign man, I don't wanna talk to you or engage in any activity that involves you" yeah that'll do, that gotta be the most rude thing you say to anyone, that'll definitely shoo him off. But again, the universe says fuck you and the opposite happens. Yeosang's eyes widen in surprise at your blunt words. For a moment, he stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, he bursts into laughter - a deep, genuine sound that echoes through the hallway. This fucker-

"What's so funny?" you ask, clearly embarrassed. Yeosang continues to laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looks you up and down. When he finally composes himself, he wipes tears from his eyes and says, "Damn, I like you even more now. You're fucking hilarious. Alright, fine, I'll take the sign."

He did not take the sign. Yes he did stop directly talking to me, but he won't actually leave me alone. He is still in the shadows. He stopped sitting beside me but went behind me. He stopped walking with me but started following me around.

Yeosang finds your stubborn refusal to engage endearing rather than frustrating. Instead of backing off as you hoped, he shifts tactics. He maintains a subtle presence in your peripheral vision. You catch glimpses of him behind you in class, always watching. At lunch one day, yeosang casually sits at the table next to yours with a group of his friends. He doesn't look at you directly, but you can feel his eyes flicking in your direction

Yeosang's friends chat with him, but he only half-listens, his attention constantly drifting to you. He murmurs something to them, and they glance over at you, exchanging curious looks. His friend, wooyoung asks him "yo man, how's your pursuing that girl going?" Another guy, San, says "I don't know if you can call it pursuing dawg, all he does is follow the girl around the college like a creep." Wooyoung pops a cookie in his mouth and says "Damn man, I didn't know you were like this"

"Shut up about her." His tone is casual, but there's an edge to it - protectiveness almost. He keeps his voice low enough that only they can hear, "She's... different. Fuck, I don't know why, but she's got me twisted up." Wooyoung grins mischievously, "Ah ha! You're falling for her aren't you? You're actually trying to chase a girl who isn't subtly throwing herself at you." He laughs, nudging yeosang's arm. "But that's not really gonna work is it? you need to fucking commit to it"

Yeosang's expression darkens slightly, his eyes narrowing. He takes a swig of his soda before responding, "What do you suggest then, genius? You think I should just walk up to her and...?" He leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for Wooyoung's input. "Yes, you should" San says without missing a beat. San's straightforward approach makes him smirk, but a flash of uncertainty crosses his face. "And what if she..." He pauses, running a hand through his styled hair "... what if she thinks I'm weird?" His eyes shift in your direction for a brief moment before focusing back on his friends. "Bruh, the way you've been acting all these days, she probably already thinks of you like that by now"

Yeosang scoffs, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Fuck, when you put it like that..." He leans back in his chair, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, his silver chain catching the light. "Maybe it's time to switch things up then."

The library is large and quiet, with tall bookshelves filling the room. The shelves are packed with books of all colors. Sunlight shines through colorful windows, making pretty patterns on the floor. A few students sit quietly, reading or studying. It's a peaceful place to think and learn. As you enter the library, the usual silence is interrupted only by the rustling of pages and the occasional whisper. You find a quiet corner to sit down and start reading. After a few minutes, you hear footsteps approaching. You don't pay much attention, assuming it's just another student.

You felt them sit down across from you. Your body tenses slightly as you notice the movement, causing you to glance up from your book. Through your peripheral vision, you catch sight of the person who just sat down across from you - it's him again. It's been weeks since he has been silently following you around, but now he approached you again.

His presence looms oddly, a juxtaposition in this sanctum of silence. He gazes at you, an unreadable expression on his chiseled face, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the cover of a thick tome he's brought with him. "Hey." You answered him silently "hey...." He leans forward slightly, the movement causing the leather of his jacket to creak softly. "Look... I know you probably think I'm being kinda creepy and shit..." He runs a hand through his messy dark hair, looking uncomfortable for once, unlike his usual composed demeanor.

He takes a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. "I just... I wanted to talk to you, ya know? You're different from the other girls at school. You're always so... quiet, so focused on your books."

"You're so different, you're the most unique girl I've ever met. You're my type, are you gonna say this? All those lame shit people say in movies? Please stop mocking me" His expression freezes for a moment, caught off guard by your blunt response. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a low, genuine laugh. "Shit, you're right. That was cheesy as hell." He shakes his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. You were listening to him. But something inside you stirred and you felt angry. You remembered all those times those people in middle and high school bullied you. All those times you felt that every time you entered the room, everyone looked at your body and you felt insecure. All those times your family members indirectly forced you to believe that you can only be loved when you lose weight. And you snapped. "stop mocking me. I know people like you. you guys go up to girls like me and say you like them only to say 'April fools' or say 'its a dare' later. I hate guys like you"

His grin fades, his expression turning serious, but his eyes still hold a glint of mischief. "You really think that's what I'm doing?" He tilts his head to the side, studying your face intently. He maintains eye contact, his expression unreadable. He sees the suspicion in your eyes, and it only seems to fuel his mischievous glint. He leans forward, his voice lowering. "Let me ask you something..." He studies your face intently, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "First off... do I look like I have a problem finding girls to talk to?" He gestures to himself, a hint of pride in his tone. "And second..." His voice drops lower as he deliberately maintains eye contact. "Second what?" You shout.

"No shouting in the library student!" The librarian warned you. You sit back down embarrassed and all red.

He laughs a little and says "Second, would I really waste my time pretending to like someone just to play an April Fool's prank?" His words send a shiver down your spine as he pulls back, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or maybe..." He looks at you with a half-smirk, half-serious expression "You're actually quite... interesting. Not many people stand up to me like you do." His eyes crinkle again as he studies your reaction "And hey..." He reaches over and lightly taps your finger. You retreat your hand from his touch. His expression shifts to a playful pout, though his eyes still hold a glint of amusement "Wow, so I'm not even worthy of a tiny hand tap?" You shake your head as a 'No'. He leans back in his chair, studying your defensive posture with interest "You're not scared of me, are you?" He chuckles low in his throat, his gaze never leaving yours even though you fail to keep eye contact, "listen, can I not just like you? I like you. I want to be with you"

"No! people don't simply like girls like me" you felt like crying, but you can't. His expression turns mockingly serious, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, so you're saying you're not likeable? You think I can't like you because you're... what?" He crosses his arms, leaning forward again, his curiosity piqued. You were getting annoyed.

"You know what I am"

"No I don't"

"Fuck. Fine! Im fat and ugly"

His face freezes and for a moment, he looks genuinely shocked. But then, he lets out a harsh laugh. "Fat and ugly? He shakes his head, his gaze raking over your form appraisingly. "You really think that's what I see when I look at you?"

"You don't need to look at me like that, I am like that so fuck off I don't need you laughing at my face."

You stand up harshly, take your bag and walk outside the library. He follows you and grabs your upper arm, not harshly but firmly enough to hold your attention. "Listen carefully..." His voice softens, losing its usual mocking tone. "I'm not some creep who goes around lying to get in girls' pants." You open your mouth to say something but he quickly shuts you off. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who's honest, even if it hurts. I see someone who's strong, even when they feel weak. And I see someone who's fucking beautiful, inside and out."

"Everyone says that but that's actually never true!"

"Then tell me, what do you see when you look in the mirror? Because whoever made you believe these lies about yourself? That person's fucking blind."

"Im not about to start talking to you as if you're my therapist. You let me go"

He loosens the grip but still holds onto your hand. "Alright, But just so we're clear? You're not fat, and you're definitely not ugly. You can tell me why you feel that way"

You wriggle your hand out of his hold and finally look at him. You've had enough.

"Fine, you wanna know? I am chubby, and I'm ok with that, I have no problem being chubby. it's just tiring for me because ppl always make it seem like I'm some disgusting things that doesn't deserve humanity" you take a breath and star again, "And you cannot say anything to me because you wanted this, you wanted me to say all these"

You look down, feeling defeated. It's so weird to word these things to someone, considering you had no one growing up. No siblings, no bestfriends, no close cousins. Even your parents never listened or talked to you about how you felt. You were truly tired. You felt two hands hold your shoulder. You look up, and it's Yeosang.

"People are fucking idiots. And the fact that you're okay with being yourself makes you hotter than anyone who tries to fit into some bullshit beauty standard." His jaw clenches at your words, a hint of something flashing in his eyes. He looked angry.

"Those assholes can keep their narrow-minded opinions. Because someone who stands up for themselves like you just did? Someone who owns their worth instead of begging for validation"

His gaze intensifies, filled with a newfound respect and... something deeper. "That's the kind of person who deserves to be cherished. And anyone who can't see that? They're the ones who are fucking ugly, inside and out."

He sees the unspoken acknowledgment in your eyes, the silent absorption of his words. It's the first time he's seen you listen so intently, without pushing him away or rolling your eyes. He swallows hard, realizing the power of his words on you.

His monologue ended. And it was everything you wanted to hear all these days. The words you wanted your parents to say to you, the words you needed. He said everything. It was the first time in a while you felt like you can actually believe someone. But you were not like this. Circumstances made you so that you push away everyone. And that has become your nature. If I can push them away before they can, I won't be hurt.

"I appreciate your words towards me, but I don't know anything about your confession. I-I don't think so I can accept it"

He nods slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I get it. It's a lot to take in, especially coming from a person like me." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell you what - how about I show you my worth?"

You look up at him, bewildered. What does he want. Is he crazy? Has he lost his marbles? Is he that bored? All these questions flood your mind but only one thing slips out of your mouth, "huh?" His smile grows wider, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "You know, prove to you that I'm not just some dumb guy who talks big." He pauses, studying your face. "I'll do something for you. Something that shows you I'm more than just words. I'll court you"

You were speechless. "I-I don't need-"

He puts a finger on your lips to shut you up. "Let me finish," He says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm not doing this to pressure you or anything stupid like that. I just want a chance to show you who I really am, beyond the tough act."

Looking at your eyes, he realised how hurt you were. He exhales slowly, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely lets anyone see. "I know I'm not the prince charming type. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you deserve someone who fights for you, who understands the real world and all its fucked up beauty."

The next day, as you walk into college, you catch him standing beside the gate. Wearing his signature black attire with silver accessories. As you walked towards the gate, he saw you and he got off the wall and walked towards you. He stops in front of you, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at you with a small smile. "Morning," He says, his voice casual but with an underlying warmth. "I was waiting for you."

"Good morning" you look around and see people look at you for a moment and then look away. It made your face feel hot from embarrassment.

He holds your cheeks and moves your face towards him "don't look at them. ignore them" You both start walking towards the class. As they walk side by side, Yeosang couldn't help but let out a light chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "You know, I never thought I'd be one for this whole 'gentleman' thing. But here I am, walking you to class like some corny love story."

You were quick with your answer, "You wanted this. I'm positive by the end of this week, you won't want to be with me"

His smile fades a bit at your words, a hint of seriousness entering his eyes. "And why's that?" He asks, his voice low and even. "You think you're that hard to handle?" He smirks, but there's an underlying challenge in his gaze. You wait for him, to say further, but he waits for your answer. You look to the side, taking in a breath and say "Yes."

He stops walking abruptly, turning to face you directly. His expression is intense, a blend of amusement and determination. "Well, guess what? I've dealt with thorns, I've tangled with barbs, I've faced off against the sharpest minds and the coldest hearts."

You stare at him for a while and then "damn you really did become philosophical"

He barks out a short, surprised laugh, shaking his head as he starts walking again, this time more aggressively. "Philosophical? Nah, just stating facts." He glances at you sideways, a mischievous glint in his eye. You shake your head and follow him to the class.

Over the next few days, Yeosang continues to act like your doting boyfriend, much to the confusion and entertainment of your classmates. He walks you to class, sits with you at lunch, and even "accidentally" brushes your hands during lessons.

After school one day, he suddenly grabs your hand and starts dragging you towards the nearby ice cream shop. When you resist, he stops and turns to face you with a stubborn expression. "Come on, I'm buying you ice cream. Don't make a scene."

"I don't want ice cream"

He ignores your protests, opening the door to the ice cream shop and practically pushing you inside. "you're getting it anyway, pick a flavour"

Eventually you were forced to have a large ice cream cone with chocolate and Butter scotch, your two favourite flavours.

You both start walking towards your house "I don't like when people spend money on me" He shrugs it off, "Too bad, I spent the money anyway." He says nonchalantly, walking beside you with his hands shoved in his pockets. As you get closer to your house, he pauses and looks at you sideways, "You going to invite me in now?"

He wants to come inside my house now?

"in my house? My mom's in the house"

He looks at the door for a bit, then "how about I talk to my future mom in law beforehand and ask for her daughter's hand in marriage now." and walk right in as you had unlocked the door. You run to stop him but the damage was already done.

Yeosang finds himself standing in a neat, tidy living room. A woman with short, dark hair and piercing eyes is sitting on the couch, reading a book. She looks up as he enters and her gaze locks onto him. For a moment, Yeosang is taken aback by the intensity of her stare.

You trail behind, shocked by the ongoing staring contest between them.

He clears his throat professionally, straightening his posture "Good evening ma'am. I'm Kang Yeosang, your daughter's classmate. I was hoping we could have a word." He maintains a polite, respectful tone despite his usual confident demeanor, feeling the weight of this mother's presence.

The woman closes her book and places it on the coffee table. She stands up slowly, her eyes never leaving Yeosang's face. "You're yeosang" she states, her voice cold and calculated. "Sit down," she instructs, gesturing to the chair across from her. He moves to sit down carefully, maintaining eye contact with her while keeping his body language respectful. His usual charm falters slightly in the face of her stern presence. "I promise, I have the best intentions with your daughter."

Your mom raises an eyebrow skeptically as she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. "that's for me to decide"

Shit yeosang thinks.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back slightly and offering what he hopes is a disarming smile. "Of course, ma'am. I wouldn't dream of imposing or presuming anything." He glances around the room, noting that there are no family pictures nor unnecessary decor. Noticing the notably stern air and lack of familial photographs surrounding him, yeosang's confidence dips even further. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly wishing he had practiced this conversation in more depth. "I, uh... I truly care about her, ma'am."

"I understand that but what is it that you want?" Your mother asks him softly but with an underlying aggression.

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I mean, ma'am, that I have developed strong feelings for your daughter. I respect and admire her greatly, and I would like the opportunity to pursue a relationship with her, with your blessing and guidance."

Honestly, if you had popcorn, you'd be very entertained. Kinda well if you exclude the part that you might get your ass whooped after he leaves creating a big mess. But you hold your breath.

Your mother's expression remains unreadable, her eyes scrutinizing Yeosang intently. "You're asking for my permission to date my daughter?" She asks flatly, her tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.

he nods "yes ma'am"

She steeples her fingers, tapping her index fingers thoughtfully against her lips. "I see." She sits back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, yeosang, how can I let my daughter be with you, if I don't know anything about your future, family. I don't want her to have a miserable life and for that you need to have a job"

"yes ma'am. That's why I have everything sorted out. Im good ataths and have dreams of persuing higher Education in it. if not I have intrest in becoming a professor. and if that fails as well, I have my father's company. but ofcourse, that is the last option"

Damn that was kinda hot. Wait, brain, wtf?

Your mother nods slowly, seeming to consider his words carefully. "A good education and a solid career path. Those are important things for a man to have." She pauses, her gaze drifting to the door for a moment before snapping back at him. "But tell me, yeosang"

"Are you prepared to handle the pressure and responsibilities that come with being in a relationship with my daughter? she has been severely depressed and suicidal for the past 8 years after her dad lost everything and committed suicide" Her voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.

You felt betrayed, by your own mother. You were shocked, hurt and mostly, sad that she exposed this. You were always reserved about your feelings, shutting them off from everybody. But hearing this made you felt exposed, naked almost

Yeosang's expression softens as he realizes the gravity of your situation. He leans forward earnestly, his eyes filled with sincerity and determination. "Ma'am, I understand completely. I know I'm asking for a big responsibility. But please believe me when I say that I'm ready to stand by your daughter through thick and thin. I have experience dealing with mental health issues, as my own aunt struggled with depression for years. I know it's not an easy path, but I'm committed to supporting and loving her unconditionally."

Your mother studies him intently, her hard exterior cracking slightly to reveal a glimmer of hope and relief in her eyes. "You're a good man, Yeosang. Most boys your age would run away screaming at the thought of dealing with something like this"

He shrugs and says something that made your eyes tear,

"I love her ma'am"

Your mother's expression softens further, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "I can see that you truly care for my daughter. That's the most important thing to me." She pauses, her mind made up. "You have my blessing to date my daughter, Yeosang."

AN: whooo I got this done guys clap in the comments. I hope y'all enjoyed this and if you did, please reblog so I can reach even more people. I love yalllll

[fanbasetwo]

Ꮺ . , CUZ YOU’RE MY HYPE BOY , L.CY !

PAIRING: bf ! anton × gf ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: never in your wildest dreams had you dreampt of leaking at the wrong time but here you were, trying to hide the stain your period blood left on your bf's sheets—will you succeed? [REQUESTED] . . . . . . GENRE: fluff, fic, period talk & mentions of pain and blood obvio. WORD COUNT: 1.6k [LIBRARY] ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 sena’s note — this was such a cute fic to write, thank you to the anon who requested, ily <3

You wake up to a sharp, familiar ache in your stomach, and a groan slips out before you can stop it. The cramps are bad—bad enough to make you regret spending the night at Anton’s apartment. You weren’t planning on staying over, but it was late, and Anton, being the gentleman he is, insisted you shouldn’t walk home alone.

Now, though, you wish you’d just gone home. Because as the pain twists in your lower stomach, you have an awful realization.

Carefully, you lift the blanket and glance down, your heart dropping. There, on Anton’s spotless, white sheets, is a visible red stain.

Your period.

For a moment, you just stare at it, horrified, your cheeks burning. How could you forget it was coming? And of course, it had to happen here, of all places. Your hormones are already making you emotional, and now panic kicks in full force.

Anton is still fast asleep behind you, his soft breathing the only sound in the room. You glance back at him, guilt and embarrassment tangling in your chest. He looks so peaceful, completely unaware of the mess you’ve made.

Your mind races. What is he going to think? Will he be mad about his sheets? Annoyed that you’ve ruined his morning?

And yet, a small voice in your head reminds you of who Anton is—the same Anton who stayed up late helping you pick out groceries, who insisted on carrying your bag even though it wasn’t that heavy. He’d never yell at you. Right?

Still, you can’t shake the nerves. You’ve worked so hard to keep a good image in front of him—always put-together, always in control. And now this? How are you supposed to explain it?

Taking a deep breath, you sit up slowly, wincing as another cramp hits. You’ll have to handle this before he wakes up. You just hope he’ll understand if he finds out.

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t even notice Anton stirring behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, but you immediately squirm out of his grip.

Anton blinks, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy confusion. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, and the soft morning light barely fills the room. His brows furrow as he sits up slightly, his voice gentle and laced with concern. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You open your mouth, intending to brush it off, to say nothing, but the words catch in your throat. His gaze is too soft, too worried, and for a second, you freeze.

But Anton isn’t as clueless as you hoped he’d be. He pauses, his nose twitching slightly, his expression shifting. There’s something about the smell—unmistakably off. Not that he knows exactly what period blood smells like, but it’s… different. And it’s coming from you.

Before he can say anything, another gush of blood makes your stomach twist, and you bolt from the bed, rushing toward the bathroom. Your heart is pounding as you shut the door behind you, barely holding back tears as you glance down. Your underwear and pants are already worse than before, and the humiliation hits harder than the cramps.

You lean against the bathroom counter, trying to steady your breathing, but all you can think is: How am I going to face him now?

Anton isn’t confused—he’s just worried. The moment you shut the bathroom door, he glances down at the bed and notices the fresh red stain on his pristine white sheets. He doesn’t hesitate. Getting out of bed, he approaches the bathroom door, softly knocking as he hears the faint sound of your sobs.

“Baby, talk to me. Do you need anything?” His voice is gentle, filled with concern.

You try to keep it together, forcing out a shaky, “I’m fine,” from behind the door.

But Anton isn’t buying it. After a brief pause, he knocks again, his voice a little quieter this time. “I… I kept a packet of pads in my drawer. You know, just in case… so… you can…”

He trails off awkwardly, and you can easily picture him standing outside the door, scratching the back of his neck, trying to give you space but wanting to help.

You wipe at the tear slipping down your cheek, your embarrassment still overwhelming. “Do you… have them right now?” you ask hesitantly, your voice small.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath. “I’ll open the door. Oh gosh, this is so embarrassing.”

You crack the door open just enough to let him hand the pad through. Anton doesn’t try to look inside, and you snatch it quickly before shutting the door again. But as you glance down at your ruined underwear and pants, another wave of frustration and helplessness washes over you.

“Um…” you mutter, hesitating before you call out again, your voice shaky. “My panties and pants… they…” You trail off, staring at the bloody mess.

You groan, more to yourself than to him. “Why does it have to be me? God!” The urge to yell is overwhelming, but before you can spiral further, Anton knocks again, his voice soft but steady.

“Here,” he says, slipping a pair of boxers and shorts under the door. “They’re mine, but, um, the boxers are an old pair—probably a little smaller, so they might fit okay. And the shorts are loose, so…”

You stare at the clothes, his thoughtfulness surprising you. He adds quickly, “Oh, I put the blanket in the wash. Don’t worry about it. And… if you want me to, I could wash your panties and pants too—”

“PLEASE NO!” you blurt out, horrified. “IT’S DISGUSTING, EVEN FOR ME!”

Anton flinches on the other side of the door, your sudden outburst making him fall silent. “Okay,” he mumbles, his tone a little sheepish, before retreating to give you space.

As you get yourself cleaned up, you can’t help but replay everything in your mind, the humiliation bubbling up again. But underneath the embarrassment, a tiny flicker of gratitude lingers. Anton may have seen more of you than you’d ever intended, but his calm, gentle way of handling it makes you feel just a little less alone.

You’re not sure how much time has passed as you stand in the bathroom, rinsing the blood from your panties and pants. You know you’ll eventually need to properly wash them later—leaving them would just make the smell worse. The memory of an old, similar experience leaves you determined to clean up the mess as best as you can now, even though the situation still feels mortifying.

After finishing, you take a deep breath, shoulders slumping as you step out of the bathroom. Your hands are thoroughly washed, but guilt still weighs heavy on you. You can’t help but feel like you’ve ruined Anton’s peaceful holiday morning with this mess.

Always causing trouble, you scold yourself internally.

But the soft, refreshing smell of lavender in the air pulls you out of your spiral. Glancing around, you spot the faint flicker of a lavender-scented candle melt on the nightstand. He must have lit it to make sure you didn’t feel self-conscious about any lingering smells.

Your chest tightens, warmth blooming where shame had been moments ago. Why was Anton so thoughtful? So gentle? You couldn’t help but fall for him a little more.

“Baby,” his voice calls from the other room, breaking your thoughts. You turn, finding him standing near the bed with two plates in his hands. “I made us both—woah.”

His jaw drops slightly, and you follow his gaze, realizing you’re still wearing his shorts and boxers. They’re a bit oversized, sitting loosely on your frame, and suddenly you feel self-conscious.

“What’s that?” you blurt, quickly trying to divert his attention. Your eyes land on the plates in his hands.

“Oh, this?” He holds them up slightly, a sheepish grin on his face. “I cooked for us… since you’re on your… ehm, periods.” His cheeks flush slightly as he finishes, his voice awkward but endearing. It’s clear this is all new to him, and you realize—you’re his first girlfriend, and this is probably the first time he’s ever dealt with something like this.

You blink in surprise, glancing at the plates again. Eggs, fully cooked, sit neatly on them. It’s not perfect, but it’s not runny either. You know how much Anton struggles to cook, so this feels like a small miracle.

The realization of everything he’s done for you hits hard. He didn’t just stop at replacing the sheets or lighting the candle—he even attempted cooking despite his lack of skill.

Your chest swells with emotion, and before you can stop yourself, you wrap your arms around him. Anton flinches slightly, caught off guard with both plates still in his hands. You bury your face in his chest, mumbling, “You don’t think I’m weird?”

Anton tilts his head, the corners of his lips twitching into a small, innocent smile. “I just think you’re fertile.”

The sheer absurdity of the statement makes you laugh, even as a tear slips down your cheek. He’s so clueless yet so sincere that it’s impossible to stay embarrassed.

You pull back, wiping the tear away as he teased, “I love you, but I’d appreciate it more if you forget the stain and instead praise this chef.”

Anton smirks, watching as you plant a soft peck on his lips. He doesn’t even get the chance to pull you closer, both hands still occupied with the plates. The warmth of his love and efforts almost makes you forget the dull ache in your stomach.

Even if your cramps are still there, maybe surviving this morning with your boyfriend’s cooking and his genuine care will be enough to make the pain feel a little less overwhelming—even if his cooking turns out to be a bit of a disaster.

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[catcze]

I see you miss writing for his grace wriothesley,

Maybe, you can try with, uh,

you who drop by his office everyday, literally everyday whenever the man is by the fortress?

Bringing lunch and always kiss him wherever, be it by the cheeks, temples, forehead, or lips before leaving him alone again to continue his work?

Making him always anticipated for the short moment of solace, making him looking forward to your kisses—?

Only for you suddenly just stopped kissing him and only drop the lunch box, and left him behind. Earning a sad puppy all alone by the office?

You can ignore/delete this if there's already a similar fic of yours with this prompt 🙌🏻

— anywho, have a great day! 💜

!! This is sooo cute? I can just imagine the sorta shocked/hurt puppy dog look he gets on his face when you skip the kiss one day lol TT

Wriothesley is pouting. The man is honest to archons pouting, and you have no idea why.

Ever since you had returned to the fortress from your daily toil at the palais mermonia, your beloved has been huffy and pouting, only giving you curt answers and all but sulking in his chair when you ask him what's wrong. He's wrapped himself up in his paper work rather than wrapping himself up with you, even going so far as to seclude himself in his office during the usual dinnertime.

"I don't know either," Sigewinne whispers to you as you both have dinner in the cafeteria. "He's been like this for the whole afternoon. When I walked into his office after lunch he was sulking in his chair, looking mopey, when he looked completely fine this morning."

The melusine's words scratch a part of your brain, the one that tells you that you forgot something today, but that you're not entirely sure what it is. You wouldn't be surprised if you did, honestly— the palais was jam-packed with things that needed doing, papers that needed moving, and people that needed talking to. In the hustle and bustle of today, it's inevitable for you to miss something.

it all comes to a head after dinner, when you're relaxing in your and Wriothesley's shared quarters. It's late in the evening at this point, and you're already relaxed in the warm bed, a book in your hand as you wait for Wriothesley's sulking to crack and for him to eventually come and tell you what's got him in such a funk.

And it doesn't take long, either— soon enough, the door to your quarters opens and shuts quietly, and your beloved is standing by the bedside, looming over you, still with that pouty expression that, too anyone else, might seem out of character.

He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you. Instead, you bookmark the last page you were on and set it on your side table before pulling off the blanket and opening your arms— a clear invitation. One that Wriothesley takes immediately, all but dropping into your hold and wrapping his arms around you. He buries his face in your neck, his heavy weight pressing down on your person and pinning you to the bed, but you can't be bothered to really care about that.

With one hand running through his hair, petting him while he holds you, you ask— "Something happen?"

Wriothesley huffs a breath to your neck and the warm air dances on your skin. You can feel his cheeks warm in embarrassment, maybe, as he mumbles something incomprehensible.

"Hm?"

He does it again, and you tug on his hair in retribution, drawing him away from the crook of your neck enough that you hear what he says.

"...didn't kiss me during lunch," the fearsome duke mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes, scowling with embarrassment at his own childish admission.

You blink, turning the words over in your mind as you try to recall the events of today's lunch and— yeah. He's right. Your brain had been so muddled up with things you had to get done once you returned to the palais that you had left his office in a flurry after dropping his lunch off at his desk.

At the realization that that was why he had been pouting and sulky the whole day, you can't help but giggle.

Wriothesley, in turn, scowls at you, even as the flush on his cheeks darken considerably at the admission.

"Oh, I'm sorry my love," you coo once your giggles die down, your cheeks hurting from smiling at how sweet and funny and needy this big scary warden of yours is. "Let me make it up to you, hm?"

Wriothesley is still pouting as your hands weave in his hair and you tug him down, but the expression is quickly wiped off of his face as you make up for lunchtime— you pepper kisses on his forehead, his nose, his temples, his cheeks. Your lips seek out every inch of his face, layering it gently in your amused, endeared affections.

It's only when Wriothesley is smiling softly, melting bonelessly into your embrace and all but humming as you kiss him that you stop, pulling away to grin at him.

"There. I think my debt has been repaid, no?"

[vonlycaonwife]

hiiii…any chance you could write a gn!reader x wise fic where they are both pinning over each other? Take your time and don’t rush, make sure to drink plenty of water! Thank you 🙏

Thank you for the reminder! I honestly only drink coffee when I write lmao. But I hope you enjoy this fic! I had some fun writing this, even if the idea might’ve gotten away from me ehe…

Note: Some small implication of mc!Belle

Warnings: none

“Seriously, when are you gonna just talk to them bro?” Belle asked out loud, not bothering to keep her voice down after watching the person, who Wise was obviously crushing on for months at this point, leave the siblings’ store.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He responded, giving her a look before turning back to restocking the shelves.

“Oh please!” The bluenette almost screams, scaring the bangboo at the counter. “Don’t think you can fool me with your ‘oh I have to check the back real quick’ trick! You do it every time they’re here!”

“You’re talking nonsense.” He sighed, pointedly keeping his focus on his ‘task’.

“It’s not! Fairy, back me up!”

[Master is correct, I have noticed the pattern as well.] The AI’s voice resounds from the back. [I have also noticed the other behavioral pattern of Wise staring at the object of his affections when you both go outside and run across them.]

“What? I do not stare.” The male quickly turned his head to glare towards the backroom, though he knew the AI barely cared nor acknowledged him. Taking in another sigh, he just returned to placing the tapes in the box onto the empty shelves. “I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on this.”

“Because I want to see my brother happy?” Belle said, like it was the most obvious thing. She only got a head shake from the elder sibling, which made her huff in annoyance.

—

A few days later the bluenette had decided it was time to come up with a plan, one that they even secretly went over the probability of it working with Fairy. Even though said AI had told her it wasn’t going to work, Belle decided to go forth with her weeks-long plan anyway. Said plan being to become friends with the ‘dreamy customer’ as she liked to tease her brother about since she’s caught him daydreaming many times.

“Hey!” She greeted as the person entered the store, receiving a smile back. “Perfect timing! I already got the movie set up in my room so just head up there while I’m getting snacks.”

“Alright, thanks for inviting me.” They responded, though as they headed towards the stairs they looked back unsure. “I could help you know.”

“Nah, I got it!”

“Okay…” They quickly climbed up to the second floor, looking over at the two doors that greeted them. Luckily they had already been invited into her room multiple times before ever since the bluenette decided to open up a friendship with them. They were a bit shocked at first, but as the bluenette was insistent on hanging out with them, they slowly warmed up to the bubbly girl. 

And while it wasn’t their main reason, it was a nice bonus that the friendship caused them to run into her elder brother. Who they had formed a small crush on ever since they first came across the store. Though the good movies they had was their main reason for returning, having the opportunity to talk with him did not help with their crush festering. At least before they began to see less and less of him whenever they visited.

As they entered the girl's room, they gave the decor a once over. There wasn't any difference really, just some extra little trinkets they swear they haven't seen the last time they were here. But they didn't think about it too much before settling down on the couch, getting as comfortable as they could. They patiently waited for Belle to appear, occasionally looking over their socials. But soon a voice spoke up.

“I got all the snacks Belle, don't know why you asked me to head out to-” Wise began to speak, before freezing once he met eyes with them. In his arms were various bags of junk food snacks and bottles of different drinks. They froze as well, not expecting the male to enter the room.

The two stared at each other for a few moments before they heard Belle yell out from down below. “Oh sorry! I forgot I had something with Nicole! Watch it without me!”

Before either could say or do anything, they heard a door slam shut. The two of them just stayed there staring at each other, not knowing what to do. After a few moments, the person decided to stand up from the couch.

“I-I can leave.” They quickly said, snapping the male out of his stupor. He only sighed, grumbling within his own head as he began to realize what his sister had just done.

“No, it's fine. Would be rude of me to kick you out now.” He replied, stepping over towards the coffee table to get the food and beverages out of his arms. He could see them hesitate a tad, giving them a reassuring smile. “We'll both just have to reprimand her for triple booking.”

They chuckled in response, relaxing a bit as they sat back down on the couch. Though this time they kept to themselves to the side so as to create enough space. “Yeah. Oh, do you know what movie she picked? She never told me.”

“It's supposed to be this new indie documentary movie that we just bought.” He explained, trying his best to remember what he read from the blurb. “We usually watch the new stock before putting them on the shelf.”

“I see.”

The two stayed quiet for a bit, an awkward silence permeating through the air. Neither had any clue on how to truly talk to the other since they rarely had any opportunity to talk (thanks to Wise running away any chance he got, which he’s now regretting). Soon the male decided to start the movie.

As the film played the two watched on with very little commentary, not wanting to create another awkward silence. But occasionally Wise could hear the other mutter a small joke under their breath, causing him to smile a bit. Soon he began to respond with his own quips or opinions on the movie protagonists’ actions and attitudes, leading the two to become more casual with each other. But soon even that died down as the both could feel the tension start to rise within the film, making the two of them on edge as the protagonists argued over their situation.

“Y-You sure this is supposed to be a documentary?” They asked, their hands clutching onto their clothes a bit as the film began to show signs of something brewing behind the scenes. As more and more arguments began to sprung up within the film’s group, their nerves began to rise. In some form of unconscious comfort, they shuffled a bit closer to Wise in hope of their nerves easing. They don’t notice his own tenseness, nor the flinch he does once he realizes how much closer they were now. 

“Th-That’s what I remembered.” He stuttered, racking his brain over any other explanation for what kind of movie he was watching. It was obvious he was watching some kind of suspense, but everything he remembered in the blurb. But a sudden hand grabbing made him jump in fright, causing him to look over to see the other’s scared expression.

“S-Sorry! I-I just...” They explained, their words slurring with how fast they were talking. Their hands shook as they tried to will their grip to loosen from the male’s jacket.

Wise took in a breath, calming his nerves before giving a small smile. “It’s okay.”

The two stayed silent for a moment, the lack of noise only heightened by the movie’s lack of sound as well. Before a sudden scream resounded from the film, scaring both young adults into moving closer and wrapping their arms around each other. They could feel the other shake, trying their best to silently comfort the other.

“W-We should change the movie...”

“Y-Yeah…”

—

“Guys, I’m back!” Belle called out, expecting to hear the two to start cussing her out for her stunt of leaving them alone to watch a horror movie. But she only raised an eyebrow at the lack of response, slowly walking towards her room to see what the two were doing. “That’s weird.”

As she quietly opened her bedroom door, she gasped as she saw the sight before her. There right in front of her was her brother practically cuddling his crush as the two huddled together while they watched what looked to be a more family friendly documentary movie. It was loudly playing, quickly explaining why they didn’t hear her. She smirked, seeing that her plan had seemed to work mostly. Quickly taking out her phone to take a picture, though she forgot to account for the shutter sound effect as it spooked the two.

“Belle!” Wise almost screamed, clearing his throat so as to not look even more scared. Though it was clear to everyone it wasn’t working. Instead he just settled to give his classic upset big brother look. “Don’t do that.”

“What? I’m not doing anything~” She responded cheekily, only earning a harder look in response. “Besides you two seem to be having fun.”

“Well if it weren’t for you leaving us with a horror film.” She heard her friend reply, also giving her a hard stare. Though it wasn’t as serious as Wise’s.

“It was a horror film? Oops!” She chuckled nervously, as it was obvious no one believed her words. But as she placed herself onto the couch right next to the two she knew there weren't any hard feelings. “But we can still continue the marathon if you want.”

“I think I’m good for now, I should get home.” They said, slowly getting up. They weren’t able to catch the small frown that formed on the male’s face, but Belle was. They gave the siblings a small smile, grabbing a bag of candy. “But I’m taking these as revenge for that stunt.”

“What?! Hey, those are my favorites!” They didn’t bother to respond to the woman’s words as they casually walked out of the room. 

Though just as they reached the front door, a ping from their phone alerted them to a text. Checking it, they could see it was a text from the same woman’s room they just left. It was an image, the exact picture she took of them and Wise. They flushed as they began to realize just how it looked like they were cuddling, though they wanted to deny it since they were only trying to comfort the other from each other’s paranoia. But they couldn’t lie how cute it looked, scolding themselves in the head as they saved the picture.

Meanwhile Belle only smirked as the light scolding from Wise went in one ear and out the other. She could see that her friend had seen her message, but didn’t reply. Just as she was about to open her mouth, the voice of Fairy could be heard.

[Master, while I still believe the theory isn’t as plausible as you suggested…] The AI spoke, a small whirring hummed from below the sibling’s room. [By my calculations, the suspension bridge theory does seem to have some small merit.]

“No no no! You are not getting a part in this!” Wise huffed, crossing his arms in frustration.

[But it is very clear that even after you both changed the movie genre, your heartbeats were still high.] Fairy countered. [The same average that is typically seen when individuals are near their subject of affection.]

“You want me to send the picture to you?” She asked quickly, interrupting the male from his oncoming denial. She could see the gears turning in his head, resulting in him only sighing and turning away with an obvious blush on his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Shut up.”

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

Mistletoe

short Christmas Steddie fic I wrote while writing part 6 of Hide Your Heart that kinda turned into Byler at the end but oh well

“Mistletoe. You know what that means” Dustin waggled his eyebrows as he nudged Steve, pushing his way beside him at the kitchen counter.

Steve had come to the kitchen to be out of the way and found himself watching their group—his family—from afar, taking in the fact that they had beat Vecna and were all alive to celebrate Christmas together. At least he’d been doing that until Dustin spotted him.

“You’re gonna get a rash?” 

He rolled his eyes, “No-” 

“You’re allergic, dude.”

“I didn’t hang it!” Dustin burst.

“Then why are we talking about this?” Steve knew why, he just hoped that annoying the kid would make him drop it.

“Because! You’re here, there’s mistletoe,” Dustin gestured to the plant hanging in the living room doorway across from them, “Nancy’s here.” There it was.

“Look, Henderson, I don’t know where you got the idea that that was happening again but it’s not,” Dustin had seemed determined to get a confession out of him, no matter how many times Steve told him it was over, “We’re done, I don’t know what’s got you so sure about this but it doesn’t matter. Never gonna happen.”

Dustin deflated, just a fraction, “You just seem, I don’t know, happy.”

“It’s Christmas, everyone’s happy.” Steve deadpanned, only deflecting because he was happy, eyes scanning the room absentmindedly.

“Yeah but you seem different—like, honeymoon phase happy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” He mumbled, distracted.

“C’mon, Nancy’s great. She’s bossy and organized and all proper like you, she’s just your type!”

“Uh huh.” Steve 

He heard the front door open earlier and the only person who wasn’t crowded into the Byer’s living room was—there. He glanced back in time to see dark, curly hair swim through the room, disappearing between bodies.

“You’re looking for her now!” Dustin cried.

“Yeah, that’s nice. Hey, uh, I’ll be right back.” He left Dustin, pushing the front of his hat down for good measure and ignoring his squawk of indignation.

“Steve! This isn’t over, Steve!��� 

Steve kept walking, sliding into the living room and trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He found Robin on the couch, arguing with Mike about who knows what, and took the spot on her left. 

“What’s going on?”

“Mike’s having boy troubles.” Robin stage whispered to him.

“I am not!” Mike shot back.

“Okay then tell Steve what you told me.” Robin challenged.

Mike ducked his chin, mumbling under his breath.

“What?” Steve leaned forward to hear him better, “You gotta speak up, man.”

“I said,” Mike seethed, “I was helping the Byers decorate and maybe, kind of, accidentally told Will we were under the mistletoe.”

“Accidentally, right.” Robin teased.

“Well, what’d he do?” Steve knew Will had been nursing a long time crush on Mike and he knew Mike was working through his own sexuality.

Mike turned away, mumbling again.

“Wha—”

“He kissed my cheek!” Mike blushed, “He—I…and then I sort of ran off on him.” Mike groaned.

“Dude…Mike.” Steve sat back in disbelief.

“I know! I know! He’s been avoiding me the whole night and I don’t know what to do! I just—I don’t know how to tell him I wasn’t…like, I wasn’t mad that he kissed me. I wasn’t…oh my god. I want him to kiss me.” Mike’s eyes were wide, almost in fear. 

Steve was no stranger to the fear. He’d dealt with it himself, maybe he was still dealing with it, but he had Robin and Eddie to help him, to help each other. Did Mike know he had them? Did he think he was going through this alone? Steve got an idea, it was risky and he would have to face the fear head on, but it would be worth it. It was also something he’d been thinking about for a while and now, with all of his friends—his family here, he could do it. He glanced around the room, searching for a familiar face in the chaos.

“I’ll be right back.” He whispered to Robin when he found him.

She squeezed his hand because she knew what he was doing, of course she did, they shared a brain, “Good luck.” She whispered.

He caught Eddie’s eye before stepping into the hallway unnoticed. He heard Eddie give Lucas some excuse about going to the bathroom before they were alone.

“I wanna tell them.” Steve said immediately.

Eddie’s eyes widened, “Okay. Okay, sure. They already know about me so this is all you, are you sure?”

“Mike just realized he likes Will,” Steve explained, “I need you to make sure they’re both in the living room when it happens.”

Eddie grinned, “What are you planning?”

His grin only widened when Steve whispered his plan.

Once they were back in the living room Steve made sure to stand in the doorway, trying his best to lean against it casually, no matter how nervous he was getting. Eddie left to the kitchen with the excuse of getting one of Mrs. Byers’ gingerbread cookies and when he came back he took a spot beside Steve. Now they just had to wait.

A minute later El perked up, “Oooh they’re under the mistletoe.” She sang.

“Tradition is tradition.” Eddie shrugged, leaning over to kiss his cheek before pivoting and connected their lips instead.

Steve pulled away expecting the shocked faces of his friends and family only to be met with various knowing smiles. Nobody seemed particularly surprised at this, not even batting an eye when they announced that they’d actually been dating for a while. All but two.

Will was blushing, trying very hard but failing to look away from Mike and Mike, Mike’s eyes were wide. He was staring straight at Steve and Eddie, eyes flicking between the mistletoe and the pair. He shot a glance at Will and his eyes widened even more when he was caught. Mike turned to Steve with a desperate look, almost pleading, so Steve dragged Eddie with him further into the living room and let their friends distract themselves with their questions as the boys slipped out of the room. 

Steve bit back a smile when he saw they were heading for the back porch, a place that conveniently had its own mistletoe hanging. Steve surveyed the room, making sure nobody had seen them, when he caught Joyce’s fond smile following the younger boys. He wasn’t the only one, then.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room I had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” she had encircled your waist with an arm as she walked you to the car. She had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.” 

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[stupidlittlespirit]

OKAY BUT SCP FOUNDATION FORD. I feel like young Ford would be absolutely GIDDY to join an organization that he thinks shares his world views and mission- scientifically classifying and studying anomalies. But he would absolutely get fired for being WAY too fucking weird about like everything. He gets too personally invested and obsessed for their liking imo.

I can also see young Ford being weird about anomalous people, who he'd identify with. That's like a thesis in itself, really.

Either way, Ford would get fired and then have a lifelong grudge against them lol

Old Ford would get fired for his general "I know more than you" vibe and be convinced that they fired him out of insecurity.

Dying to hear what head cannons you have for SCP Foundation and Ford 💞

Okay so I have spent way too long thinking about this because I actually wanted to write a fic about it and I’m very devoted to the whole concept in general, so this all applies to the Ford-SCP AU I have in my brain.

I’m so fond of the series. I was often on /x/ as a kid (not the rest of 4chan because, duh) and I would spend hours on it, reading up on greentexts and believing every single fucking word. I desperately wanted to work for the shadowy American governmental orgs that kept these creatures in containment/a secret, and I was devastated when I grew up and found out that they weren’t real. (A part of me holds out hope that they are a real organisation but if America was covering shit up, we’d know because they fucking suck at keeping stuff on the DL).  

Anyway, let’s get into it, and remember that I’m playing fast and loose with everything SCP related because everything is canon and therefore nothing is canon! 

Below is everything from my AU ideas to Ford’s behaviour to fucking SCP/Ford ships because fuck it why not:

I think you’re right: young, starry eyed Ford would be psyched to get to see that kind of thing, but I do think that he’d be too focused on carving out his own path to allow himself to get wrapped up in the government’s red tape. It would be something he enthusiastically pencils into his diary and intends to follow up on, but never does because of how things unfold. 

Post-Portal Ford, however, is going to be The Guy for them. His personal intellect is attractive enough, but Ford has a lot of stuff going for him on top: he’s travelled interdimensionally, he’s spent time in places that would get even 05 Council Members to sit up and take notes, he’s had talks with beings that the Foundation would give their child’s left kidney to be privy to (not that they wouldn’t sell their kid for a bag of magic beans anyway but whatever) and he’s got more than enough knowledge to hit the ground running with minimal (perceived) liability for them. I mean, Bill alone has to be a Keter / Apollyon type object, surely? World ending scenario and all that. 

I think he would still be very personally invested and enthusiastic at that age, too. He would do better at trying to be aware of himself because he’s more conscious of being taken advantage of, but he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to just being a total nerd about it all. 

How does Ford get picked up by the Foundation?

He’d be recruited thanks to his extensive publishing on the weird and wonderful stuff within Gravity Falls (which at some point is also catergorised by the Foundation themselves) and his travels with Stan, and he would be head hunted to work for the Foundation. 

And he’d say no at first, because he’s not going to work for the government, what are you, insane?! He would want nothing to do with them, and Stan, equally, would be wary of them because nothing good ever comes from the Feds, right?  But the Foundation would be persistent and they’d give Ford appetising incentives (funding, support, tools etc) for his own research, so he’d eventually give them an inch because he'd grow to wonder what they might have on offer and they’d then introduce themselves. 

Ford would be wary but as we all know, he’s a curious cat and it doesn’t matter how many times he gets run over, he still wants to know what’s on the other side of the road even if it means weaving between cars with a blindfold on. 

Ford is obviously going to have a vested interest in the anomalies because of his own abnormalities, however I do think he’d be laughed at for even considering himself a ‘freak’ because… well…. Take a look at the guys we’re dealing with here and then say ‘having six fingers makes you weird’ with a straight face. 

Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be empathised with by some of them, even by some of the staff, but some of the beings in the SCP universe are so extreme that having six fingers is an easily-overlookable trait. I mean, the reactions would range from “okay, and….?” to “good lord, get a grip, there are real problems out there in the world, man!” to “oh my god that’s cool, he’s just like me fr”. 

Ford would quickly learn that whatever research he’s done/is doing is really nothing in comparison to what the Foundation does. Not that his work is of less value or anything, just that the Foundation is so large and the breadth and scale of their work would be unbelievable to him. He’d still think he knew best in a lot of ways but he’d be willing to listen and learn from the researchers and scientists that he did admire.

However, Ford would definitely manage to piss off every other person on the site he gets contracted to LMAO. Except the scientists he respected, though perhaps even them sometimes. Oh, and the nicer/less serious D-Class personnel, because they’d often remind him of Stanley and he’d be rather grossed out by the process of sacrificing those lesser prisoners to creatures in the name of governmental gain, so he would make an effort to be patient with them where he can. 

Not to mention that he’d kick AWF if he found out how loosey goosey the regulations are around picking prisoners for testing…. We know the Foundation has a habit of taking anyone with a life sentence/death row conviction, but we also know that not every convict is guilty. On top of that, we know they’ll take literally anyone if they really need to get some tests done and they don’t really give a fuck what the D-Class has done. I mean, they’ll take civilians too, so. I don’t think Ford would be okay with that. 

If they’re actually just awful people then he’s not likely going to care as much of course, but sometimes I read/listen to reports with D-Class in them that have just sold drugs or something, and the researcher’s are like yeah fuck it put weed-dealer Greg in the box with the mutated crocodile made out of poisonous spikes and shake it really hard, it’ll be funny! I think that would upset Ford and he wouldn’t be afraid to kick off about it (after all, any of those D’s could have been his brother at one point, right?) 

Staff members:

In terms of working with specific staff members, he’s obviously not going to have much to do with MTF or even any of the agents etc, really. Not unless he would require specific information from them during a test or something. There could be crossover if he was to get pissed off at how poorly executed a field expedition went or something, but I expect that his main area of interaction would revolve around Researchers and Objects themselves. 

Let’s talk about my beloved Dr Bright. I think Ford would have a careful appreciation for Bright. As we know, Bright is a bit nuts. He’s very eccentric and volatile, but very intelligent and good at his job as well as being personally afflicted, what with his brother’s objecti-fication within the facility. Ford would recognise Bright’s appreciation for suicide (bless him, real recognises real) given all of his own personal issues and understand why Bright might be so difficult.  

I do, however, think Ford would also be exceptionally wary of Dr Bright, given the way he’s bound to SCP-963. If you don’t know, 963 is a medallion/necklace and if you wear it you’re immortal. However, it’s tied to Bright and if another person wears it, their mind is basically wiped and replaced with Dr Bright’s. So, it would be very close to possession and for Ford, that would be very triggering, I think. Ford would be amenable with Bright and even appreciative of his work, but he’d be too nervous about 963, even if the likelihood of him being made to wear it was low. 

Next up is another fav: Dr Alto Clef. Now, I think Ford would have a love-hate relationship with Clef. 

Clef is reeeeally smart and very talented. He’s also very eccentric and weird, and is also anomalous himself, so Ford can get behind that. But Clef is also a fucking nightmare. He lies and is gross and unethical (was an awful misogynist, but possibly isn’t anymore? Hard to know for sure because there’s a LOT of information out there and no hard canon), though I don’t think he’s an irredeemable guy. Most notably, Clef has what he refers to as a ‘deformity’. He underwent anomalous alterations that prevent his face from being photographed and gave him resistance to reality shifts. Clef is described in files but you just can’t ever see a photograph of his face.   

Though I think Ford would tire of Clef quite quickly, he’d be willing to give Clef more rope than Bright. I think Clef has a tendency to be kind of jammy and very funny, so I daresay Ford might be fonder of him than he’d let on and he wouldn’t feel as uncomfortable around him as he might with Bright’s 963 issue. Clef is also aroace! Yay!

Clef lies a lot though, so he might be more inclined to kick it with Stan than with Ford in terms of down time lol 

Onto Everett Mann. Dr Mann is said to have always felt like an outcast and he was also manipulated by an entity (Mr Lie) into doing something that put others at significant risk. I think he and Ford would have a kinship with that and they’d be friends. Technically, Clef killed Mann in one AU but whatever. No big deal. I think Mann is really funny and sweet, and he’d get on quite well with Ford. 

Honourable mentions for: 

Dr Elliott - known to be a too involved in the anomalies she works on and often gets fucked up by them because of it.  

Dr Glass, because obviously. We love Dr Glass in this house! I think Ford would always be wary around a psych professional but he’d be thrilled to hear about other SCP’s and understand their ways of thinking. I think Glass would also have a field day with Ford and he’d fill up at least 4 notebooks worth of psych-eval notes on him :) 

And there are more but there are SO many more that I can’t get all of them down here or I’ll be sitting at my PC forever. 

In terms of the actual anomalies that Ford becomes fond of:

Well, we have to start off with my absolute all-time favourite: SCP-507.

I highly recommend checking out Volgun’s video on him because it’s great. Frankly, all of Volgun’s videos are great if you’re interested in learning about SCP’s in a lore accurate way. 

SCP 507 is Ford’s special little guy. Ford LOVES him. Do I ship them? Kinda. That’s my business okay don’t judge me. 

In fact, I believe Ford likes him so strongly that I think when 507 requests a hug from personnel, following a traumatic shift, Ford is the one who grants it to him. I don’t care if the timelines don’t match up, I don’t care about anything that makes that impossible. I want 507 to get a hug and I think Ford gives great hugs. Ford would even volunteer to be his escort if he had the time to spare and I think he’d let 507 hang out in his lab sometimes. 

507 has always broken my heart because he’s so scared and so alone, and they won’t let him leave or really do much of anything. He really has nobody and he has 0 control over everything in his life, and I think that would resonate with Ford a lot. 

He’d be highly interested in SCP-2700 because it’s made by his All Time Fav hot scientist Nikola Tesla. While 2700 isn’t humanoid, I think Ford would be super geeked about it solely because it’s Tesla based haha.

I think Ford would also love SCP-1762 (aka ‘Where the dragons went’), too. I find 1762 to be a really sad story and I think others agree, and Ford would enjoy them. They’re cool (origami dragons fuck yeah) and cute, but also poignant. 

He’d be naturally curious about SCP-096 but obviously, due to its nature, would have to give up the ghost on that one. 

I think Stan would like SCP-1472 aka the Multiverse Strip Club. Naturally. He’d be at risk of wandering in but, respectfully, he ain’t going to Illinois. Not for all the strippers in the world. 

Like Researchers and other personnel, there are SO many SCP’s that I can’t even remember all of the ones I think would be most relevant/enjoyable for Ford so if you have something you think he’d like then please please hit me up because I’d love to talk about it with you!! 

Ultimately, I think Ford would do some great work and make friends with some of the more pleasant scientists, and he would really enjoy himself up until he stopped enjoying himself lol. I think he’d quickly realise how controlling the Foundation is and how they refuse to let anomalies be known to the public, rightly or wrongly, and Ford would refuse to play along with them. 

He’d be vocal about his disagreement with the treatment of some anomalies and with regard to the treatment of personnel, and he’d stand strongly against any corruption, which means he’d never see eye to eye with them. Many such cases, if you take the time to read the entries. 

So, they’d fire him or he’d walk out. You’d never know for sure because Ford would insist he left of his own accord and the Foundation would insist that they [REDACTED] so… It would be a mystery. 

And the Foundation would let him leave, by the way. Their knee jerk reaction would be to terminate him, of course, but he’d leave such an impression on some of the other scientists that they’d somehow manage to convince their higher-ups that Ford offered value that would be lost upon his death, so they should let him live and just try to monitor him instead. 

Ford, being Ford, would sniff out all the monitors every single time they tried to trace him and Stan (with his great knowledge of wire taps) would help him debug their house etc if they needed to. 

Eventually, the Foundation would say fuck it, this guy is annoying as fuck, and let Ford deal with his own containment specialisms while keeping a distant eye on him/Gravity Falls at large. 

….Can you tell this has been on my mind for a while? LMAO I’m so sorry this answer got sooooo out of hand but I love GF and SCP so much that I can’t help myself. I hope that as I get better at drawing I can make some crossover art for them because it would be too cute. Plus, like I said, I’m still considering writing this. I might make a reader one but also do a gen crossover because I think it would be a riot. 

If anyone else wants to make stuff on this then please do but pleeeeease tag me because I need to inject it straight into my veins. 

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

totally get it! that makes perfect sense, thank you for telling me :)

that sounds like a fire fic! i seem to have missed a whole chapter cause this is like the first time i‘ve heard about you writing this fic but apparently you‘ve mentioned lots about it already? 😭 where was my brain when i was going through your blog smh

ohhh how did you like wicked?

sooo i sm kind of having something i‘ve labelled christmas depression and wanted to ask if you maybe could write some headcanons?

wanda has a big family and every christmas they have these big gatherings you always see in movies. since reader is her partner she wants them to tag along. reader is a little reluctant to go, because their family never had these big gatherings, because everyone kind of hated each other. christmas was never something special for them, just a random day like any other, just with sone presents. wanda is determined to get them to like christmas.

reader had always yearned for these dreamy family gatherings at christmas, so their just anxious that they’ll fuck something up or something.

cause this is what happens in my family, and i am fucking YEARNING for one of those big gatherings from christmas movies. just ONCE IN MY LIFE PLS. it’s kinda pathetic but because i don’t have that, i hate christmas movies cause they make me get emotional idk

x🧡 omg this feels like the weirdest ask i’ve ever send. feel totally free to ignore idk

ofc! and LOL yes i've mentioned it a few times but dw i talk about a lot of things on here it's okay that you missed it!! and yeah... hopefully it should be done for you guys but idk how to continue the story to get to the smut part idk i'm losing motivation and creativity

I LOVED wicked omg i cried it was so good and i just love theatre in general so seeing that musical on screen in movie format was really exciting for me

I gotchu, darling.

Wanda is super gentle with you, but not in a condescending way, more of a romantic i-love-you sort of way

She makes you wear a matching sweater with her, yours is dark green and hers is dark red, and she puts peppermint mocha in your coffee with whipped cream on top

Wanda makes sure to include many presents for you, both for your own private celebration, and presents for you to open with her family.

She also ensured that her family members (who you've met many times before, and they absolutely adore you) get you presents

You were very nervous about buying presents for them, not wanting to pick the wrong type of gift, and Wanda helps you, assuring you that her family will love anything you get them

Wanda and you spend the day before the family get together watching Christmas movies and making cookies and sweets to bring over

She holds your hand the entire car ride over, singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio as you begin to relax, your matching red and green nail polish shining

Her family is as wonderful as ever, and you gratefully accept some peppermint schnapps in your hot chocolate as Wanda's mother winks at you and pours some in her own mug

Wanda prefers mimosa's, and her family does a huge toast before lunch to thank everyone for celebrating with them

The meals are delicious, candles lit everywhere and faint Christmas music playing the entire day, and the laughter and conversation never stops

You get overwhelmed a few times, your heart swelling with happiness and a slight longing and sadness that you'd never gotten to experience this before, and Wanda's father hugs you and tells you that you're already part of the family, of course you're going to be welcomed to every celebration

Of course, you cry after that, happy tears of course. Wanda hugs you right after her father lets go, and her mother comes up to rub your back gently (I fear I may also have family issues oopsie)

You can't believe the amount of presents you receive, and you blush at the gratitude her family displays when they open your gifts to them

The day ends with the little ones all put to bed, and the cookies and milk to Santa and carrots for his reindeer all set up by the fireplace. You and Pietro giggle as you take careful bites from the cookies and carrots, and he swallows half the milk before grinning at you with a milk mustache

You sleep over that night in Wanda's childhood bedroom, after watching a Christmas movie with the rest of the adults who were still awake, your heart full as you thank her over and over again

Wanda assures you that you're family, and you'll always have a place in their home for Christmas ♡

[yanderenightmare]

Do you normally get any 'ew, you're disgusting' shit in your inbox? I just now posted my first incest fic and got one like 'i hope you don't have any siblings lalala'. Prior to that, I was like "how do these authors go untouched by antis?" but then I realised that it was a tad bit naive of me lol. I was going to respond with a taunt but decided to just delete it because it wasn't worth the effort.

Are they frequent and are they easy to ignore?

On Dealing with Hate

Good question! I was actually going to make a post on this, as others have asked me the same thing, so here we go!

♡ Personal experience!

I get my fair share of hate from time to time—more often when I publish things that are more taboo than other excepted things—for example, like you say, incest, as well as bestiality, wide age gap, born-sexy-yesterday readers, etc.

It's an odd thing, as haters will often accept the fact that I write rape for titillation but will take issue with these other tropes. But anyway, we can talk about the nonsensical opinions of haters all day, but it wouldn't really do us any good.

So, here's my advice.

♡ First off, accept that haters are gonna hate!

Some people won't like what you write. And that's fine. The problem is that they feel the need to tell you that—at which point, you'll just have to console yourself by telling yourself that no decent person would be rude to a total stranger whom they don't know the first thing about and, therefore, whatever they have to say warrants neither second thought nor reply.

With that being said, however...

♡ You gotta do what feels right!

Engage or don't engage, do what you need to feel at peace. Sure, you can be the so-called bigger man and ignore all the meanies, but you absolutely don't have to!

Of course, we can be cool as cucumbers and say, "Not worth the effort," but who are we kidding? This is Tumblr, and you're allowed to rant when you want in whatever manner you want!

So, if you feel you gotta bite back to maintain your sanity, then that's what you should!

However, I do believe there's a way to go about it!

♡ Never go to bed angry!

This is my personal advice, but if you ever choose to acknowledge hate or critique, do so with tact and with based and factual arguments instead of slinging heated insults in return.

This way, you walk away from the fight feeling good about what you've said and not worse off than before. In other words, don't stoop down to their level.

I actually feel in many ways that answering hate can be rather therapeutic this way, as you've succesfully turned something negative into soemthing positive!

♡ The difference between hate and critique!

Actually doesn't matter. You're not really obligated to answer either if you don't want to.

But for the sake of differentiating the two: "Ew, you're disgusting" is hateful slander, but "Incest is wrong, and you're actively condoning it by writing what you write" is a genuine critique.

And it bears repeating, you don't have to address either because you don't owe anyone anything.

People are entiteld to their opnions just as much as you're free to disagree, and ignore if you want!

But something I've found is that explaining it to those who don't understand why we write such things, and furthermore why people want to read it without being interested in such things in real life, is actually quite a rewarding thing to do!

And by that, I mean it might make your critics and haters understand and rethink their comments, but it can also help your existing fans deal with their own similar self-loathing, and lastly, it's even great for your own mental health for when you yourself doubt your own mental standing!

Personally, in regard to the example I used above, when I get hit with the "you're condoning this and that" I just play the argument that those who play violent videogames aren't condoning the killing carried out by their avatar. Naturally, when roleplaying a fictional version of ourselves, we're not actually playing as ourselves.

Some people have a very hard time understanding this for some reason.

But anyway, moving on.

♡ Final advice!

Ignore and delete any and all the dumb, off-handed comments you feel like. If and when you want, return their rudeness with a cheeky smile and a slap on their ass. Be as cordial as you can be but as sassy as you feel you must—like an aged Queen who drinks her fair share of likewise wine.

But whatever you do, don't ever make things personal!

Though that's also my personal advice. I think, by making personal attacks, you're not being factual anymore, and you'll only feel worse for it. And by personal attacks, I mean calling people ignorant, dumb, awful, etc. You can, of course, say that their chosen words were in ill taste, but going after them themselves won't make you feel better. So, I'd suggest avoiding it.

Anyway, hope this helps!

[storiesfromafan]

Heart Felt Gifts - Benny x Reader

A/N: so its Christmas Eve for me right now. I have gifts to wrap but I've chosen to write instead 😅

I thought a cute Christmas fic was in order. And in true fashion, this little idea came to me while in the shower lol.

Now I have to wrap presents, before finishing my Mattheo Christmas fic haha.

Warning: fluff, cute nonsense 😅

Words: 1428

You weren’t one for being woken up, but having a strong set of arms wrapping around you, and being pulled against a firm body. Your back to their chest, and you knew exactly who the body was; Benny Cross. The most delicious mix of a moan and a groan came from Benny as he buried his face against the back of your neck. Seems he had just woken up too.

You stretched lightly, placing a hand over one of his arms that held you securely. You might not like being woken up but every time Benny stays over, and wakes up to hold you close, you could definitely wake up like this without an issue. Benny squeezed you once more loosening his hold on you, as he moved his face back.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart" his morning voice pleasantly greeted your ears.

You smiled, turning in his arms so you could face the gorgeous Vandal. “Merry Christmas”. And you pecked his full lips.

Of course Benny moved in, chasing your lips for another kiss – a longer kiss. You playfully fled his advances with a giggle, but eventually gave into him. Tender and lazily Benny kissed your lips, the both of you enjoying this sweet moment. You both laid there, wrapped around the other for some time. Just talking, sharing stories and laughing.

Finally you did get up, putting on your robe and slippers, you told Benny you’d put some coffee on. He made a noise of acknowledgement, and you then slipped out from the room. Reaching the kitchen you moved around getting the coffee brewing, and putting the pot under the machine. When it was ready it began to drip into the pot. You took that time to get two coffee cups, along with milk and sugar.

Benny entered the kitchen just as you’d finished make your cups up. He kissed your cheek before taking the offered cup. You took a cautious sip, savouring the liquid and hoping it would help get you through the day. Benny was doing the same. You then took a hold of his hand, leading him back into the lounge room. Sitting on the couch together, you put down your coffee and sat back, getting comfy up against Benny’s side as he put an arm around you.

You put on the TV, finding something Christmassy to watch, though it was more background noise. As Benny seemed to just enjoy having you close. His hand would graze up and down your arm, the pads of his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. He’d kiss your cheek or neck, just for the fun of it. Another perfect moment.

“This is the perfect morning" you sighed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I got ya a little something".

With that you slipped out of Benny's strong arms and moved to your small tree nearby. Picking up a small red box with green tartan ribbon. Joining Benny back on the couch, you sat with your legs under you and offered him the gift. Looking at the gift, to you and then back to the box, he was speechless. You moved the box a little closer to him, saying it’s his.

Cautiously Benny took the offered gift in his hand. He felt the weight and it wasn’t that heavy. Bringing it to his lap, Benny continued to look at your gift. All the while you watched him. And after a few minutes you began to think a gift wasn’t a good idea, as he didn’t seem excited about it.

“I-it’s alright if ya don’t want to open it now, maybe later" you stated moving your legs out from under you and taking a sip of your cooling coffee.

Benny looked to you, hearing how your voice had changed. As well as seeing how deflated you were. Sitting up quickly, he grasped your gift in both hands. “I’m gonna open it now, baby”.

He pulled one of the ends of the bow, it came undone without a fuss. Removing the ribbon and lid, Benny was greeted to white tissue paper. Moving it out of the way what greeted him surprised Benny. There in the delicate white paper was a new pair of leather riding gloves. Reaching out, Benny ran his finger tips over the cool material. A small smile working its way onto his face. A thoughtful gift, from his thought girl.

You watched with baited breath when he had said he would open it. You were nervous, not knowing if he would like the gloves. As you’d seen his well-worn ones every time you rode with him, and thought it might be time for a new pair. You released the breath you’d been holding when you saw that smile on his face.

He likes it, thank God!

Turning to you, Benny leant in for a big kiss. “Thanks sweetheart. I love ‘em".

You giggled and smiled, heart light and absolutely over the moon. “I am so glad! I was nervous you wouldn’t like them...”

Pulling you in for a hug and another kiss. Benny whispered how much he loved them. And how sweet, caring and thoughtful you were. I don’t know how I ended up with you he had commented, just adding to your joy. Glad to hear him being so vocal. But then, while tucked in his arms, Benny seemed to freeze. Like he was suddenly unsure about something. Then it hit you, maybe Benny hadn’t gotten you anything. And that was fine, you didn’t expect a gift after a month of being together. When it came to your gift, it was just a spur of the moment thing when you saw them.

“It’s alright if you didn’t get me anything” you said suddenly. “I didn’t expect anything, really. Just happy to be with ya right now". And you gave him a big, bright smile to show him you weren’t upset.

Benny shook his head. “Nuh...I got ya somethin’...”

He then put the box down on the floor and headed over to his jacket, which was hanging by the door. From his pocket Benny seemed to retrieve something. You noted it couldn’t have been a big gift, not that you were expecting a large gift. Whatever he gives you, you would appreciate it. As it was from him. That he had thought of you when he picked it out.

Falling back down next to you, Benny hesitated before holding out a tiny box. It was green and had no bow, which meant he hadn’t shopped anywhere fancy. Taking the tiny box in your hand, you looked to Benny once more, who seemed to be shy and embarrassed. But why? What was in this box that had him acting like this. Surely it couldn’t be a curtain kind of ring, right?

With that thought in mind, nervously you opened the box with a shaky hand. Upon seeing the contents you sighed, relieved to not see an engagement ring. But what lay in there confused you. Between your finger and thumb, you picked up the contents and held it up while looking to Benny. He had gifted you a men’s ring, like one of the ones he wore.

“Ah, I know it’s the thought that counts...but” – you tried it on your pointer finger, which was your thicker finger, and it was still too big – “this ring is too big, and is a man’s ring...”

Benny chuckled. “I know, baby" he removed the ring from your finger. “It’s mine". He flashed the finger it had previously sat on.

Now you were even more confused. But then Benny moved his hand to the box you still held, pulling out a silver chain that you hadn’t seen. He then proceeded to undo the clasp, slipping the ring on the chain and then leant around you to clasp it behind your neck. It fell down under your collar bone, resting there like it had always been there.

“I’d gotten the chain so ya could wear my ring around your neck" he stated, looking at the ring before back to your eyes. “My girl should have somethin' of mine to wear, right?”

When Benny’s words washed over you, your brain registering what he’d said, the brightest smile crossed your face. Eyes lighting up with joy. You launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck while you crawled into his lap. You showered him with kisses, making Benny laugh. Being – officially – Benny’s girl was the best Christmas present you could get. And you had his ring to prove it to anyone who wouldn't believe you.

[covenha]

Synopsis: Seonghwa watches Hongjoong crash and burn and decides to revisit a good ole tactic to help his buddy out. This is a two-part spin off of the simp!verse. Pairings: nerd!hongjoong x fem!reader; guest appearances from Soobin and Yeonjun from TXT Genre: crack, my piss attempt at humor, hongjoong my poor guy is such a simp god bless his heart Warnings: swear words, witchcraft technically WC: 2.4k (I got carried away, oops) a/n: This monster of a chapter was birthed by my sleep-deprive brain from travelling for the holidays. I'm glad I put it out before christmas though because I wanna write something christmas themed before christmas day. This fic is purely fiction and does not portray what the characters are like irl. Feedbacks, reblogs, and comments are also deeply appreciated and highly encouraged! and as always please enjoy :)) Read part 1 here ; Read simp!hwa here

Seonghwa didn’t like getting involved in other people’s lives (he’s lying to himself, really. The aries in him loves making people his puppets). But seeing his best friend and dorm mate, Hongjoong, pouting on his bed whining about his sim’s wife not reciprocating his feelings, he just knew he had to intervene. If he hears Backburner by Niki playing one more time on Hongjoong’s speaker, he’s going to go clinically insane himself. 

“Okay, Hongjoong you gotta stop this! C’mon get up!” Hongjoong is currently face down on his mattress, mumbling along to the song for the nth time this week. 

The Goo Goo Dolls are dead to me the way you should be too

“Joong, I swear-”

But you bring them up along with how much I fucking miss you!

Hongjoong continues to mumble along the words to the song, almost like he’s drunk. And after this, Seonghwa swears he needs a drink too.

“Look, maybe you’re a bit of a fixer upper. I was too! But now look at me, I’m in a loving relationship and I couldn’t be happier.” he still doesn’t seem convinced at whatever peptalk Seonghwa is trying to feed him. But he does stop his singing so it’s a win in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

“I’m gonna let you in on a little trade secret of mine. As much as I look like the total rizzler that I am. I didn’t exactly get the girl on my looks and charm alone.” Hongjoong furrows his brows at this. Ignoring the fact that his friend just used the word “rizzler” unironically, he was desperate at this point. 

“An Etsy witch?!” he looks at Seonghwa, unimpressed at the boba-eyed boy. 

“Look, you just gotta trust me on this one okay?” Hongjoong sighs, I mean he was desperate. His conjured up future of you with his poodle and 2 goldfish was hanging in the balance right now. So he decided to humor Seonghwa. 

“We just gotta use a little bit of manifestation. Alexa play Take a Chance with Me by Niki!” 

With a newfound determination in his step, Hongjoong walks to class that day with one goal in his head. He had to figure out what your name was. 

“I have to find out her name?” Hongjoong furrows his eyebrows at the instructions. 

“Well, yeah. Seulgi needs to know her name for the ritual to be done correctly.” He replies in a matter-of-fact kind of tone. 

“Why can’t I just use that pink stone thingy you used?” 

“Because she has to wear it for 3 days. And, no offense, but I doubt that she would accept anything from you, Romeo.” Seonghwa pats him on the back. “But this will work, trust!” 

“You better be right, Hwa.” 

When he walks into the amphitheater, you are sitting in your usual spot typing away at something on your laptop. You were wearing a green beanie this time, seeing as the weather was getting colder. Hongjoong couldn’t help but swoon a little on the inside at you. You looked like a cute brussel sprout and he just wanted to bite you (but of course in a loving and sweet kind of way.) 

“Hi!” Hongjoong starts. “We talked for a little bit last week… I don’t know if you remember.” He shyly smiles at you. 

Oh, you remembered. He was the same guy who just randomly shouted at you before the class started. He was cute, you’ll admit that. He had a sort of nerdy vibe to him that you usually found cute in a guy. If only it weren’t for the piss poor first impression he pulled. You notice he still had that jittery look in his eyes, the same one he had last week. You didn’t like where this was going. 

“Oh, I remember.” You give him a tight smile. 

“Oh!” he manages to blurt out, albeit very loudly. This startles you and makes you jump a little in your seat. And this also causes a ruckus in the amphitheater causing eyes to look at the interaction between the both of you again. Great, you think. So much for keeping a low profile. 

“My name is Kim Hongjoong. Can I ask you what your name is?” He looks down at you with a hopeful look in his eyes. He really was cute, you think. But you hated all the eyes on you. You wanted this to end as quickly as possible and return to your peace and quiet. But you also didn’t want to embarrass this guy in front of the whole class. So, you do the next best thing. 

“My name is Wendy Lu.” You give him a fake name. 

I mean, what he won’t know won’t kill him right? You get him off your back. He gets to search up some finance major that frequents the cafe that you work at. And in your defense, she was totally cute! She also had a caffeine addiction but you digress. 

“Nice to meet you, Wendy!” Hongjoong rushes off to find his seat at the back of the room with a beaming smile on his face. This Etsy witch Seulgi sure did have her work cut out for her. But I mean, if she could get Seonghwa a girlfriend, she could totally get me one, right? 

“So, her name is Wendy Lu. I came up to her this morning and asked for her name, and she totally smiled at me! I got this one in the bag.” Hongjoong is beaming with glee at Seonghwa. 

They’re walking down a part of town that is a bit of a ways away from their usual path to their dorm but they had to make a detour to go to Seulgi’s physical store to get some supplies. She wrote down some instructions for Hongjoong to follow in his ritual for love spell casting and then they were off on their merry way back to their dorms. Unfortunately, Seonghwa had a 10-page essay he had due that very night to which he was very sorely behind on. 

“Can we go grab some coffee first? Either I’m going to finish this essay or it will finish me.” Seonghwa sighs, a stressed look on his face as he turns to the closest cafe that was on their route. 

That’s when they are greeted with you manning the cash register of the cafe. There’s a line at the cash register because this is usually when the cafe is at its busiest and you don’t even notice them coming in. Hongjoong is trying to contain himself and keep his chill. But he can’t help it if you look so effortlessly beautiful with your hair tied up and in your cute barista apron. The man is basically shooting heart eyes your way but you’re too busy taking orders. 

“My usual, please. To go.” Wendy Lu tries to give you the best smile she can, but it just ends up looking like a twitch on her face. Midterms must be coming up, you concluded. Sucks to be a finance major. One iced americano with 4 espresso shots, coming right up. You finish ringing in her order and give the ticket away for your co-worker to start on her drink. 

“Hello, what can I get for you today?” You bring your head up from the cash register and feel a dread settle into your stomach. It was the guy from earlier. Hongjoong, if you recall correctly. 

“I’ll have a Vanilla latte, and a pistachio bagel please.” Seonghwa replies. 

“Oh, and uhm. I’ll have a Caramel Macchiato with a tuna melt.” Hongjoong adds. 

“Will you have this for dine-in or take-out?” 

“We’ll have it for take-out, please.” 

And as you finish ringing up their orders, you forget one crucial detail that just managed to slip your mind. Wendy Lu. 

“Iced americano for Wendy Lu!” your co-worker, Soobin, shouts. 

Both boys look at you with confused eyes as Wendy Lu grabs her drink from Soobin and rushes off. You try to ignore the tension in the room but Hongjoong blurts out, “I thought you were Wendy Lu?” 

“Well, Wendy is a pretty common name.” You just nervously giggle off and hope he doesn’t press further. 

“Hey, Y/n. Yeonjun needs help rolling out the croissant dough in the kitchen.” Soobin interrupts the awkward conversation. “I’ll finish that up for you, go help him.” 

“Right.” You give them one last glance before walking over to the kitchen. 

And we are back to square one with Hongjoong. Well, not necessarily square one, more like square one and a half. Seonghwa likes to look on the brighter side of things. 

“Hey, at least you know her name! And besides, this ritual thing will still work, so what if she gave you a fake name at first.” Seonghwa tries to console his distraught dorm mate. 

“When you become best man at my wedding, can you leave this part out of your speech please?” Hongjoong just lies on the floor and pouts at him. 

“Oh, the part where you crashed and burned the first time you met your future wife? Sure.” Seonghwa deadpans at his friend. 

“Now, just do the ritual, my guy. I have an essay to write and you have a girl to wife up.” Seonghwa motions for him to get up. 

“Fine.” Hongjoong gets up and goes to get his supplies for the ritual but notices that the instructions for the ritual are gone. He furrows his eyebrows and digs through his things trying to find them but they don’t seem to be anywhere. He asks Seonghwa if he’s seen them anywhere but he claims to not even have held the paper. This confirms a theory he’s had in his head that sends a storm of unease to his stomach. 

He remembers putting his stuff out while waiting for his tuna melt to be heated up. The last time he remembers seeing that pink sheet of paper was at the cafe table. He had to go back to that cafe. He checks the time and it’s around the time that it closes, if he remembers correctly from the door. If he rushes now, he could get to the cafe right before it closes. 

So he rushes out the door yelling out that he was going to the cafe, leaving a very confused Seonghwa to attempt to finish his essay. 

Hongjoong arrives at the cafe on a mission to find that pink-ruled piece of paper that holds the key to his happiness. The cafe is deserted at this point, the door sign says “closed” but he can still see you and your two other co-workers cleaning up the establishment. He gulps.

Here goes nothing. 

He knocks on the door to the shop and points to the locked door. 

You and Soobin shoot each other a look and Soobin walks up to the door.

“So that was lover boy, I assume?” Soobin glances down at you as you wipe down the counters behind the cash register.

“Oh scarf guy?” Yeonjun pipes up. 

“Yeah. Kim Hongjoong.” You tell them. “Guy seems sweet and all but he brings so much attention during class. Made me want to disappear into my seat.” 

“Well, seems like lover boy’s got it bad. He was going to cast a spell on you.” Soobin says trying to imitate a dracula accent. 

“What? No way.” Yeonjun dismisses him. 

“Look. He left it at the table they were at. Even went to that trinket shop down at the corner next to the deli. Poor guy was going to get Wendy Lu to fall head over heels in love with him.” He waves a pink piece of paper around. 

You grab it and look at what’s written down and stare in utter disbelief. Was he really willing to go this far? 

“Man’s a simp if I’ve ever seen one.” Soobin concludes. 

“He just doesn’t know when to give up. I mean, you were pretty straightforward the first time around. Take the L, my guy.” Yeonjun shakes his head. 

“Hmmm, well I thought it was a bit harsh. But he is persistent. I'll give him that.” Soobin shrugs. 

“Ugh, I was too harsh, wasn’t I?” You ask, to no one in particular. But you didn’t mean to be harsh. Being the center of attention was never your favorite thing and it brought out a side of you that had no filter. 

“Are you forgetting the fact that he hired an Etsy witch to make him fall in love with you?” Yeonjun reminds you. 

“Well, I don’t really believe in that kind of stuff. Pink rocks and weird drawings? Be fucking for real.” 

And as luck would have it, a knock on the door stops your discourse. It was Hongjoong. You and Soobin share a look and he goes to tell him that the place is closed but then you stop him. 

“Wait, Soob. I need to talk to him.” You stop Soobin as he reaches for the door knob. 

Hongjoong panics when you see him walk over to the door knob. Oh God, she knows. She’s gonna think I’m some creep! I mean, on paper it does seem creepy that some guy who she’s talked to like thrice has some instructions from some dodgy Etsy witch on how to make her fall in love with him but he swears he means no harm. 

You go over to open the door. 

“Hey, Hongjoong.” You start. You wipe your sweaty hands off using your apron. Confrontation was never your best feat, but it seems like the universe had different plans for the both of you that evening. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. I apologize for being kinda harsh to you the first time we talked. You seem like a sweet guy, but you kinda put me on the spot and I was pretty uncomfortable back then….” You explain yourself. 

“O-oh! Well, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I never meant to do that I swear! I just, you’re…. Pretty.” He shyly smiles at you. 

This is the first time you are actually able to take a good look at him and you start to notice little details you never did. The slope of his nose, the glasses that frame his face, the dimples that decorate his cheeks, and the one finger he has painted with nail polish. He was kinda cute, you concluded. And as he calls you pretty, you can’t help the heat that rises up your cheeks at his confession. 

“Well, if you wanna, we could do it the old fashioned way. You know, the one where there’s no Etsy witch involved.” You shoot a small smile his way when he starts floundering and trying to come up with a way to explain himself. 

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

Hongjoong walks back to the dorm with a dumb smile on his face. Seonghwa was so totally gonna be his best-man at his wedding. 

[nknoxe-n]

☆★☆★→ Call Me Back? ←☆★☆★

Synopsis: Reo doesn't love you, and you don't love him, right? But you're both liars to each other and to yourselves

Tags: [angst] [pre established friendship][shitty ending its comfort I just suck at endings][not a nice ending but not a bad one in terms of angst][You both being in denail][unknown mutual pining][miscommunication]

w.c 4.7k

a/n: I think this is the longest fic I have written so far and surprisingly it's for Reo.. basically saying the rest of my account is Shidou and Rin. It is NOT proofread and I do hate it but who doesn't like two friends that can't tell they love each other and also if you see this and like my writing, I'm doing a match up event for 100 followers starting on the 26th :D

It had always been so easy to be around Reo. No matter how different your worlds seemed, no matter the distance that existed between his wealth and your modest upbringing, there was a connection that felt natural, effortless. The laughter came easily, whether you were sharing snacks on lazy afternoons or getting caught up in competitive gaming sessions where the stakes were nothing more than pride.

You didn’t care about the lavish gifts he’d sometimes try to give you, the ones that were meant to impress. Expensive perfumes, designer clothes—it all felt like an attempt to buy your affection. But you’d never wanted those things. They never impressed you the way he thought they might. You’d much rather have a poorly written note that made him smile, one that carried his personality, than something shiny with a high price tag.

When you thought about the moments that meant the most, it was always the simple ones. The evenings spent binging on snacks that could only be described as “junk” food, yet they were filled with laughter and inside jokes. The way he would tease you for your competitive streak, then turn around and beg you for a rematch when you beat him. Or how, when you lost, he’d give you that grin of triumph, but it never felt like he was rubbing it in. It was just… fun. Simple. Real.

There were nights when you both stayed up talking, no agenda, just sharing pieces of yourselves. You knew about his pressures, the expectations that came with being Mikage Reo—the heir to a powerful family—and he knew about your dreams of independence. You had your whole life planned out. The university you were determined to attend abroad, the job you’d pursue once you finished school, the career that would give you the freedom you craved. No amount of wealth or grandeur could sway you from your path.

Sometimes, Reo would try to convince you to let him help, but you always politely declined. You weren’t interested in shortcuts. The hard work and grit that would get you to where you wanted to be was far more appealing than any easy way out.

“What’s wrong with a little help?” he’d tease, flashing a mischievous grin your way.

You’d roll your eyes playfully. “Because I can do it on my own. I don’t need anyone else to build my future for me.”

He would just shake his head with a chuckle. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

And that was the beauty of your friendship. It wasn’t about what you could offer each other in terms of money or status. It was about something deeper. The way he respected your independence, your drive. And how you never once asked for anything he could buy. You valued his company, his time, and the moments you spent together. You didn’t need anything else.

The bond between you two wasn’t built on pretense—it was built on shared understanding, laughter, and the kind of genuine moments people only experience when they’re not trying to impress anyone.

-

It was one of those nights when the air felt thicker than usual, the world outside humming quietly as you sat beside Reo on the balcony, the distant city lights twinkling like stars scattered on the earth. You were leaning against the rail, looking out over the view, and he was beside you, feet dangling off the edge of the low wall. For a moment, the silence between you both was comfortable, the kind that only happens when there’s no need for words. But there was an edge to it, something that had shifted recently—neither of you could place it, but it was there, hanging in the space between your breaths.

"How’s it been going?" you asked quietly, your voice gentle but carrying a weight of understanding.

Reo let out a slow sigh, running a hand through his hair. "The usual," he replied, but you could hear the tiredness in his voice, the subtle cracks that slipped through the mask he wore so well. "The pressure to be everything everyone expects me to be… it's exhausting. I can't even remember the last time I felt like I could just… relax. Be myself."

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you simply turned to face him, your gaze soft as you caught the faintest trace of vulnerability in his eyes. Reo Mikage was never one to let anyone see him like this, to share these moments of uncertainty, but somehow, with you, he always felt a little lighter. Still, he kept his distance, pushing himself to be the heir, to fit into that mold. It was as if he’d built a wall around himself, and you were the only one who seemed to see the cracks in it.

"I know it’s hard," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you’re allowed to be more than just the heir. You’re allowed to be you, Reo."

There was a quiet pause as your words hung in the air, and then he turned toward you. His expression softened, his lips curling slightly into a small smile. "You always know what to say."

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but inside, your heart was beating a little faster. There was something in his gaze, something that made you feel like he wasn’t just listening to your words, but he was seeing you in a way that was different from before.

And maybe that was why, when his fingers brushed against yours as he reached for the can of soda between you, the touch lingered a second too long. You couldn’t even call it an accident—it wasn’t, not with the way he hesitated, his hand barely leaving yours before he withdrew. The brush of his skin against yours felt like a spark, a tiny flame that started to flicker in the depths of your chest. It wasn’t anything monumental, but it felt… different. You couldn’t help but glance at him, only to find his eyes already on you, the faintest trace of something unreadable in them.

You didn’t pull away, though. It would’ve been too awkward, and somehow, in that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. Neither of you acknowledged it aloud, and yet, both of you were acutely aware of it, even if you didn’t say anything.

The rest of the night was quiet. But there were subtle things that began to shift. When you joked around, he’d laugh a little longer than usual, his gaze holding yours a second too long. And when you’d talk about your future—your plans to go abroad, to build your own life—he listened with a sort of intensity, the kind of focus he usually reserved for the most important matters.

Over time, your friendship with Reo began to shift in ways neither of you quite understood. The moments that once felt light and carefree started to carry a new weight. The way his hand brushed against yours as you passed the snacks or how he always seemed to linger a little longer than necessary when handing you something—those small, subtle gestures that had once been innocent started to stir something deeper.

It wasn’t anything overt at first. Just moments that seemed to stretch a little too long, a little too quietly. You noticed how he would sit closer than before during game nights, his knee occasionally brushing yours, and how, when you laughed too hard, his gaze lingered just a little longer than usual, like he was trying to capture the moment in his mind.

There were times when he would glance at you with something unreadable in his eyes, his lips curving into that smile of his—half-amused, half-wistful—and you found yourself wondering if there was something more to it. But you brushed it off, convincing yourself that it was just the comfort of your long-standing friendship. You were close. Maybe too close. But friendship was all it would ever be.

The more time you spent together, the more you realized how easy it was to slip into moments of closeness that didn’t seem to make sense. He would look at you after a silly joke, his eyes lighting up with that spark that made you smile back without thinking. You’d find yourself stealing glances at him when he wasn’t looking, your heart skipping a beat when your hands brushed in passing.

One evening, while watching a movie, you felt him shift closer to you. At first, you assumed it was because you’d both gotten too comfortable, but when his shoulder lightly pressed against yours, you froze. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed there, his arm brushing yours once more. The proximity felt different. It was a closeness that wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. You tried to play it off, shifting awkwardly and pretending not to notice the way your heart was racing in your chest.

But you could feel his warmth beside you, and something in the air between you both shifted. There was no overt confession, no grand gesture. But in that moment, you both seemed to exist in a space where words weren’t necessary. The silence was enough.

Reo, as always, was the first to speak. But this time, his voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the screen, but his voice carrying an undertone of something more. Something that felt a little too intimate.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you just leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. You both had been through so much—him with his family, you with your plans for the future—and yet, this simple act of being together, of sharing this quiet space, felt like it was everything.

“Me neither,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, even to yourself.

And maybe that was the issue. Maybe you both knew, deep down, that this was something more than just friendship. But neither of you dared to speak it out loud. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

-

Reo was acting strange. Well, stranger than usual. You noticed it a few days ago, but it wasn’t until now that you started to realize something was different. He was still his playful, affectionate self, but there were subtle changes. He’d call you more frequently, texting to check in on your day, asking about the little things, the details that he never cared much about before. He started showing up at your place unannounced, offering to drive you to class, waiting outside after work to grab coffee—small gestures that, at first, seemed like his usual friendly acts.

At first, you thought you were just reading too much into things. After all, Reo had always been affectionate—playful, a little too clingy sometimes—but it was just who he was. You didn’t think anything of it. You didn’t want to.

One evening, you both sat at his place, watching some random movie that neither of you were paying attention to. Your legs were tangled together on the couch, your head resting against his shoulder. His fingers lightly brushed through your hair as he casually turned the volume up.

It was the closeness you were used to, nothing new. But the tension in the air was undeniable. His hand, which had casually landed on your knee, now lingered there. You shifted, and Reo adjusted so his leg brushed against yours. The small, gentle touches, the unspoken connection—it all felt so natural. So… familiar. Yet, in the back of your mind, a small voice kept reminding you that things had been different lately.

Reo cleared his throat. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

You turned to him, a little surprised by his tone. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. You?”

He paused, his eyes flickering to yours before quickly looking away. “I’ve been thinking… about a lot of things.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push him. “What kind of things?”

He hesitated, as if the words were caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth. Finally, he spoke, but it was quieter than usual, almost as if he was uncertain. “I don’t know. Just… about us. About how you always seem to know just what I need.”

You blinked, confusion flickering across your face. “Reo, we’ve been friends for so long. You know I’ve always got your back. You’re like family to me.”

Reo's expression faltered for just a moment. “Yeah, family. Right.” His voice trailed off as if he was trying to mask something deeper, something that wasn’t quite right. You didn’t catch it, though. To you, it was just another typical moment in your close friendship.

As the night went on, you both chatted and joked around, just like always. But your words stuck with him. Maybe it was his attempt at courting you—he wasn’t quite sure—but every time you responded with your usual platonic affection, it only reinforced his uncertainty. He didn’t know how to turn this friendship into something more, but he could feel that familiar warmth growing inside him every time you smiled at him. Every time you’d laugh, he felt that little spark. But when you called him “family,” it felt like a wall went up between you two.

The next day, you were hanging out at your favorite spot again, and Reo was acting more distant than usual. His phone buzzed, and he picked it up, reading something with a frown. He quickly stuffed it back in his pocket and shifted in his seat. You noticed, of course, but you didn’t mention it.

“What’s up?” you asked casually.

He glanced at you but then quickly looked away. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about a few things.”

“About what?”

Reo rubbed the back of his neck, looking more flustered than he usually did. “You know… maybe I’m just overthinking things. Forget it.”

It was as if a light bulb flickered above your head, and the pieces finally began to fall together. Reo was acting weird because he was interested in you. But the idea felt ridiculous, and it only made sense if you were misinterpreting his signals. You’d been friends for so long, and now suddenly, he was acting like he cared about you in a way that wasn’t just friendly. You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. No way.

You could feel the awkwardness stretching between you both now, as though there was some unspoken barrier that neither of you could cross. Reo’s attempts at deeper affection fell flat as you kept responding with the same ease, the same nonchalance. He was used to being loved and adored, used to being in control. But with you, it was different. It always had been.

That night, he finally said it—the thing that had been on the tip of his tongue all this time.

“I just… never mind.” His voice trailed off as he stood up, his frustration simmering. “Forget it, okay? I didn’t mean anything.” Only to immediately clam up, backtrack, regret.

You looked up at him, frowning. “What are you talking about, Reo?”

He didn’t respond at first. He just shook his head and muttered, “I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know anymore.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable, before he grabbed his jacket and walked out without another word.

Over the next few weeks, Reo threw himself into his work with Nagi, both of them pursuing their shared dream of becoming the best in soccer, and while it was mostly Reo's dream, it always has been, Nagi was his 'treasure' and key into the professional leagues. You noticed the subtle shift as he started spending more and more time with Nagi—long hours in practice, late-night strategy sessions. The calls and texts from Reo became less frequent, his absence more apparent. It left you with an uncomfortable emptiness you hadn’t expected.

At first, you were relieved. Maybe he’d gotten over whatever had been bothering him. But as the days wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. And you couldn’t help but wonder if it was your fault. Maybe you had pushed him away without realizing it. Maybe his feelings had been more than you had given him credit for.

You began to notice how much you missed him—the laughter, the ease, the way he could brighten any room just by being in it. You missed his presence, his warmth. And it started to sink in that you might have missed your chance to admit that, perhaps, you felt the same.

But now, he was slipping away, and you were left wondering if it was too late.

-

The game had ended, and Reo was still riding the high of his win as you stood at the edge of the field, waiting for him. You had come to watch, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. You had always supported him, even when his focus was more on the game than on anything else. He always seemed to forget to acknowledge you at times like this, but you didn’t mind. That was just how he was.

When the game ended, you waited for him near the stands, feeling the cool evening air wrap around you. Reo found you quickly, as he always did, a smile on his face as he jogged up to you. “Hey, you came,” he said, a glint of surprise in his eyes.

“Of course I did. How else would I know if you’re any good?” you teased, smiling back.

“Of course, you know I’m the best,” he said with his usual cocky grin, but there was something behind his eyes. Something softer.

The walk home was quiet, an almost uncomfortable silence hanging in the air between you both. You’d gotten so used to the easy banter, the casual conversations, and now there was this strange distance. It wasn’t that you were upset with him—not entirely—but something was missing, something that had been there before. You glanced at him, watching as he kept his gaze straight ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, his face slightly tense as if he was trying to keep something from spilling out.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling that had been nagging at you for the past few days—the weight of the silence.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Reo,” you began, your voice hesitant, but your heart felt like it was already halfway out of your chest. “I… I got accepted into the university I’ve been working for. The one abroad.”

His stride faltered for just a second. He stopped walking for a moment, turning to look at you, his expression unreadable. “You got in?” He asked, a mix of surprise and something else, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep the pride out of your voice. “It’s been the plan for a while now. I’m… going soon.” Your chest tightened, a mix of excitement and sadness flooding through you as the words left your mouth. It was everything you had dreamed of, but now it felt so heavy.

You looked over at Reo, and his smile was a little too tight, his eyes almost shadowed. He opened his mouth, but no words came out immediately. Instead, he turned his face away and began walking again, his steps slower now, as if weighed down by something.

“I’m… proud of you,” he said quietly, still not looking at you. “You deserve it.”

The silence between you deepened, suffocating almost, until Reo finally broke it again. “I’ve… I’ve been scouted,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For a soccer program called Blue Lock. I’ll be leaving soon too.”

You froze in place, your breath catching in your throat. “Blue Lock?” you repeated, trying to make sense of his words you didn't know if that was good, but he always told you getting scouted by a big team or youth program was one big step towards his goal. “But… that’s huge, Reo. That’s amazing.” A part of you felt like your heart had just been ripped out, though you couldn’t understand why. Maybe it was the fact that you were both about to embark on separate paths—two dreams pulling you in opposite directions.

“I know…" he continued, his voice slightly strained. “I’ll be gone for a while. A long while. I don’t even know what’s going to happen after that. Things are just… changing, and…”

He trailed off, and for the first time in a while, you saw the cracks in his façade. It was the first time he didn’t seem sure of himself, didn’t have the answers.

Your stomach twisted painfully, and before you knew it, the words slipped out. “Reo, why didn’t you… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He flinched, his eyes softening for a split second, before he looked away again. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t want you to think I was just… going to leave. I didn’t want things to change, but they already are, right?” He stopped walking again, turning to face you, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re going, and I’m… leaving too.”

It was then that everything seemed to crash down on both of you at once. You stood there, facing each other, caught in a whirlwind of feelings that neither of you had fully processed until now. You had both been avoiding the reality of it, pretending that things would stay the same, even when they couldn’t.

The words started to tumble out of you, overlapping and colliding with his own. “Reo, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, with everything changing—”

“I don’t want to lose you, okay?” Reo blurted out, his voice raw and desperate dominating yours. “I never wanted things to be like this. I—I don’t even know how to do this. I don’t know how to… let you go.”

Your heart stopped, and you stood there, frozen. His words echoed in your mind, but there was something more beneath it, something unspoken, hanging between you two like a fragile thread.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Reo,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But we can’t keep pretending like things won’t change. They already are. We already are.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, and for a brief moment, you thought he might say something more, something that would bridge the gap between you two. But the moment passed, and instead, he just let out a shaky breath, rubbing his face with his hand.

“I guess we’ve both been holding on to the wrong things,” he muttered, a bitter edge creeping into his voice.

And that was it. No more words. No more attempts at fixing things. The space between you had become too vast for easy fixes, and neither of you knew how to close the distance anymore.

Reo let out a breath and looked down, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I… I should go…. Call me later?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to stop him. The emptiness settled in quickly, and as Reo walked away, you felt something in your chest snap, even though you couldn’t quite say what it was.

It wasn’t just that he was leaving. It was that, for once, he was being honest with himself—about his feelings, about everything. But the timing, the way everything had come to light, made it too late.

-

The days after that evening with Reo felt like an endless stretch of time. You focused on your studies, your new life, and the overwhelming rush of excitement that came with your acceptance into the university abroad. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t perfect, but you were moving forward. Every day felt like a step toward independence, toward the life you had always planned, and you couldn’t afford to look back.

The first few days after your conversation with Reo were quiet. You couldn’t call him. You just couldn’t bring yourself to. Not when everything felt so raw, and not when his words, filled with uncertainty and bitterness, still echoed in your mind. You told yourself it wasn’t worth dwelling on. But still, it gnawed at you—why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he answered when you tried?

Eventually, the urge to reach out became too strong, and you grabbed your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed his number. The seconds stretched into minutes, but there was no answer.

You tried again. And again. Until the hours passed, your frustration growing with each failed attempt. Your chest tightened, and a bitter feeling pooled in your stomach. Was it something you said? Something you did? Had you been too abrupt when you told him about your future? Or maybe… maybe it was something else. His life was about to take a new direction too, wasn’t it?

You tried not to overthink it. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t your fault. That maybe, just maybe, Reo needed time to himself too. But even as you sat there, staring at the phone screen, the silence felt suffocating. Your mind spun in circles—why hadn’t he called back? You had been so close, you had been his constant, and now… now, he was gone. No word, no explanation. The uncertainty ate away at you.

And after that, you didn’t try again. Days turned into weeks, and then months. Your life was in full swing—uni life, dorm life, new friends, new experiences. It was all overwhelming and exhausting, but it was yours. And yet, every time you caught yourself thinking about Reo, you couldn’t remember why it had hurt so much back then. Maybe it had been the suddenness, the unfinished conversation, the realization that your paths were diverging.

But even as life carried on, you still found yourself replaying that moment—the last time you saw him. His words. The way he looked at you, like something had shifted, but neither of you had known how to face it.

That day, you were sitting on your dorm couch, textbook open in front of you, trying to study. You glanced up absentmindedly, the sound of the sports channel filling the background as white noise. It was just a game, something to pass the time while you tried to focus. But then the camera panned to the field.

Your heart skipped a beat.

There, on the screen, a match between the U-20 team and Blue Lock, the program he'd told you about, the feed was pre-recorded, this would have happened hours ago back in Japan but was only coming to you now. But there was no mistaking it. It was him. Your best friend.

You froze. Your heart thudded in your chest, the weight of emotions you had buried deep in your heart suddenly resurfacing, sharper than ever.

Without thinking, you grabbed your phone from the table beside you, fingers trembling as you flicked through your contacts. You stared at his name, sitting there on your screen, and the weight of the decision hit you harder than you expected.

You hadn’t called him in months. You hadn’t even thought about calling him after those first few failed attempts. But now, now you wanted to reach out.

You hesitated, then pressed the call button and let it ring.

Each second felt like an eternity. Your heartbeat matched the rhythm of the call, and just as you thought it would go to voicemail again, it clicked.

Reo’s voice, so familiar, so distant, crackled through the line. “Hello?”

What did you say now? 'Reo I love you and I know you haven't called me back since I left and we'd probably never see each other between my school life and your soccer career but I saw you on TV and almost balled my eyes out because I miss you so much? No.'

So you settled "Hey… It's me… You told me to call you back? But uh.. you never answered…" "...I miss you"

[feroluce]

For reasons to be expanded upon at a later date (because I love the little bits about Boothill and possible paranoia/betrayal canon gives us so very dearly HNGH) I think Boothill like... He won't let himself fall into disrepair or anything of course, but he reeeeeeeeeeally does not like letting other people poke around at his body. It's a necessary evil to him. He does whatever maintenance and repairs he can himself. He started out with a massive knowledge deficit, simply because he didn't really have any exposure to that kind of technology until he left Aeragan-Epharshal, but he's taught himself a lot since then, he worked really hard at it!

Anyway, the point being, Boothill generally isn't super trusting of people.

But I think he would come to make an exception for Himeko, since he trusts Dan Heng a lot, and Himeko is one of Dan Heng's once-in-a-lifetime dearly beloved companions.

Himeko is so unflappable, I don't think she would even bat an eye about anything he throws at her, either. Like she enters the Parlor Car one morning (she's always the first one up) and Boothill is already there, waiting for her.

"Mornin', Madam Navigator."

"Good morning, Mr. Boothill."

And despite the fact that he blatantly broke into the Express (Pom-Pom is NOT happy about this JDKSAJDSKL), Boothill tips his hat, greets her politely, and is nothing but respectful when he says he has a favor to ask of her. Except it won't stay a favor long, of course- he has every intention of paying it back.

Himeko never agrees to things blindly, but she does bring up that all the knowledge Boothill contributed during the Charmony Festival was essential to preventing the universe from being pulled into Ena's Dream. And they were able to hold onto the Jade Abacus because Boothill used Tiernan's burial relic to summon the Galaxy Rangers instead. The Astral Express owes him a debt of gratitude, and besides, he's a friend of Dan Heng's. Of course she'll try to help him.

Boothill fidgets a bit, quickly brushes off the thanks, and tells Himeko he's having a problem with error codes. He keeps getting the same one, seemingly at random times, but the darn thing has no obvious cause. Dan Heng mentioned Himeko had been the one to rebuild the Astral Express. He knows it ain't the same, but it's not like he's askin' for any major repairs or nothin'. He was wonderin' if she could just take a look, maybe offer him some insight, since she seems to be somethin' of a mechanical wonder.

So Himeko walks him back to a another car, where she goes to tinker with machines without them crowding her bedroom. It's all neatly laid out and organized, and it only takes a second for Himeko to locate some specific device with a long cord. Instead of plugging it in herself, she holds the end of it out to him, like an offer rather than a demand, and Boothill visibly relaxes a bit. He still eyes it just a little warily for a second, but he accepts and plugs it into the port on his side.

Himeko pulls up the list of all recent errors, and they really are all the same. Boothill has had multiple temperature alarms over the past couple of weeks since the Charmony Festival, and they know it's not the environment, because Penacony is mostly dreamscape and kept mild year-round. The long-forgotten natural deserts are too far away.

Boothill is staring from the corner of his one good eye, so Himeko turns the hologram to let him see what she's doing easier. They don't appear to be false alarms. His internal temperature spikes and then slowly lowers again, high enough that if it lasted it would eventually cause damage.

One option is for her to start rooting through personal data, figuring out what he was doing at the time of each code, and tracing cause and correlation.

Instead, Himeko reads out the timestamps, and asks Boothill if he minds sharing what was happening around him when it occured.

Two weeks ago: He and Dan Heng went to explore Dreamflux Reef and found a bar- nice place, good atmosphere. Woman runnin’ it was a doll. Boothill left fer not even two minutes to get them drinks (Dan Heng knows like nothin’ about liquor, Madam Navigator, can you believe this guy) and when he came back, someone had already stolen his seat and was hittin’ on Dan Heng! Dan Heng didn't even care, just shooed ‘em off. Boothill laughed and said not to let him get in his way if he wanted to meet someone. Dan Heng looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Why would he want to leave with someone else, when he came here to be with Boothill?

Twelve days ago: While laying low- er, just rustlin’ up some grub- in the Moment of Blue, Boothill passed Dan Heng with March and Caelus playin’ on the beach, buildin’ sandcastles and the like. When he passed by again almost two hours later, they were still out there, with Dan Heng pullin’ March through the water on her inner tube and Caelus hangin’ off the back of it. He swam so fast! You'd think he was part water snake or somethin’. He looked happier ‘n a cat in a sunbeam… He has a nice smile, doesn't he?

Eleven days ago: Boothill was killin’ time in Dreamflux Reef when he turned the corner down a shady alley and saw Dan Heng, surrounded by three men demandin’ “protection money.” None of ‘em stood a chance, they were all on the ground before Boothill even blinked! So cool! Boothill wants to see that spear of his closeup- Anyway, Dan Heng stepped on one of ‘em on his way out, hahaha! Boothill stepped on the same guy a second time as he hurried to catch up.

Eight days ago: Here on the Express, actually. Boothill had mentioned bein’ curious about the archives, and Dan Heng personally invited him.

(“I remember that day, I saw you in the hall.” “Was there any problem with the heating that day?” “No, none. I don't think the temperature has anything to do with these error codes. I have a different theory, keep going.” “If ya say so.”)

Boothill was fascinated by an entry on aeons, and from a single question he asked about Lan, the two of ‘em ended up talkin’ fer hours. About aeons and Paths and Emanators, Acheron and Self-Annihilators, the Sea of Nihility, Tiernan, the Nameless and the Galaxy Rangers, their burial relics and their customs. Dan Heng finally just started writin’ and editin’ the entries in real time, with Boothill pointin’ things out and tellin’ him what to add in. They were at it so late that Boothill ended up sleepin' on a couch in one of the cars.

He'd figured there had to be something to make Dan Heng chatty- he'd caught just a glimpse of it that first night they met, sittin’ at the bar in the Reverie together. He'll have to ask about the archives more often, if it gets him all revved up like that.

One week ago: After that night of energetic discussion, Dan Heng was apparently hyped up, because after he'd downed some of Himeko's coffee (“You had some too, right? What did you think of it?” “It was great, even better'n chewin’ bullets!” "Thank you! That was my newest brew, I can't wait for everyone else to try it.") he actually asked Boothill to go hunting with him. Boothill asked who their target was, and was surprised when Dan Heng pulled out photos that looked like they were from March's camera, of all things, instead of a bounty or wanted poster.

And as he sat there, studying these pictures, Dan Heng explained that he wanted to hunt down these specific memory zone memes to record them into the archives. Planets with so much memoria are a rarity, especially with the Stellaron's activity thrown into the mix, which has surely affected the local “wildlife.” He might not get another opportunity like this for a long time. And Boothill had talked last night about his extensive expertise in tracking and hunting, so he should have plenty to offer here, Dan Heng would like to learn from his experience and see how he does things!

And oh, Madam Navigator, by the time Dan Heng was done speakin', his eyes were practically sparklin'! Just lit up like the sun! Boothill could scarcely believe it! The two of them couldn't even wait another day, they set out that very morning. It had been a long, long while since Boothill had tracked someone- er, somethin’- without the intent to capture or kill. It was…actually really nice. Nostalgic, but in a good way. It might even have been his favorite day on Penacony…so…far…

Boothill trails off as a couple of realizations crash into him. All the temperature alarms he's spoken about thus far- they've all happened in the company of Dan Heng. And now that he's thinking about it, he's pretty sure even the ones he hasn't yet talked about were with him, too. Dan Heng has been responsible for all of his error codes, every. single. one.

The screen in front of Himeko suddenly refreshes to the top of the list, displaying a new notification for the current time. Alert! Core temperature above normal range.

Himeko's knowing smile is sly as a snake.

Wwwwwelp, would ya look at the time, Boothill has some errands to meet, people to run, y’know how it is, he should really get goin'-

“Oh, Mr. Boothill? About that favor.” And Boothill jolts to a stop in the doorway because fudge, he can't just leave without hearing her out. He'd given his word. He has no problem running out on someone he thinks deserves it, but Himeko really had been kind to him to try and help him out. Her voice is just as knowing as her smile, Boothill can't turn around to look at her, or else he knows he won't be able to disguise the sound of his cooling fans kicking on.

“Don't make Dan Heng wait too long, ok~?”

“Y-Yes, ma'am.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 6

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Even though he's expecting company, Eddie still jumps and yelps when his front door flies open without so much as a knock, revealing Dustin and Will.

"I know I said to let yourselves in, but a warning knock would have been nice," Eddie shoots them a glare, not bothering to stand from the couch where he'd been pretending to watch whatever terrible daytime movie was playing.

"Sorry," Will apologizes sheepishly while Dustin just laughs.

"Which of your moms dropped you off? If it's Claudia, I'm filing a complaint about how you were raised."

"Har har," Dustin says, swinging his backpack off and knelling down to unzip and dig into it. "We biked here."

"Lucky you, then. The complaint will wait."

Dustin wrestles a blanket from his backpack. Unwrapping it reveals Steve, hair rumpled but otherwise unharmed. "Alright. Delivered safely. We gotta go meet El and Mike now but we'll see you on Saturday, right?"

Eddie sets Steve on the couch, angled towards the TV. "Yeah. I get the feeling if I don't show for the barbeque that Joyce will show up here and drag me there by my ear."

"She would," Will confirms with an easy shrug. The boys turn to leave before Will exclaims, "Oh! Almost forgot!" before digging into his pocket for something, turning around to give it to Eddie.

"What?"

"El and Steve spoke again. He had a lot of things to say. I spent a good portion of the last three days writing down everything as El repeated it to me. This is your letter," he says, having successfully pulled out what looked to be a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Oh," Eddie takes it, and realizes it's not just one folded piece of paper, but three. "Wow."

"Seems you are Steve's second favorite," Dustin grins at him from the doorway.

"You are first, I assume?"

"No. Robin is. She got five pages."

That tracks, actually. Eddie's not surprised Robin got the most pages.

Soon enough, the boys are off and Eddie returns to the couch, pulling his legs up to sit crisscross. "Alright, Stevie, let's see what you have to say."

He unfolds the pages completely and is met with Will's now familiar penmanship scrawled across the sheets of wide rule paper that has clearly been ripped from a composition notebook. He's seen Will's handwriting plenty over this last year, quickly scribbling notes during DnD sessions and on the little item cards Will makes himself to hand out when he DMs.

Will's handwriting isn't always the neatest, but this looks like Will took time, wanted his writing to be legible. Flipping through the papers he sees it is two pages, front and back, of a letter, and the third page is a list of questions in a different, neater handwriting. He gets the feeling that Will probably didn't paraphrase anything. How many people got letters? How much of Will and El's time was devoted to doing just this?

Eddie feels emotional over this, misty-eyed and a lump in his throat, and he hasn't even read the damn letter yet.

"Shit, Stevie, do you even realize how loved you are?" Eddie asks out loud, turning to look at Porcelain Steve like he might answer him this time. Blank hazel eyes stare forward. Eddie shakes his head, to clear away his thoughts, and gets to reading. Not out loud, because he doesn't want Steve to hear how wet his voice will sound.

Eddie,

I guess the first thing I want to say is thank you. I was kind of freaking out when I first woke up like this. It was calming, that day on the lawn, after Robin and Nancy found me. You were so chill and just chatted my ear off like you would have if I were, like, there. I mean, there there and not like, doll-there, if you get what I mean.

Shit, man, being stuck like this would have been a hell of a lot worse without you, I'm certain. Everyone's been great, of course, and, like, no offense meant, Will and El, but you act most normal. Helps me feel, well, I don't know how, exactly. Describing emotions is not something I'm like, good at. Robin's great, too, but she catastrophizes, you know? And since I can't speak back, she can get herself pretty worked up about this and I hate that. Hate that I can't do anything to help her.

Shit. This isn't your issue. Don't include that. No, wait, do. Sorry, El. (It is here, off in the margin, that Will has added 'I wrote everything word for word. Enjoy the asides to El and me.) Hanging out with you helps her, I think. She seems less anxious on days we spend with you. So, I guess, I also want to thank you for that. For being there for Robin when I can't.

Eddie has to pause there because he had no idea. Robin has been a grounding force for him this whole time. He had no idea he was doing the same for her. She never said, or let on... well, that was probably her goal and now Steve's spilled the beans.

This is getting easier to say, even if I still don't know how to feel about the other two people who are going to be privy to everything said, or I guess from your end, written here. (Here, Will has transcribed a conversation they seemed to have had in the middle of writing this up.) Oh. He means us. - El Yes. Don't worry Steve, we'll do our best to forget everything you've said once it's written down. - Will Steve laughed and says thanks. - El I appreciate that but- well, being honest there's some things I want to say but I don't want anyone else to hear. Those conversations are better left face to face, anyway. So, uhh, what else did I want to say?

Oh! Yeah, I told Robin she could drive around the Bimmer, so she can have a car while I'm- so she doesn't have to bike everywhere but knowing her she probably won't take me up on that offer. Maybe you can talk her into it? Or, maybe she'll be willing to drive your van around and you can take the bimmer.

"Jesus, Stevie, can't you just be okay with existing?" Eddie says it under his breath and tenses instantly. For a moment, he forgot that Steve was right there on the couch with him, could hear him. Now he has to explain himself because Steve's already heard, and without the context of how Eddie really means those words, they can sound judgmental. "Shit. Sorry. I just read the part about your car and, dude, you just don't know how to not try and be helpful, huh? I bet it's destroying you on the inside that you can't do anything. But Steve, you gotta know, we don't care about you because you're useful."

Steve, of course, can't reply, so Eddie goes back to the letter.

Uh, what else was there? Oh! Yeah! I don't get migraines here. Or, in this body? Or, whatever it is. I haven't had one since this happened. Also, no hearing issues. Though I find myself wishing to be completely deaf sometimes. I get that Max can listen to Kate Bush for a week straight, but I'd like a little variety. God, what I wouldn't give to listen to the Top 40 again. Don't say anything, Munson. I can already see your judgmental face at my music taste. Unlike you, I have the ability to like multiple types of music. The Top 40 AND that one song from, uhh, shit. Might not have migraines or hearing issues at the moment, but the memory is still as it was. Which means it is shit. That one song by that metal band where their name sounds like it's metal? You know who I mean. (In the margin, Will has just written five little question marks in a row ?????)

"The band you were thinking of, it's Metallica," Eddie says.

Not important. But, uh, the reason for telling you this. I was hoping you might smuggle me to a show the next time your band plays at the Hideout? Last time I tried to go it was too loud and gave me a migraine, you remember, but I think that I could listen to your whole show like this. We might as well take advantage of the perks of this shit situation, right? So, uh, I wouldn't mind if you did that. Or, like, had Robin or someone else bring me. Whichever.

Actually, wait, I lied, I do care which way. I've already had them pen down Robin's letter, so you'll have to pass this on, but I want Robin to take me. So, I can also watch the show, not just listen. That was the part I liked most, when I went last time, before I had to leave. Wait. Scratch that. Ask Argyle. Other than you, he seems like the only person willing to be caught holding me in public, mostly because I don't think he even knows how to be embarrassed. Jesus that was such a weird sentence to say. Holding me in public. Such a weird thing to experience, too.

Uh, anyway, I think that's it for now. Thanks for everything, Eddie.

"I think you're handling this loss of bodily autonomy rather well, Steve. This letter is a lot more positive than the one I would have written if our roles were reversed," Eddie says with a sigh. He can't help but wonder what Steve would have said in this letter if it hadn't had to be filtered through two teenagers first.

He looks to the last page, the list of questions, and is surprised to see that, mixed in with questions about which sports team is winning (he is not going to watch Sportsball for Steve. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it. He will ask Wayne about it later and hate the glee he sees in his uncle's eyes because now he's going to have to pretend to like sports for the unforeseeable future) and for honest updates about their friends are questions about Eddie's campaign that he's rambled on about since Steve can't escape. Steve wants spoilers, wants to know what Eddie has planned.

Steve has actually been listening. He'd been operating on the assumption Steve just tunes him out when he gets going, unable to stop his brain to mouth filter when it comes to talking about Dungeons and Dragons and his current campaign.

"I'm at your list of questions now. I can't answer anything about sports, and don't think I'm unaware of how you asked me and not Lucas. I see what you are doing and I'm not going to fall for it. So, your first non-sportsball question here; How is Dustin doing, really? Well, that's a whole thing but overall, okay."