#it's the same base concept‚ just more detailed and with a longer conversation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

best nest

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: 6.2k

Keigo's never been able to properly indulge his instincts, though you're more than willing to help him change that.

warnings: avian, feral keigo. rut/heat cycles. nesting. wing kink. breeding. horny shit, i tell u what

beta’ed: @keiqos

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wow :’^) this is a collab with the wuv, @keiqos!! we each worked on a fic that was our own take of keigo during his rut, and now y’all get the fun results. here is hers!!! enjoy this feast!!!

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Keigo had been acting particularly weird for the past few weeks.

He was hardly a skittish person, yet he had been avoidant and downright shy in the last month or so. Despite living together, you had hardly seen or heard from him, and when you tried to address his absence, Keigo continually brushed you off.

He was hardly meeting your eyes when you managed to be in the apartment at the same time.

Finally, one night, he came in late. You sat, waiting on the couch, very awake circa three in the morning.

His eyes went wide, knowing he was caught.

“I know it’s late, but can we talk?” You asked softly, patting the couch next to you.

Keigo nodded stiffly, wings folded timidly against his back as he sat. In his big, tough hero uniform, he looked so odd with his hands held so nervously.

“What’s going on, love?” You spoke quietly, lowering the volume of the TV to a hum. “Talk to me.”

Keigo silently picked at the threading of his gloves, then pulled off his visor. He stayed silent, eyes wide and far off.

You sighed, bringing your knees up under your body to face him. You tried to sound strong, but there was a twinge of weakness in your voice, “Are you... seeing other people?”

That notion brought Keigo right back, head snapping up to meet your own before gripping the sides of your face (harder than you would’ve expected) and rapidly shaking his head.

“No, no, no, not at all,” Keigo scooted closer to you as he spoke. “I promise, not that.”

“Then what?” You were frowning, despite Keigo’s contact feeling aloe on a burn.

Once again, Keigo seemed to stumble. His eyes averted, going glassy.

“It’s embarrassing,” His hands slip from your face, back into his lap. “Very embarrassing.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Keigo Takami was many things. But, shy and passive were not in that repertoire.

You deadpanned.

“Please, just tell me,” You huffed at him, crossing your arms. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Kei’. Feels weird.”

“I know, it’s just— fuck.” His gloved hands dragged down his face, flushing a bright red.

You figured he was a bit warm.

Carefully, you reached forward, going to pull them from his hands. He stiffened harshly, watching you with... slitted eyes— (had they always been like that?). You gingerly freed Keigo’s fingers and palms, intertwining your own.

“You can tell me, Keigo,” You smiled at him, squeezing and feeling pricks of pain in the flesh of your own hands.

You noticed then, that Keigo’s fingernails were longer, pointed even. Though, they didn’t look manicured. They seemed to grow darker at the cuticle.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at Keigo as he turned his head away, half hiding his face in the fluffy collar of his jacket.

“You know how I go on a ‘business trip’ about this time every year?” Keigo asked, rubbing a clawed thumb over the back of your hands.

You nodded, “You go on lots of business trips, Kei’. What’s different about this spring one?”

Keigo shifted his legs, wings twitching at his back. His entire form emanated his uncomfortable energy. From the tension rolling off his shoulders to the way he clenched and unclenched his jaw, Keigo was visibly very anxious.

“Okay, uh, how do I explain this—” Keigo dropped his head, then looked back up at you, blinking slitted pupils at you. “You know how I’ve got wings?”

“Duh, dummy,” You rolled your eyes, reaching out to brush some fingers over one of the large, external feathers.

Oh, but you got a reaction you weren’t expecting. You hadn’t thought anything of your action, yet Keigo audibly moaned with the contact. Something loud, high, and sinful as his thighs clenched together.

Both of your eyes went wide.

“So,” You began slowly, “You have wings.”

“I have wings,” Keigo’s voice sounded tense and held in his throat, shaking just a bit. “And, I have some other avian traits as well.”

“Like...?” You coaxed. Whatever it was must’ve really made Keigo uncomfortable if he was being this resistant to talking about it. This man was the number two hero, yet he was mincing about like a kitten.

“Uhhh... They’re more behavioral. Some physical,” Keigo bit his lip, shaking his head. “What do birds do in the spring?”

“Is this a riddle?”

“No, straightforward question.”

You really thought he was pulling your leg, but based on Keigo’s words and grave expression, he was dead serious.

And you had a dead serious answer.

“Oh my god, Keigo, you migrate?!” Your mouth fell open. Keigo’s eyes went wide and he seemed to stifle a laugh before shaking his head, feathers ruffling.

“No, oh my God, no,” Keigo carried some mirth in his gaze now. “Not at all.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing with him. The tension seemed to be somewhat out of his shoulders until you set a hand on his knee and squeezed.

“Keigo, out with it,” You rolled your eyes. “I know it’s scary, but I promise, no matter what it is, I’m here for you okay?”

You let your eyes soften as you sighed, squeezing his hands.

Keigo looked you dead in the face, “We fuck, (Y/N).”

You choked on your own spit, before leaning back with a small laugh, “I know it’s been a minute with your schedule, but we do indeed do that outside of spring.”

“No, no, not like that,” Keigo ran his hands down his face, shaking his head. “I’ve been avoiding you because this whole conversation is going to be weird and embarrassing. You up for it? Because it only gets weirder.”

“Lay it on me, tailfeathers,” You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles.

Keigo took a hand to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, “One of my more... avian traits is this... I don’t know, the Commission called it a ‘rut’, but I’ve done my own research and I’m not sure if that fully encompasses all of what it is.”

You weren’t entirely unfamiliar with the concept, but you certainly weren’t an expert.

“What happens during it?”

“Uh, to be frank, exactly what happens during a bird’s mating season, and then some.” Keigo’s long nails dug into the fabric of his cargo pants. “My feathers grow in a bit differently. I nest. I get weird and territorial, possessive. I cannot tell you how much I’ve wanted to leave your neck covered in bite marks, just fucking claiming you—”

You both swallowed.

“And... You’re insatiably horny on top of all of this?” You asked, trying to ignore the way your insides were heating up.

Keigo nodded, waiting for you to reply with a softened, gooey gaze.

Oh, this was a little weird, right? Keigo was avian in some ways, but you never thought he had a whole ass mating season-

“Wait, so, in the spring, the ‘business trips’,” You used air quotes with a frown. “You’ve been just disappearing for your ‘rut’ and then coming back? Alone?”

Keigo waved his hands between the two of you, feathers fluffing up defensively behind him, “No, n-no, not like that. Never once. I’d just hole up in my apartment and fuck my hand like it was God.”

You choked.

It made sense, you and Keigo moved in together at the end of last spring. Looking back, the timing now seemed to be intentional.

“When did it start?” You asked, getting semi-intrigued by Keigo’s odd biology.

“I was sixteen, I think,” Keigo did the mental math and bit his lip. “The Commission didn’t really know what to do with me, so they would just lock me up in my room with two extra blankets and call it good.”

You choked again.

“So, you just disappear, deal with it, then come back?” You frown. “Keigo, I would’ve helped if I would’ve known.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N), it’s a lot to ask,” Keigo’s nails bit into his wrists as he squeezed. “I’m basically a horny, possessive, feral birdman for two weeks, not too mention the time leading up to it. That’s why I’ve been all distance. I’m sorry, I should’ve at least told you.”

“I would have appreciated it if you had, but I understand,” You grabbed Keigo’s hand again and squeezed. “This doesn’t exactly sound like a thing you’ve really ever been able to deal with comfortably, huh?”

“N-not really,” Keigo got all sheepish again, scooting a bit closer to you. “I haven’t really known what to do about it this year, so I’ve just been putting off facing you. I was just gonna get a hotel room or something, run off for two weeks, and then come back.”

“Another ‘business trip’?” You raised an eyebrow as Keigo looked down, all sheepish and blushy. You tutted, shaking your head. “Well, babe, not this time. I’ve got you. I’m your live-in partner and I will not let my sweet, bird boy handle horny hours alone. I haven’t made you before, right?”

That made Keigo laugh, softly, some of the stress being held still in his wings falling away.

“I appreciate that, angel, but I don’t want you to agree to do this until you fully understand it,” He beamed you a smile. God, the man was like sunshine and candy when he chose to be.

You nodded, giving him a(n) (over)confident smile, “Lay it on me, babe.”

Keigo had amassed quite a detailed understanding of his biological clock over the years, and he was able to spit it all back onto you.

“It’s basically two weeks of time where my only thoughts are ‘nest’, ’fuck’,’protect’, ’breed’—” Keigo cut himself off when your eyes went wide.

“Wait, like, have children?” You asked, gut feeling unsettled.

You and Keigo had been dating for a while, but the topic of children had never been seriously brought up.

Does helping him mean to commit to having kids?

“No, not exactly. Like, I’m trying to protect a mate and breed, but that doesn’t mean the outcome needs to be children. At all,” Keigo assured you, patting your knee. “I know, it’s weird. I definitely am not into getting you pregnant, but that instinct part of my brain is.”

“Well, I’m on birth control, so we should be good there, right?” You laughed, relieved, squeezing his hand. “What do you mean by nesting?”

“A literal nest. A spot that just smells like me and you to keep—” Keigo clicked his tongue, sighing in what seemed like relaxation, “you safe. And mine. It usually ends up being just like... my entire apartment, lots of shredded pillows, feathers, blankets. It’s honestly a nightmare.”

A nightmare, yes, but a very necessary one.

So, a plan was made.

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Keigo sent you off to a hotel for the days leading up to his rut. He had to prepare, get things ready and he wanted to be careful not to trigger it earlier and risk ruining what would more than likely be his first proper rut.

You took his lead, pampering yourself for a few days and letting Keigo handle the details.

(Considering how wrecked your body was going to be in the coming weeks, it was more than smart to give yourself some time to rest.)

When Keigo called you to tell you he was ready, he was sounded elated, wings audibly flapping into the receiver.

When you arrived back at the apartment, the ride up the glass elevator was daunting.

You were perfectly happy to help with Keigo’s rut, but you were a bit nervous about what he was going to be like. Though he reminded you that one of his hormonal brain’s functions was to ‘keep you safe’, it also sounded like he was going to be a bit out of his mind. You trusted him with your life, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nerve-wracking.

The elevator dinged, sliding open to the top floor.

Keigo stood just outside.

You couldn’t help jumping back in surprise, taking in Keigo’s... state.

He looked positively feral, just on sight. Though had been warned of this, you hadn’t fully expected how visible his state would be.

Keigo apparently decided to forgo any sort of a top today as his chest was entirely bare to you. A pair of grey sweats was slung low on his hips, likely put on in a rush based on the uneven settling of the waistband. This was not even to mention the very obvious imprint of his dick against the fabric, hard just from seeing you. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, skin pink with rushing blood.

“Angel,” Keigo purred, yanking you from the elevator and crushing you into his chest, smothering you with kisses. Stray feathers flew to pick up your bags, carting them off to your nearby apartment.

Speaking of wings—

In the few days it had been since you’d seen Keigo, his feathers had almost entirely changed. They were still their usual bright crimson, but the filaments of the plumage seemed to be almost... shiny? You couldn’t quite place it, but there had been some sort of change in their anatomy that made his wings appear iridescent when they moved. The patterns almost seemed to swirl and streak through the plumage. You wanted nothing more than to admire them.

Without thinking (or responding to Keigo, mistake), you reached out to grab one of the feathers, “Oh wow, Keigo, they’re so pretty.”

The moment you wrapped your hand fully around the plume, Keigo clawed his... talons (?!) into your shoulders, shuddered, and screamed.

You hissed as pain radiated from your shoulders, but managed to hold both you and Keigo upright as he twitched against you.

“Fuck,” He cursed against your neck, panting.

You felt a vague, wet spot on your leg.

You blanched.

“Did... you just cum? From me touching your wings?”

Keigo nodded against, still shaking.

“S-sorry...”

The shame in his tone made your frown, pulling away from him to press a harsh kiss against his half-parted lips.

“Nope,” You murmured against his lips. “Nu-uh, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m here to help, dummy.”

He sighed in relief, pressing into you.

It was going to be an interesting two weeks.

...

The apartment was a nightmare. Keigo really hadn’t been lying when he told about how extreme nesting was.

Notably, nothing was dirty. Keigo was actually an immaculately clean person due to his time with the Commission, but he was disorganized. And the nest of an apartment was testament to that.

There were stray feathers everywhere. Stuck in cupboards, tucked behind the TV, wedged in pillowcases and blankets, even a few under the bathroom sink. Newly purchased blankets and pillows were strewn over every surface. It appeared like you could simply fall in any area of the house and be entirely cushioned. Not to mention that Keigo’s feathers could sense every single motion in the house.

It was a sweet gesture and testament to the protective element of the rut that Keigo described.

In addition to the many layers of softness, a new, far larger mattress had even been dragged to the living room and placed on top of a high frame set against the wall of windows that overlooked the city. It was heaped with pillows, fluffy blankets, and downy-looking, glimmering feathers. All of, despite its inherent chaos, was the comfiest looking corner of the apartment.

“Oh, wow, ‘Kei,” You breathed, running a hand along a soft-looking blanket over the back of a chair. “You did such a good job!”

With that, he was pressed against you from behind.

“I... I did? You like it?” Keigo never asked for validation so openly. The implication of his inherent fear around his rut continued to make your heart ache. From what he had told you (and what you read in the days prior about avian behavior), you needed to ‘accept’ the nest he made for the two of you.

I’ll make this good for him.

“Yes, so much.” You leaned back against his chest, loving the way the heat of his bare chest seeped so well through your clothes, “I can’t wait to snuggle up with you in it and so much more.”

Your last word was more than enough to get Keigo chirping into your ear.

Yes, bird-ishly chirping.

It was a mix of high and low clicks, maybe a bit of cooing thrown in as well. As far as his avian adaptations went, this one was newer to you, but remarkably cute. You turned around, pressing a kiss to his neck without thinking.

The contact made Keigo’s aforementioned talons dig into the meat of your hips, a hot breath rolling over your ear, “Please let me fuck you.”

It was abrupt, his shift in tone, but based on the way his cock was nearly burning your backside, it was a necessary step.

“Well, I certainly won’t stop you,” You didn’t realize the unintended weight of your words, but Keigo sure as fuck did.

He roughly grabbed your wrist, dragging you across the room to the mattress in the corner.

“W-wait, not the bedroom?” You asked. Keigo pressed at your shoulders, pushing you down roughly, though the softness of the bed dressings insulated your fall.

“Nope, here, best spot,” Keigo’s words were clipped as he straddled your waist, silencing any other words you might have with a soul-sucking kiss. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth, licking at your gums and receding to suck at your tongue. All the while, you could hear and feel his feathers shudder.

He pulled away, eyes half-lidded and vertical pupils blown wide.

“You have no fucking idea how much I missed you.” Keigo’s teeth nipped at your pulse point.

Were... his teeth sharper?

You craned your neck away from him, pulling a nasty growl from his chest. You watched his feathers, both the one’s still fixed to his back and flared upwards and those scattered around, shudder and writhe.

Keigo’s canines were longer, maybe even a little sharper.

This rut thing... it was an avian thing, right?

Birds... don’t have sharp teeth... Do they?

You dismissed it, much more focused on Keigo’s hand as it slipped lower, futzing with the waistband of your pants.

“Sorry, dove, I’m a little impatient,” His voice was rough and strained, like he was holding back.

His normally nimble hands struggled with the button of your fly, and with a nasty growl, he snatched up one of his nearby feathers, hardening it in an instant, and slicing your pants off.

“Keigo!” You shrieked, squirming, and sitting up as he tore off the ruined garment. “I liked those! That wasn’t nice.”

“I think I’m done being nice to you for a bit, dove.” He shot you a dark look.

You blinked at him.

Keigo had warned you that he would be a bit feral... but you weren’t expecting his nasty attitude.

You also weren’t expecting to be turned on by the rage-filled spikes in his words.

“Get on your hands and knees.” Keigo’s voice was clipped as he slipped off his sweats.

Holy.

Fuck.

Keigo’s cock was nothing to fucking sneeze at. It was pretty, long, with nice girth and a perfect curve for your pussy. He tended to keep his body hair well kept and groomed, an old remnant of the militancy of his youth.

Oh, but ‘fuck you until you’re pregnant’ Keigo?

His dick was a bit bigger, engorged with what had to be painful blood flow. Heavy balls hung below, ripe and flushed, in desperate need of contact, let alone release. Maybe it was the ambiance (or, the smell and pheromones unknowingly being inhaled into your endocrine system), but his dick looked immaculate.

“Is your dick bigger, babe?” You asked, half-drooling in your mind at your lover’s cock. It certainly wasn’t hard to.

Keigo normally would’ve clawed at the opportunity to schmooze you for stroking his ego so directly, but your current version of Keigo was far less into flattery.

“I said, get on your hands and knees.” He didn’t wait for you to reply, just flipped you onto your stomach, straddling your upper thighs. You yelped at the shock of sheets hitting your front, fabric tearing behind you as Keigo made quick work of your shirt.

You gulped as Keigo’s hands, talons, raked their way down your bare back as he let loose a loud, quaking sigh, “Oh, Angel, holy fuck.”

He said the pet name like it was a prayer to God and you let him.

You shivered under him as his nails drew lines up your neck, all the way into your scalp. Without warning, he pressed the heel of his hand into the curve of your skull, shoving you deeper into the plushness of the nest below you.

Oh... Fuck. Were you about to sloppy fuck in the sheets you’d be spending the next several weeks in?

(Yes.)

The somewhat gross revelation was quickly forgotten as Keigo’s hot breath shuddered against your ear, his (oh my fucking god slightly pointed?) tongue curled along the soft skin of your pulse point.

You both choked down a moan as his exposed cock rubbed against your backside.

“You’re so pretty like this,” For being feral, and for the blood that was quickly rushing to your head and sex, Keigo sounded very nice. “Gonna look so cute with my cock inside you, right?”

You nodded into the sheets, struggling to raise yourself up on your elbows as Keigo hauled your hips up.

Stabilizing yourself on the softness of the sheets and feathers was much more difficult than one would think. You were already slipping, no matter how you tried to hold yourself up.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I want to fill you up, right now,” His voice takes on a dreamy lilt as he shoves you back, further into the nest. You crawl on your hands and knees, succumbing to Keigo’s hand on your neck after arriving to the middle of the massive mattress. “But, I also really don’t wanna hurt my angel. Gotta make sure you’re good and ready.”

The sentiment was nice enough, but you stiffened, remembering that Keigo’s nails were not only sharpened, but slightly hooked. You tried to turn, but quickly stop when you felt Keigo’s hot, hot breath over your sex.

You shuddered, biting your lip as his pointed tongue ran up and down your slit. From his hold on the meat of your thighs, you could tell he was trembling and burning. Whether it was from how much he needed you or how much he was holding himself back, you couldn’t be sure.

Keigo’s pointed tongue ran up between the lips of your cunt, both of you moaning at the sensation. You felt his wings raise behind the two of you, casting shadows down on your display in some weird show of dominance.

It made your skin run hot.

What made it run even hotter was the jolt you received Keigo pressed his face into your cunt with absolute zero shame.

His tongue slicked up the lips of your pussy, dipping around your opening with absolutely sinful sounds falling around the two of you.

When you tried to adjust your arms, you caught a quick slap to your ass, pain only pushing your eyes to roll back in your head as Keigo sneered against you.

“Greedy.” It was a rich line, coming from him, king of gluttony, but you weren’t about to argue with him.

His nails dug into your thighs, dragging your cunt and his face together to the point where it felt like there was no space between them. You were helpless to do much other than grind back on his tongue as he tongue-fucked your cunt.

Keigo drew away, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you. Your back hit the nest, eyes spinning as you weren’t so used to him outright manhandling you. You sucked in a breath as you stared up at Keigo, his face slick with your juices and enlarged wings spread out and upwards.

The slits of his eyes were blown wide, a toothy smile beaming down at you. It seemed sort of sweet before two of his clawed-fingers (thankfully, somewhat gingerly) spread the lips of your cunt. He spat onto your exposed clit, no reverie in his actions as his avian glare slipped over you.

A harsh clicking came from the back of his throat, feathers fluttering.

“B-Babe? Are you okay?” You asked as Keigo refused to look away from your splayed-out body.

“More than okay,” He shuddered, looking a bit more grounded for a moment. He swallowed, shaking his head.

Surprisingly, he reached out to cup the side of your face, rubbing a thumb over your cheek, “If you want me to stop, can you tell me now?”

“I don’t want to, Kei’,” You laid your words on thickly, knowing you had his lucidity. “Can you please fuck me? Fill me up, Kei’.”

He growled, something from deep in his chest, nodding, feathers shimmering in the light of the room.

He was on you instantly, wings flapping to shove his body into yours, lips on yours and tongue pressing into your mouth. The tapered appendage licks and literally fucks your mouth, robbing you of air as you weave your hands into his sweaty tresses and pull.

The pain spurred him on, one of his hands sloppily going between the two of you to line his fat cock with your cunt. He was considerate enough to rub circles on your clit as he rammed into your insides in one single motion.

Your eyes went wide, snapping open and you tug the bite of your nails into the back of Keigo’s head, held by the burning stretch and pleasant ache of your insides.

Keigo had been fairly quiet during this entire ordeal, an odd thing considering he normally ran his mouth dry with praises, filth, and sweet nothings when he was half this close to your cunt. Yet, he’d hardly spoken through most of it, and most of your reading of him had been based on body (and wing language).

But, when he did finally bottom out, shaking and straining, it clicked.

Based on the sweat that was rolling down his temples, the veins bulging in his forearms, and the rigid tension in his shoulders, he was holding his rut-crazed body back.

You frowned, trying to ignore the kiss of his cock head against your cervix.

Recalling some of the things Keigo told you about some of his more animalistic desires, you decided to egg him on to breaking. Based on the rapid twitching of his wings, he needed it.

Keigo just barely moved, biting his lip and harshly exhaling.

“Baby,” Your own voice broke as you spoke, falling back into his mutant desires as well. “Please, please, fuck me how you need. Please.”

“S’fine, this is enough,” Keigo gritted out as he dragged his cock almost entirely out of your dripping cunt.

To emphasize your need, you grabbed a fistful of his feathers at the base of his wings and tugged, making sure to press your nails to the bone.

Keigo threw his head back, moaning high into the air, a coo mixing with the sound as his wings shuddered in your grip.

You buckled down.

“No,” You whined, hooking your legs behind the small of his back, thumbing at the plumage as he writhed from your touch. “Fuck me, like you mean it, Keigo. Fill me up.”

He paused, freezing, eyes darting up to your own.

“S-say that again.”

You grinned, dragging his stiff neck down to your mouth, dragging your tongue to his ear, “I said I want you to fill me up. Stuff me full of your cum and breed me so good, please, Kei’.”

You’d never spoken like that to him during sex, and you quickly understood why.

The moment the words left your lips, Keigo slammed his hips back into you, wings fanning out as wide as they could.

His lips found your neck, cock rearranging your insides with the immediate force and pace of his thrusts. His hands grappled at your hips, your tits, your shoulders, and your legs, anything to get to ram himself into you. Each thrust was punctuated by growls and clicks from the back of his throat, filthy words finally fell from his lips without a trace of shame.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna breed you so good,” Keigo’s voice was breathy as he raked his nails down your neck, light lines following as he bottomed out in you once more. He roughly grabbed one of your tits, pinching your pebbled nipple. “Gonna make you gush for me, yeah, I am.”

You could’ve given an equally horny response, but Keigo’s tongue was quickly in your throat, groaning into your mouth as his pace picked up to something inhumane.

It was short-lived, the wet slapping of his heavy balls stalling as he damn near screamed into your mouth, coming deep in your throbbing cunt.

You shuddered, feeling his load already dripping from your cunt onto the sticky sheets below you.

Keigo’s lips parted from yours, half-lidded eyes looking glazed and dreamy.

You thought that nutting twice so closely together would slow him down, but you were remarkably wrong.

You rolled your hips up, smiling, “Feeling okay, Kei’?”

Keigo blinked down at you, lowering his head to nose at your jaw. You tilted your head for him, spine curling when you felt him begin to move again, still fully hard.

“I’m not done yet.” His words were curt and sharp as his arms caged around your head. The sharp peaks of his canines caught on the skin of your neck, dragging and sucking. “Gotta make sure you’re fucked nice and good with my brood, dove. So good.”

You swallowed, eyes rolling back when Keigo bit down at the base of your neck.

Keigo’s hips slammed back into yours, his pace picking up and the squelching of your slick and his cum ringing around the room. You could hardly focus on it, or anything as he quickly threw your legs over his shoulders, moving his licks and bites to your calves and thighs.

Your clit throbbed with each thrust, wet and craving contact. When you reached down to play with yourself, Keigo swatted your hand away with a growl, a red feather from the bed replacing it. The small, soft crimson feathers lapped at your clit, making quick circles as it became wet with slick.

With the hold on your legs, he hauled you upwards, your lower half lifted off the bed and held by only Keigo’s grip and the curve of your spine. You keened with each of his thrusts, listening to the wild words that spilled from his lips while he rammed your cunt raw.

They were mostly incoherent, half-sentences about how he was going to ‘breed you until he’s shooting blanks’, ‘fuck you full with his brood’ and ‘reem you until you grew feathers’. Each phrase got your breath going fast, his grip and pace forcing your lungs to fill faster and faster.

The feather against your cunt grew sloppier, nearly vibrating with its jerky movement. A well-timed swat to your clit by Keigo’s own hand while he talked about your ‘life-giving pussy’ was what sent you over the edge, cunt tightening around his cock.

His words reached peak incoherency as he rammed into your cervix, spilling into you with a harsh wail, wings stretching upwards and bumping against the ceiling.

You expected a moment of reprieve, but before you could even think, still spinning with your own orgasm, Keigo flipped you onto your tummy once more.

Despite signing up for this sort of treatment, your insides already ached. The friction of Keigo’s fat cock had stretched you perfectly, all for him, but the deep ache in your core was getting a bit distracting. This was not even mentioning how sore your muscles were getting, pulling from the pacing and positioning Keigo chose at whim.

You didn’t voice your pains, buckling down on your psyche (or, what you had left of it), as Keigo slid into you once more.

“Oh baby,” His voice was slippery as he wound his hands through your hair, pulling and forcing your back into a severe arch. “You feel that?”

He fucked into you harshly, the squelch that followed serving as a reminder of how he’d already more than filled you up.

“So pretty and round with my seed...” Keigo’s words got dreamy and slow, just for a moment as he smoothed his hand over your hips, “Just need to make sure it takes...”

The feather from earlier was back on you as he started up once more, babbling and flapping his massive wings as he fucked you numb.

You came as he did the next time, your legs giving way under the pressure and sensation. Keigo was quick to tsk, two more of his feathers moving to hold you up as he started to move again, cock never leaving your spent cunt.

The parts of your brain that were still working and not reduced to a pile of mush wondered how the fuck he was still hard, but all things considered, it shouldn’t have been surprising. Besides, he deserved to satiate himself properly, fucking your gushing cunt, considering he’d never gotten to indulge in his instincts like this before.

Despite how you burned all over, you let him finish inside you yet again.

And again.

And again?

You lost count at some point.

Keigo apparently really liked you face-down, ass-up, and kept you like that as he fucked you full over and over again. After having his taloned-hand stuck into your hair holding you to the duvet and pillows for so long, your head was spinning. What made all of this all the more overwhelming was the small feather that never fucking stopped moving—

“Kei’, please!” You screamed, voice hoarse and dry. You’re spinning, aching, and yet you still want more.

Keigo’s pace increases, using his wings to rut against your cervix over and over.

The tempo of the feather increased, Keigo’s growls falling away into his own shriek as he pushed forwards once more, hot cum spraying your walls all over again.

The sensations, all of them, pushed you over the edge, a shriek tearing from your throat as hot tears soaked the nest below. Your orgasm curled your toes to the point of pulling muscles, back bowing and straining as broiling pleasure swallowed you once more.

Keigo might’ve kept fucking you after that, you couldn’t really remember. With the plumes of feathers under your knees, he could’ve and you wouldn’t have known.

Your body and mind were spent, trying to keep up with his appetite. Your eyes rolled back behind your eyelids, and lucidity was gone to you.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

You awoke to soft cooing sounds and the smell of sweat.

It was jarring, shifting the slightest bit and feeling aches and pains you didn’t even know you could have.

The cooing stuttered, falling into a chuckle.

Oh.

Keigo.

His rut.

Oh.

“Oh my god, Kei’, did you fuck me unconscious?” It came out almost as a growl, voice cracking and low.

A hand carded through your hair as you opened your eyes, taking in the state of yourself, Keigo, and the nest.

You were both sweaty, sticky and smelling all sorts of musky. It was intoxicating, lulling you. It must’ve been those pheromones that Keigo had mentioned way back when.

Keigo had nestled you to his chest, wings spread behind him and shimmering. The windows outside showed only the neon of the city below, night having long since fallen.

He beamed down at you with a clear fondness, a lot of the tension gone from his body, and looking significantly less stressed. But, there was a sad quirk in his brow.

“Sorry about that, angel, I got kind of out of hand there,” Keigo replied sheepishly, smile turning a little sad.

You frowned.

You couldn’t have him thinking that.

“Nope, no, not at all,” You pushed yourself on an elbow, wincing at the pain, but recovering to peppering his stubbly chin and cheeks with kisses. “None of that, silly. I am happy to help, whatever that entails. I love you, you know?”

Keigo relaxed even more, falling against the nest and pulling you to his chest, “You gotta stop being so sweet, dove. Gonna get me riled up again.”

You hummed, kissing the tip of his nose, “That’s more than fine, just rub my shoulders a bit first. I think I pulled something.”

He kissed at your sweaty hair, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “I’m more than happy too, dove. Thank you.”

His hands met your shoulders, rubbing at the sore muscles, careful to avoid pressing his talons into the skin.

You heard him say so softly, more to himself than to you, “I’m gonna keep you so safe.”

The grin that came across your face rivaled the sun in its brightness and honey with its sweetness. You melted into his touch, dissolving blissfully into the smells and feel of your nest.

Keigo left kiss after kiss against soreness, cooing and clicking as his rut-based needs were more than met.

For once.

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x y/n #feral hawks #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha x reader #hawks smut #hawks #takami keigo #keigo x y/n #reader x hawks #you x hawks #dont call me a furry for this one but damn im tredding the line #bnha smut

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Text

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed!

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best.

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him.

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't.

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh.

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals.

"you should bring one of your other friends."

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world.

"I thought that was just me." he says.

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?"

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep.

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up.

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't.

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other.

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open.

"yeah?"

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift.

"I could hear your breathing change."

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds.

"I wanted to say goodnight."

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound.

"now I can't because you made it weird."

"how did I make it weird?"

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?"

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated.

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours.

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do.

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship.

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing.

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs.

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate.

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge.

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart.

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it.

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over.

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again.

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing.

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest.

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things.

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath.

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars.

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most.

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle.

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out.

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull.

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate.

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head.

he definitely has a concussion.

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway.

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun."

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold.

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor.

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious.

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know.

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank.

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key.

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could.

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called.

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed.

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.

"hi."

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here.

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me."

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second.

"Y/N, I'm really fine."

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed.

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully.

"sounds like a nightmare."

"it is." he cracks up.

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?"

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too."

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm.

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter.

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her."

"oof." you wince.

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did.

"yeah." he avoids your gaze.

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard.

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares.

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder.

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret.

"you already said that."

"shut up."

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks.

"whatever. you care about me, too."

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you."

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums.

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas.

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud.

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you.

"were you thinking about anything in particular?"

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care.

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you."

"like?" now you're intrigued.

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down.

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?"

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um."

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be.

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you."

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal.

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed.

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you."

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more.

your heart swells.

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder.

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way.

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look.

"I'm in love with you, too."

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod.

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable.

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it.

"I'd say so, yeah."

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9.

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly.

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead.

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before.

never like this.

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his.

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact.

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans.

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in.

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection.

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you."

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer."

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you.

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other.

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast.

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material.

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god."

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too.

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now.

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow.

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..."

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth.

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans.

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down.

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully.

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like."

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop."

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines.

"mhmm."

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something."

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers.

"I'm a virgin." you say.

Spencer frowns. "really?"

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful."

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry.

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence.

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?"

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency.

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts.

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands.

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face.

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you.

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back.

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting.

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly.

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop."

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort.

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock.

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it.

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin.

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect."

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum."

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too."

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement.

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan.

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high.

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions.

you collapse fully, him still inside.

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it.

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out.

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird.

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy.

"we should try multiple times."

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?"

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?"

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate.

"yeah."

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #baby spence #mgg #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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funkymbtifiction · 2 years ago

Note

I keep reading previous posts about introversion (and their respective functions) there is something that you wrote that I don't understand. Here is the thing, extroverted functions need stimulus from the outside world, and introverted functions operate on the inside. You answered to an ENFP who was confused about being an INFP, that some stereotypical introvert activities (or at least that's what I understood) like reading a lot for example, were still an external stimulus, and that basically a real dom-(introverted function) would spend hours simply inside their heads. Meaning that they wouldn't need an outside thing to be entertained/engaged. So, spending a lot of time reading alone was not a sign of being a Introvert. Is that all that they do? Just thinking? How dominant introverted functions reflect on a day to day basis?

I'm sorry if it's doesn't make sense or is a long ask. But I really have trouble understanding your definition of introversion 😅

Thank you.

No. That's not what I meant. Most of the INFPs I know doing nothing BUT read for 8 hours at a stretch, whereas ENFPs need people and conversation and engagement and so they put down their book and rush out to talk about things or start working on a project.

Introversion in Jung means that you filter the outside world through yourself first -- through a dominant inward-focused filter and that changes it, because how you take it in becomes subjective. Thus, introverts all have a personal "takeaway" on information. Extroverts have no such filter and are taking in and reacting to the outside world in "real time" -- objectively absorbing information from the world. Their takeaway is less subjective and more objective (this is actually what happened from an ethical/factual/big-picture/solid pov).

In other words, if an INFP and an ENFP witness the same event or are part of the same situation, the INFP filters it all through "how it makes me feel" and the ENFP sees it through a lens of "this is the bigger picture of what's going on here." The INFP gets hung up on their personal reaction to the situation; the ENFP sees the larger context of the event and its potential.

It's less about what you 'do' in your spare time, and more about whether you instantly judge things by processing them through your feelings, or if you do not instantly judge things, simply by absorbing them. That's how you tell the two apart. The INFP has an immediate judgment based on how something makes them feel (I hate it/I love it/I don't care), and the ENFP often does not reach a judgment soon enough (their emotions are secondary to "this is happening... and now the situation is changing! this is interesting, let me go along with it and see what happens...").

If you read my book, it makes things even clearer in terms of instant filtering and in how INFPs and ENFPs spend their time (for example, the INFP treasures what they love and keeps it secret a lot longer than the ENFP, who immediately wants to start talking about it).

NFPs all have the same sorts of hobbies (reading, absorbing stories, writing, crafting) but a Ne-dom often gets their best ideas by bouncing off someone else's work (external stimulation triggering a multitude of new concepts/perspectives) whereas an INFP can often conjure up ideas from inside themselves based on what they like. An INFP could spend all day laying on their bed, thinking about the story they are going to write and how it's going to reflect their values; an ENFP might not grasp the details of a story until they start working on it and then it all unfolds in front of them as they do it.

#question #mbti #enfp #infp #infp x enfp #enfp x infp

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slashbitch2 · 4 years ago

Text

Wavelength

slight nsfw warning ;)

Eve had always felt that she stood out from those around her. That in every situation, in every group and at every point in her life, she was walking round on an entirely different wavelength. Although, living this way wasn't as direly lonely as it sounded, rather she learnt to appreciate the few and far apart moments with company. When someone would, for just a split second, understand her.

The first person to ever make her feel this way, and regrettably the only for a very long time, was Ted. He'd swept her off her feet and into a less isolated world, a concept so unfamiliar at the time that she'd allowed herself be dragged out to sea. Then there was Brandon, who she was told would change her whole world. And he did, for a while.

Brandon was her life preserver until his priorities changed; until Mother's day cards became Valentines day cards, movie nights were exchanged for house parties and homework for alcohol. But Eve wasn't the kind of mom to act as though this behaviour was unwarranted and abhorrent, so she let him wedge the door shut and clear his search history. She could cope with a little more distance.

Then along came Ted's affair, their crumbling marriage and eventual divorce. Before she knew it, she was drowning.

The all too familiar feeling of solitude reappeared, completely devastating for her when Brandon left for college. However, this time she swore that she wouldn't let it overwhelm her, and did everything possible to prevent herself from sinking. Which initially started with a class at a community college, and ended with her lying in the arms of both her colleague Amanda, and classmate Julian. And yet, after they'd hurriedly packed up their things and left, she felt no better.

Brandon was sitting on the porch when she found him later. His back was turned to her, but the hunched up posture and awkward shuffling said more than enough. In that moment, Eve reverted back to her old way of thinking. She came to the conclusion that she'd failed as a mother, that her mistake was unforgivable despite the years of morose behaviour and selfish demeanour Brandon had subjected her to.

For retribution, she removed Julian's number from her contacts, predicting that he wouldn't be able cope with remaining friends. He too immature, still in that irrational sulky stage of adolescence. Next, she specified to Amanda that what happened was a one time thing, though she was already way ahead of Eve, chatting casually like nothing had taken place that weekend. Her easy-going reaction was a nice break from the prevailing tension with Brandon, which she then mentioned to her friend.

She tried to casually bring the subject up in the same manner that she imagined Amanda would if the roles were reversed, acting like the issue was nothing to do with her.

"As much as I hate to use such an outdated phrase," Her friend said. "boys will be boys. "

Eve chuckled, though the general concern weighing down on her shoulders meant it came out as more of a scoff. "You can say that again."

There's a brief lull in conversation as Eve disinterestedly taps away at her phone while Amanda sips thoughtfully at her coffee. The silence is only invoked by an awareness of social standards, since there's much Eve wants to talk to her friend about, but feels would be inappropriate in public.

Eventually, Amanda's the one to break the silence. "Are you still looking for someone to fill in for Sarah?"

Eve's attention flickered back to the woman sitting opposite. "I am." She replied hesitantly, knowing that she ought to have posted the job advertisement weeks ago, but had forgotten.

"I know someone who'd be good." Amanda was sliding her phone across the table before Eve got the chance to respond.

The screen displayed what she could only assume was a job application, though the font was too small to actually read. Squinting, she picked up the device to try and glean some information about the potential applicant.

Amanda continued as Eve scrolled. "She hasn't worked with seniors before, but has managerial experience."

"Are you sure she'd want this job?" Eve asked apprehensively as she set the phone down. "Seems a little over-qualified to me."

"Yeah, she's serious about it." Amanda's expression grew more determined. "Y/N just moved here. Mentioned she was looking for a more lowkey kind of job."

Eve remained doubtful.

"She's travelled a lot. Had a lot of different jobs." Amanda took another sip of her drink. "But she said she wants to settle down somewhere. Get a job that'll take her to retirement- which was an exaggeration, but you get the gist."

"Well." Eve sighed. "You can't get much closer to retirement than working at a nursing home."

"Exactly. So can I pass on her contact details then?"

"Sure." She shrugged. Assuming that her friend's recommendation was genuinely helpful, then she would be saved from suffering through the tedious interview process, which was worth taking a risk for.

---

As Eve sat at her desk, the world around her faded into obscurity. Without Sarah as the assistant manager, she'd been suffocating under piles of neglected paperwork, only now forcing her way through it. The main thought motivating her was that you were due to arrive any minute, for what she'd described as a first informal interview. The idea of conducting anything more formal this late into the evening was unappealing. So, based on the unusual circumstance by which you'd applied, and the strange time slot reserved, the interview would be more casual.

Finding that her eyes were starting to strain, she granted herself a quick break to look round the office. Eventually she settled on looking out the window, content watching the world pass by. The day had been unexpectedly hot, and some of that humidity still lingered, but judging by the gentle breeze filtering in through a crack in the window, the evening must've started to cool. A soft pink colour filled the sky, darkening to orange where the sun had just set over the horizon. From the other direction, a deep blue had begun to filter into view, the only indication that night was approaching.

When her gaze drifted back to the room, she realised that the pink light was cast around the room, bathing every surface in a delicate glow. How the simple beauty of the evening had previously escaped her attention was a mystery. One that prompted Eve to take a break to admire it.

The break was short-lived, however, as a sharp knock at the door quickly stole her attention away.

"Come in." She called out but found her voice hoarse from disuse. She frantically cleared her throat as the guest entered.

Eve looked up at you and smiled politely, then down at her desk, then did a double take. Although she hadn't given enough thought to form any preconceived image of what you might look like, she certainly hadn't expected someone quite so attractive.

As soon as the label crossed her mind, she was already berating herself for it. You'd barely entered the room and were here for business, she couldn't let herself think of you in that way. It was wrong. Both professionally and morally.

"Evening." Your voice was deep, smooth and with an accent she couldn't distinguish.

Eve tried her best to smile amiably, though she was sure the emotion wasn't reflected in her eyes. Instead she scanned your body from top to bottom, lingering on your neck, and then your hands. The action was automatic. An unintentional response to her attraction- and there it was again. She'd allowed herself to get distracted barely ten seconds later.

"Hi." Eve was too quiet, her tone lacking the necessary command. She swallowed. "Please, take a seat." And smiled, this time more genuinely.

"Thank you."

She watched you stiffly slide into the seat, effortlessly demanding the attention of the entire room. Although Eve had known you for less than a minute, she'd already decided that there was something hypnotic about the way you moved. From the slight twitch in the corner of your lips, to the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Every movement, regardless of it being barely perceptible, had her mesmerized, however she was mostly fixated on your hands. How they couldn't quite settle in your lap, rather were wrung about anxiously until abruptly stilling.

Your hands falling limp dragged Eve back into reality as it dawned on her that she'd been staring for a little longer than appropriate. She literally had to shake herself out of the senseless state and clear her throat once more before she was ready to continue.

"It's nice to meet you." Jolted into reality, she outstretched her hand, which you eagerly met. Your grip was firm, matched with a confident yet humble smile that looked well practiced.

"And you."

Eve already understood how you'd succeeded at accumulating such an impressive employment history, as every second of the interview so far, you'd acted perfectly. Like you'd written the book on 'How to Handle Job Interviews.'

"Just call me Eve." Separating from the handshake, she dismissively waved her hand, unable to hold the eye contact for any longer. There was an inquisitive manner to the way you were watching her, as though you were trying to ascertain the most information possible from appearance alone. Being exposed to your scrutinising glare caused Eve to shift in her seat, though not from discomfort or uneasiness, rather from inadmissible lust.

As the interview progressed, her eyes continued to occasionally stray toward your hands. Despite how hard she was trying to stay focused, she kept catching herself unintentionally imagining how they'd look gripping her waist, pushing apart her thighs. And if she blocked out this particular fantasy, then her attention would shift to your neck, and how she'd love to bite down on the supple skin presented to her.

She'd hoped that her fling with Amanda and Julian would've suppressed her incorrigible longing for pleasure, yet still found her thighs pressing together as her imagination overpowered reason. All the scandalous scenarios flashing through her mind only grew more vivid, more frequent. An incessant stream of borderline pornographic images, which worsened her guilt as she struggled to focus on what you were saying.

The cool breeze from earlier seemed to have vanished, replaced by unbearable humidity. She could feel herself sweating bucket loads, and only flushed more upon realising that she must've looked a mess; with stray hairs framing her face, an inability to sit still and a layer of perspiration covering her entire body. You'd probably noticed by now.

"God it's been hot recently." You commented, playing with the neckline of your shirt.

Had Eve not been observing you so closely, she would've guessed this was general small-talk. But judging on how you'd acted so far, this was a strategically placed act of mercy, a way of excusing her, no doubt, dishevelled appearance.

"Yeah." Eve chuckled, twirling a strand of hair round her finger. "We could move outside." She suggested, then quickly added. "If you wanted to, that is." Her desperation to please you came as a surprise. The roles should've been reversed. You should've been trying to impress her.

Eve had undeniably lost all authority in the situation, which simply excited her further.

---

When Eve laughed, she scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, which was inconvenient even at the best of times. Right now, however, she'd never despised the quirk quite so much.

As inconsequential as the current circumstances would look to any passer-by, she wanted to commit every detail to memory. From the lingering pink hue of dusk, to the way you threw your head back as you laughed. In fact, she wanted to memorise everything about you. Since leaving behind her stuffy office, conversation had flown easily between the two of you, the matter of employment seemingly dropped in place of getting to know one another. You'd indisputably gotten the job. Eve knew it. You knew it. So both were happy to indulge in a lighter tone of conversation.

The topic had turned to worst first date experiences, so she had very few to share with you, though that didn't stop her from enjoying listening to your little anecdotes.

"What about you?" Taking a calming breath after an outburst of laughter, you paused to ask her the dreaded question.

In comparison to your story, her worst date was relatively tame. "Well." She scratched at the corner of her eye, considering whether she could exaggerate in some way. "I went on a date recently that I had to walk out of."

"Really?" You folded your arms, leaning back against the brick wall. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess it just didn't feel right." She shook her head, hoping to deter any more questioning.

"Fair enough. Sometimes you just know- right?"

Eve drew her eyes away from being locked on the ground, finally summoning the resolve to look directly back at you. She bit her lip, compelling herself to nod.

There was something about you that was pure ecstasy to her. While looking at you, she could feel herself falling deeper into the hypnotic state she'd been in earlier, unable to tear her eyes away and unwilling to try. In spite of the normality of the situation, it felt meaningful. Eve didn't feel so alone, so out of place. Which made no sense to her as she'd known you for barely over an hour.

"What did you do after?" Your voice was somehow deeper, eyes lidded and posture relaxed. "After the date." You clarified.

The inquiry was personal, even without context that could be inferred. Eve hummed, delaying her response long enough to consider how much she was willing to divulge. "I-" She laughed nervously, suddenly embarrassed to confess. "I went swimming."

"Swimming?" Your eyebrows shot up, amused by the many connotations of her vagueness. "Where?"

Eve scuffed the heel of her shoe against the concrete ground, shamefully incapable of returning the eye contact. "Here." She admitted quietly, grinning as if in disbelief that she'd actually done it.

"Wow. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that." You took a deep breath, rendered speechless for a second. "So, you have access to the pool?"

Eve shifted restlessly, hesitant to pursue the topic any further. She knew where this was going, and that she shouldn't endorse this type of behaviour. But the heat wasn't helping, and neither was her overactive imagination. She was supposed to be responsible, but then again, so were you.

Inevitably the possibilities of what could be overpowered her better judgement. "Yes." She reached into her pocket, producing the coveted key ring and hanging it on her pointer finger.

Upon glancing up, she discovered you were watching her intently, indisputable lust reflected in your eyes. Eve found herself in one of those rare moments where she felt understood, on the same wavelength as someone else. The logical part of her brain argued that you were basically a stranger. That if she followed through on your shared idea, then your hiring and subsequent job experience would be forever tainted. But the possibilities were too tempting to ignore.

So when you asked. "Want to go swimming?"

She couldn't refuse.

---

You'd held her hand as she'd lead, the reasoning being that most the facility was shrouded in darkness. Though Eve liked the weight of your hand in hers, so she didn't bother to turn the lights on until reaching the pool. Only then did you separate, crouching down to check the temperature. You beamed with childlike joy as you waved your hand around in the water, skimming the surface then diving deeper down.

Eve grinned. Your pure happiness was infectious, the effect it had on her similar to being drunk. She was intoxicated from exhilaration. She would've been content watching you relish in the feeling of water running through your fingers for eternity, though to her dismay, you soon grew bored. And then to her surprise, you unabashedly began to strip. Her eyes were glued to the expanse of your back as you pulled your shirt over your head, and to the revealed skin as you tugged your trousers down.

She had to stop herself from stumbling back as the strange reality of the situation suddenly dawned on her. Instead, she reacted by comically clutching at her heart, clawing the fabric of her own shirt.

You turned to the side, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. "You coming?"

She chewed on her lip, pondering the two words in greater detail. This was you asking for consent, giving a final warning. You were both aware that this was an incredibly outlandish idea, an extremely irresponsible one that should've discouraged Eve. Yet it had the opposite effect.

Before she could overthink the consequences, her shaking hands were clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. At the unspoken confirmation, you smirked back at her, then without warning, threw yourself into the pool. The splash echoed round the room, proceeded by carefree laughter as you resurfaced and began leisurely swimming away from her. While you were busy, Eve took the chance to continue undressing without interference.

Her insecurities didn't emerge until it was too late, resolved moments later as she dove into the pool. The water was colder than she'd anticipated, but her burning desire dulled the intensity. Breaking through the water's surface, she inhaled deeply, grateful for the supply of oxygen. However, her breath was soon stolen from her as she noticed you were treading water directly in front.

Somehow, you looked even more beautiful now. With the wave's reflections dancing across your skin, your hair drenched and dripping. She wanted to chase after the droplets with her tongue, despite knowing she'd likely be met with the bitter taste of chlorine. But what really flustered Eve was the way you were staring at her; the hunger in your eyes that hinted at your intentions.

Your stillness was teasing her, the water practically stagnant around you both. Eve was becoming increasingly irritated, the heat between her legs only growing. So it didn't take long for her to snap. She lunged forward in an attempt to grab hold of you, though her hands couldn't quite clutch onto your slippery skin. She stumbled to the left, floundering around until you grabbed hold of her.

Upon securing her grip, she froze, due to both the sensation of your body pressed up against hers, and her embarrassment. She couldn't bare to look up, to face her awkward failure. After a beat of silence, she heard you laugh lightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant or mocking, but she insisted on keeping her eyes locked on the wall. That was, until your lips gently brushed against her ear.

"Were you trying to kiss me or drown me?"

She snorted, the tension leaving her body, then turned to rest her forehead on your shoulder. "The former. Definitely."

You laughed again. This time Eve joined in, happy to ignore what'd just occurred.

"Want to try that again, then?" You kissed just behind her ear, causing a shiver to suffuse across Eve's body. She waited a minute, expecting more before realising you intended for her to make the next move.

She glanced up at your face, fixating on your lips. You were so close. All she had to do was lean forward ever so slightly. One final glance to your lidded eyes confirmed you wanted the same- all she had to do was close the distance.

Taking a shaky breath, Eve shifted a hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb softly stroking your skin. There was no rush; you both wanted the same thing and were eager to revel in the experience. So, when her lips finally grazed against yours, there was no deep sigh or sudden change in pace, rather a blooming warmth in her chest. She was floating, both literally and metaphorically in a sea affection.

She kissed you again, this time with more conviction. Then fell backwards, her feet now comfortably resting on the bottom of the pool, her back hitting the wall as your grip on her waist tightened. You dragged a hand across her chest, causing her to gasp. Your touch was scolding compared to the cool water. A perfect balance between lustful heat and a mind-numbing, all-encompassing chill.

She raised her arms, flinging them around you and exhaling as her impatience reappeared. Though thankfully, you didn't make her wait long. Soon enough, your mouth had latched onto her neck, leaving messy kisses from behind her ear, to down by her shoulders. The feeling was pure bliss, encouraging her to lean into you and press your bodies closer together.

She didn't need to say anything. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Like you had her body memorised: every caress was perfectly placed, each touch just what she needed. It didn't take long for Eve to reach her pleasure, although she did spend a while in a dazed state of satisfaction, simply drifting in your arms. Eventually, she regained awareness to feel you tenderly nibbling on her lower lip, and eagerly reciprocated the kiss.

Motivated by the sudden fervour, she switched the positions, pushing you up to the wall.

"Get on the ledge." Eve murmured against your lips. She looped her arms under your thighs, ready to lift once you'd agreed.

Surprised by her abrupt confidence, you quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed nonetheless.

With you sat before her, she knew the evening was only just beginning, and judging by your breathless expression you felt exactly the same. This was one of those rare moments where Eve felt completely understood.

#eve fletcher x reader #mrs fletcher #eve fletcher

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aceinspace691 · 4 years ago

Text

Giant Dream is Scared of Humans Sapnap and George

Hey! This is a little story thing based on this post by @giant-tiny-squid!

I thought that it was a super interesting concept and I wrote a little more than I probably should have haha! Anyway here it is!

Warnings for: fear and swearing (I think that this is it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word count ~1700 words

When Sapnap and George had set out to visit the Badlands on the other side of the forest, it had been a nice and sunny day. They’d been laughing and cutting up with each other, banter passing easily as they walked along the forest. Sunlight danced through the leaves and provided a pleasant atmosphere as they travelled. But about a fourth of the way through the forest, they could see dark storm clouds gathering in the sky at an alarming pace. They decided to pick up their own pace as well, hoping they would make it through the forest or that the rain would simply pass them so they could make it through the forest safely. Like most things regarding these two, it didn’t go their way. “Holy shit!” George let out a startled exclamation as boom reverberated to the forest, loud and quick to follow the flash that preceded it. Sapnap let out a sharp laugh, nudging George’s shoulder. The armor they wore made a clinking sound as it connected. “Awwww, is Georgie scared of a little thunder?” “Shut up,” George’s cheeks turned a bit red as he shouldered Sapnap back, “let’s just keep moving and try to find some shelter.” A few moments later, it started to pour down heavy rain, and they were soaked. The both of them room out their weapons as mobs began to spawn, George with a sword and Sapnap with an axe. It wasn’t long before they spotted a cave ahead and made their way to it, trying to shake off the water that dripped from them. “That was crazy! That came out of nowhere, like, holy muffins.” “You’re starting to sound like Bad.” Sapnap chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes. “And seriously? You wanna talk about the weather of all things?” “What else would we even talk about? This dark cave?” George retorted. “Well, if you want to talk about the weather, I guess I could just make fun of you for your fear of thunder.” “What? No, it just caught me off guard.” “Sure,” Sapnap dragged it out with a smirk, not noticing how George went stiff. “I mean, seriously—“ “Sapnap, I—“ “No George, seriously, thunder? I mean I get if it was—“ “Sap—“ “Why do you keep trying to interrupt me? You know—“ “SAPNAP!” His voice echoed around the cave and Sapnap fell silent, finally following George’s gaze further into the cave. Right where they could see the silhouette of a giant. They couldn’t see much, just barely able to make out that it was likely male. Their attention was taken up by what little of him they could make out. But even then, they couldn’t see much other than a white smiling mask that covered a good bit of his face. There was a beat where no one moved, simply staring at each other, everyone in the cave tense. Anxiety pooled in the humans’ guts, intimidated by the being that could easily overpower the two hunters. And then lightning flashed, and oh. Oh. He was massive. And he was moving. As soon as there was any sign of movement from the giant, the humans let out a startled shout, Sapnap moved protectively in front of George, raising his axe defensively. But to their shock, the giant had moved further away from them. Not that there was much further he could go anyway from them; the cave itself wasn’t insanely large to begin with. The humans were stock-still, feeling confused as hell. Wasn’t the giant upset that they were in his cave, or whatever? Instead, as they examined the massive being not too far across the cave from them, George was first to notice how wide the green eye, which was just barely visible to them behind that smiling mask, was. The giant was... scared? But why, he was so much bigger and could easily defeat anything, so why...? Another flash of lightning was followed by a crash of thunder, which was then followed by a whine from the giant. George’s eyes softened. He must be scared of thunder. “Hey it’s okay, big guy.” He ignored the warning that Sapnap hissed under his breath as he stepped closer to the giant. His heart ached as the giant pressed himself further against the wall. “Thunder can be a bit scary sometimes. I know.” Sapnap, while George had though that the giant was scared of thunder, had connected the dots a bit better. He’d seen the way the giant eyed them and their weapons. And now that the giant was shying away from George of all people only further solidified that for him. Sapnap took a hesitant step forward to test his theory, the giant’s eyes snapping over to him at the movement. “Are you...” he licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “Are you scared of us?” He was met with a whimper from the giant, and Sapnap shifted his grip on the axe as the giant moved slightly. “Don’t hurt me.” The giant pleaded, green eye wide and watery with fear. Fear of the humans. “Please leave.” Now, both humans were utterly confused, especially George. However, their thought processes were a bit different on the situation. George wanted to immediately reassure the giant that they weren’t going to hurt him and was hoping he could convince him to let them stay. He himself was wary of being there with the giant, but it didn’t seem like he meant them any harm. Besides, there wasn’t really anywhere they could go. With the storm and mobs outside, it wouldn’t be a smart move to leave the cave. Sapnap, on the other hand, was thinking about how they could use the giant’s fear to their advantage. They could have a guard for the night, maybe longer. And that would mean that George would be safe. Unfortunately for the giant, Sapnap spoke first. “We won’t.” He told the giant, watching closely as the being seemed to relax a bit. “If,” and just like that he was tense again “you let us stay here tonight and keep us safe. And take off the mask.” “I—uh. Yeah, for sure, uh, deal, deal.” The giant was quick to agree, licking his lips as the slipped the mask off of his face. This, he hesitated with quite a bit, but he seemed to accept defeat as he removed it, revealing a lightly freckled face with a few scars. “Sapnap,” George hiss under his breath, “what are you doing?” “Just trust me.” He returned with a small smirk, looking back up to the giant and clearing his throat. His voice was louder as he addressed the giant again. “Tell us about yourself.” “I, uh, of course!” And just like that, desperate words began to spill out of his mouth. “I’m Dream. There’s not much to say about me, really. I just live out here. Well, not here here, but, uh I got caught out in the storm. That’s about it.” Dream was met with silence and chewed on his lip anxiously. He continued to ramble on, breathing picking up a bit as one of the humans shifted closer. The one with the sword, his mind helpfully informed him. “A-and I’m alone now and I won’t bother you if you leave or just let me leave and-and I haven’t hurt anyone, I swear, and so you don’t need to kill me. Or tell anyone about me. Or-or send anyone to hunt me down, just please.” This eyes were wide, and earnest, and damn his face was just so expressive. It made guilt worm it’s way into the humans’ hearts. “Woah, hey, nobody’s hurting or killing anyone.” Dream’s eyes snapped to the one with the sword. The one with the accent. “Why would you think that? Is that why you’re...afraid of us?” George looked up at the giant with big eyes, following the giants a panicked gaze to his sword and then to Sapnap’s axe. Realization finally clicked and he tucked it away, urging Sapnap to do the same. “Wha—George!” He whined. “Sapnap,” George warned. “But, I really think that—“ “Sappitus. Nappitus.” He was met with a groan before the other finally out his axe away, raising his hands and walking a bit further away to sit on a rock, murmuring under his breath. “Don’t worry about him,” George offered a small smile up at the giant, heart warming a bit at the tentative smile he got in return. “He’s just really protective of his friends. But you’re not going to hurt us. Are you?” Dream quickly shook his head. “No, and, uh, if you let me leave—“ “No.” George backtracked at the look on the giant’s face, and he shivered as a gust of wind blew into the cave and chilled his still-soaked body. “No, no, I just mean that we should all stay. You were here first, but me and Sap wont be safe if we leave either. Maybe we can work something out? I’m George, by the way.” He ignored the way his heart hammered as Dream hesitantly leaned closer, or tried to anyway. He still took an instinctive step back, and he could see something akin to recognition flashed in those big green eyes. “You’re scared of me too.” Dream breathed, the warmth washing over George. It took everything in him not to back away from the giant more as the breath gently ruffled his hair. He gave a slow nod, waiting for the giant’s reaction.

Would he realize that he could simply get rid of them? But... no, Dream just offered a small smile to the human and a soft, considering hum. “Uh, obviously.” Sapnap had stood up from where he was sitting, watching the scene carefully. “You’re kind of huge, dude. That’s why I didn’t want to put my axe away.” The three of them dissolved into a conversation, hesitantly at first and then getting a bit more comfortable as they worked out the details of their time in the cave. They came to the decision that they’d all stay for the night and then part ways, and they’d light a fire to warm up the drenched humans. “Wait, wait,” Dream was saying, choking back laughter as he shifted a bit closer to the humans by the fire. They were comfortable enough around each other now, but he still moved slowly, cautiously. “You guys were bashing me for being afraid of humans, who could kill me if they tried, but Georgie here is scared of thunder?” “Exactly!” Sapnap’s grin was wide as he laughed. “And he wonders why I teased him for it.” “Shut up!” George groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m not scared of thunder. And even if I was, like, it’s loud and lightning can hit you.” The three bickered for a bit before they fell asleep. And if the humans came back after the storm had cleared? Well, no one needed to know that, did they?

--------------------------------------------------

And there it is! let me know what y’all thought, and feel free to send my asks if you want! my box is open :D

#giant!dream #tiny!george #tiny!sapnap #mcyt gt #ace writes #sapnap and george are tiny but terrifying #to dream at least lol #its 4am why am I awake

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lilover131 · 3 years ago

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Chapter 56 Analysis+Theories

AHHHHHH CHAPTER 56 AHHHHHH!!! <--Chrissy every time a chapter comes out

I wasn’t as hyped up about this one as I was for the last one thankfully, seeing as we didn’t have a super long wait, but I certainly don’t want to diminish in any way the importance of this chapter!!!

I won’t waste any time and will get right to it, so buckle in, cuz’ the theory train is coming! More under the cut!

So I’ll start by saying that when I first read the chapter, it was 2 AM where I was. I had been sleeping and just kinda magically woke up right when the chapter just came out, so I like to think there was some fate there. But when I opened that chapter on my phone and the first thing I saw was that Syaoran color spread, I audibly gasped and instantly woke up a bit.

I woke up not because it was absolutely stunning to look at, or even at the fact that we haven’t had Syaoran in a color page for a while. No, the thing that caught my attention was the serious atmosphere it contained and the tone that it seemingly set. To me, this was one of CLAMP’s subtle ways of saying “Prepare for the final battle”. I could be reading into it too much, but I was right about what I believed the Syaoran and Kaito color page insinuated, so I’m gonna stick to my guns here.

We start off the chapter without a moment’s pause where we left off last time. It continues right from the last point of the conversation where Sakura dropped the bombshell that she had seen Kaito use magic. She seems to think that they may not believe her at first, but Syaoran interrupts her to affirm that he 100% believes her and that he even already knew. Sakura is naturally confused by this, but he finally FINALLY gets to tell her what he’s been dealing with this whole time, and it definitely seems to be an uncomfortable topic for him. But at least this time he got to tell Sakura truthfully that he hadn’t ever intended on keeping this from her but was physically not able to. Despite not needing to feel guilty about this, Syaoran seems uncomfortable for the simple fact that someone else had that much control over him, and he was unable to do a thing to stop it. It’s also important to keep in mind that Kero and Suppi were hearing this for the first time themselves as well (about the silencing at least).

Not much time passes after this before Kero and Suppi fess up to also knowing about Kaito, but they admit that theirs was a conscious decision rather than force, but that they believe they too would have been silenced like Syaoran was had they attempted to speak. One could say that since they didn’t know Syaoran was silenced in the way he was that this is not entirely truthful or was just a bad decision, but in reality it still makes perfect sense why they thought to be more careful. They saw Kaito’s magic first hand violently take down Eriol, and if he could shut down a magician of that caliber from halfway across the world, then he could easily do the same or worse to the guardians. And since they also weren’t yet aware of his true intentions with Sakura, it would have been likely seen as dangerous to provoke him and possibly put Sakura in harm’s way. I guess the only thing that doesn’t make much sense to me is why Syaoran and the guardians didn’t collaborate and put together what they knew sooner. Even when Yue went to Syaoran’s apartment, the topic of Kaito or Eriol never came up, and since they both clearly had Sakura’s best interest in mind, I’m not sure specifically why they chose to keep their information to themselves when they both knew they had the same goal. This, I would say, was actually a bad decision on their part, but when it comes down to it, they’re not perfect and everyone makes mistakes (I think Cinzia made the same point here, so I apologize if it seems like I’m copying here! I just also agree when it comes to this).

I’m actually going to pull in a little thing I learned from my counselor not long ago when I felt guilt over a particular decision I had made long ago, and that is that you can only work based on the emotions and information you have at the time. And because we don’t know the future, it is not possible to always make the right decisions, but there is also no telling if our decisions would have changed things for the better, so it is best not to dwell on them. I believe truly that based on what they knew at the time and through the experiences they had, they were likely only trying to protect each other, but missed that they could have probably helped each other. It’s easy to miss things when you’re on the defensive.

What I love about Sakura after this is that she forgives them immediately. This is not the first time she’s had things hidden from her for her protection, and naturally it’s upsetting to not feel like you can be trusted to deal with the serious information. When Syaoran told her how he’d been hiding what he knew before, she was upset but more because she thought he suffered as a result. This time around though, they concealed things from her not because they were worried about how she’d handle it, but rather out of fear from what Kaito would do if they tried, so it’s a completely different reason and much easier to forgive. Sakura is able to differentiate this, because she is a very emotionally intelligent girl and a lot more observant than she gets credit for when it comes to reading people. She’s grown a lot and isn’t as ‘dense’ as she was in Elementary School.

Then we get a precious gift of seeing Syaoran show off how smart he is, working out how Kaito managed to make them forget about said confrontation at the botanical garden. He’s probably thought about it a lot already, considering he mentioned before that he felt like someone made him forget something. But this time, he had additional information that Sakura was able to provide, and this was the final piece of the puzzle he needed. The most important detail that Sakura gave him was the location in particular, the botanical garden. He knew that that was where they intended to go, but that they had yet to go there. This prompted him to check his phone and see how much time might have passed without them realizing, and because he knew what time he had arranged to meet Sakura, 9:30 AM, he was able to observe that it was impossible for them to meet, go to the botanical garden, have this encounter with Kaito, and both get back to their houses in only 16 minutes. This meant it was not just a mere meddling of memories but rather time magic as it was the only explanation for the time discrepancy issue and memory loss. I can’t say how freaking proud I was of Syaoran for working this out. He’s such a smart boy, but I know that Sakura also would have been able to come to the same conclusion had she had more knowledge about the magical world. Sakura is running on pure instinct right now, which is super strong, but Syaoran really helps fill in those gaps where things don’t make sense for her, making them the perfect magical team!

The scene changes to Momo, who appears to be keeping tabs on the conversation (though it’s unclear if Kaito is aware while they are under Siege). And this part is perhaps the most worrying of the entire chapter, and I’m not talking about the line where the English translation says “Into the final act of your story”. That line in particular is a gross mistranslation cleared up by @meimi-haneoka, who graciously gives us translation notes each month in comparison to the Japanese version. The actual line in fact says “Into the final act of THE story”. This changes the entire tone of that page as the first translation implies it is leading to Kaito’s death, whereas the Japanese translation actually more implies that we’re nearing the climax of the story. Momo’s facial expressions also match the wording of the Japanese translation better, as we know she does not seem to want Kaito to die, so she would certainly look more upset here if she were speaking of such a thing. Also, I have to speak up about how pretttyyyy Kaito looks in that panel. The way CLAMP designed that page is just stunning as always.

HOWEVER

Back to what I was saying before! The most concerning part of the chapter for me is the page right before that, where Momo says “Once a spell’s been seen for what it is, it all comes crumbling down. Particularly, where time magic is concerned. And that’s to say nothing of your target’s considerable power. Now everything you’d turned back time to undo. Everything you’ve succeeded in freezing…is beginning to move again”. So here comes Chrissy’s big crazy theory and possible overthinking, but bear with me here!

I think…that what they are saying here is that these moments that were frozen in time and turned back were cut off from the timeline and now floating in a separate space. And now these scenes, which were all intense in their own way and incredibly frustrating for us, are about to move forward.

….all of them….

….at the same time….

This concept isn’t exactly new in CLAMP series. It happened with Tsubasa where Syaoran turned back time to go back to a moment where he could take Sakura’s hand and keep her from being cursed, and to keep that moment ready until he could return, it was in its own separate dimension, cut off from the rest of the universe. Eventually, once he got there, time started to move forward again. Turning back time is a taboo in the magical world for a reason, and Kaito has done this over and over and over again. But also, wouldn’t it be so like CLAMP to say “Hey, we know you’ve been frustrated that all these scenes were seemingly amping up to a big confrontation, but then Kaito rewound time over and over, so how about we give those back….ALL AT THE SAME TIMMMMEE?”. Can you even imagine the consequences of such a thing? At least three of the occasions where Kaito turned back time, Akiho went into what I call ‘book-mode’, where she is no longer herself and tries to absorb Sakura along with her magic (and even succeeds on one occasion). Then there is also Syaoran and Kaito’s battle and Syaoran having his outburst about Kaito being a magician right in front of Akiho. It would be absolute utter chaos, and honestly I’d be living for it. Lmao.

If you believe that this line Momo said was simply to state that his time magic won’t work anymore and that things will continue to progress in this timeline, that would make perfect sense as well, so I don’t want to discount that. I’m just throwing out theories here based on what I know about CLAMP and concepts that are not out of the realm of possibility.

The scenes from here on out bounce a little bit back and forth from a continuation of the conversation with Syaoran and the guardians and present time with Akiho at school. I kinda like the way they did the transitions here, and it didn’t really feel awkward at any point but rather pulled up the relevant information when it was needed.

When Akiho comes in to the classroom, Sakura recalls how the topic of Akiho came up in the conversation from the day before. It’s natural for everyone to question at this point what she knows and if she is someone to be concerned about too. Syaoran mentions that he can’t detect any magic from her, which was something he had looked into from the very first day Akiho arrived at Tomoeda Middle (he knew literally nothing about her, but you know how transfer students go in this town. Lmao). Sakura drops another bombshell here by saying that she actually senses something in Akiho, but she is unclear of what that is and why she feels that way. It’s completely likely that she’s strong enough now to sense the suppressed magic spell the association and her clan put on her. I also noticed Syaoran seemed to tense up when Sakura said this, and I’m sure that this new information probably made him feel very uneasy. Sakura’s instincts are never wrong, and if she feels something, that means there is something, but to think that it’s something even Syaoran can’t sense would definitely be concerning.

It is then that Syaoran decides to approach the idea of addressing Akiho directly about Kaito’s magic to see what she knows. Maybe at this point in time he is thinking “If she possibly has some sort of magic in her, then she might know already about Kaito”, but like Sakura, he has seen Akiho’s behavior as a person and probably believes that she is not doing anything malicious of her own accord. Perhaps he thinks that Akiho might be able to talk some sense into Kaito and put a stop to things. But the way he goes about it doesn’t push Sakura, but rather just offers it as a suggestion as something a bit more direct.

Before we see Sakura’s response to this, we are back to Akiho in the classroom and she is very cheerful from having gone out with Kaito the day prior, and OMG CAN I JUST GUSH FOR A MOMENT ABOUT HOW FREAKING PRECIOUS SHE IS? She is seriously adorable, and the more I see her smile, the more it makes me want to burn her whole clan down to the ground for being so awful to her. But also, it reminds me how strong she is to have gone through everything she did and still smile and hold no hatred in her heart. I can’t honestly say I would be the same in her shoes, so it’s really admirable. For those My Hero Academia fans out there, remember Eri’s smile? You know the one I’m talking about. That’s how I feel every time Akiho smiles.

Anyways, back to Sakura’s response. She decides, in a very Sakura-like fashion, to avoid the subject with Akiho for now. It is true that they don’t fully understand who Kaito is and what his intentions are, but the one thing she does know is that he is considered precious to Akiho, and that at least says something about his character. Akiho herself also isn’t an idiot and is perceptive to Kaito’s feelings. Even when he’s smiling, she can tell when he’s actually hurting inside, so if he had bad intentions at all, that likely wouldn’t go unseen either, so Sakura decides that she’ll wait for Akiho to come to her first if the discussion between them needs to happen. I think this is a very mature decision on her part but also continues to show how much she considers the people around her and cares for them.

Back in the present, Akiho apologizes for talking so much, and Sakura tells her that she doesn’t mind and will listen to whatever she has to say. More than just trying to show good will as a friend, I think this is also her way of opening up the door to tell her “If you want to talk about more serious things, I’m here to listen as well”. That way, when the time comes, Akiho will feel comfortable having that conversation with her.

The scene moves on to Yukito’s home where all the guardians are having a nice little get together in their true forms. It’s not entirely necessary for all but Yue to do this, but I love it as we haven’t gotten to see much of them in these forms in the series so far, especially Spinel and Ruby Moon. Ruby Moon is surprised that they decided to go along with what Sakura said, which I suppose makes sense considering they’ve been kinda doing their own thing up until now. But it turns out that it was Syaoran who made the final decision, and the others just took his lead.

I love that Syaoran was so comfortable just trusting Sakura and realizing that this time, they needed to let her make some choices, especially since it concerned her the most. Moreover, I love that Kero, Suppi, and Yue just basically caved when Syaoran agreed. This shows how much they respect the opinion of not just Sakura, but Syaoran too. They could have easily gone off and continued to work secretly without Sakura, but they didn’t do that. It obviously didn’t work well for them before anyways.

I cracked up when Ruby Moon mentioned how much Syaoran has grown a lot and used to be a ‘pouty brat’ back when they were in Japan the last time (in his defense, Eriol was screwing with him a lot, so he had a lot of good reasons for the bratty attitude. Lmao). But Kero and Yue’s responses are just precious. They both have the same expression initially, but their actual responses seem to differ quite a bit. Kero states that he will always be a brat to him and that he’s only grown ‘a little’. This is classic Kero essentially saying he agrees that he’s grown a lot, but he won’t admit it yet, hence why Spinel calls him childish. Hahahaha.

Yue’s response however makes me absolutely melt. He states he’s not upset about the mention of Syaoran’s growth, but that that he doesn’t think they “should be in such a hurry to grow up”. He sounds just like a freaking dad here who is happy to see his children grow up, but is also wanting to them to slow down and stay children simultaneously. I am absolutely living for it, and I love seeing how soft he gets when it comes to them. -squeals-

Despite how lighthearted this scene is, I’m gonna put out another theory here that might seem like I’m overthinking and perhaps makes this appear a bit darker than possibly intended. My thought was “Why did CLAMP put such focus on this subject right now?”. They could have simply stated that they decided to go along with Sakura and been done with it, but the made a point to talk about the children’s growth as human beings, particularly Syaoran. Now where am I going with this you ask? Perhaps it’s the Tsubasa PTSD speaking, but when CLAMP has dialogue like this, it usually it done quite purposely at times, because it is meant to enhance our emotions when a particular moment comes later on. So when I thought “Now, why would they be talking so much about how Syaoran’s grown emotionally and how much Kero and Yue care about him?”. I think they are trying to emphasize how much people in general care about him. CLAMP showed it again recently with Touya, who threatened Kaito and purposely included Syaoran in his statement, and again when Kaito pointed his staff at Syaoran and Sakura reacted. CLAMP is pointing out right now how much people care about Syaoran, and I think this is once again a signal that something bad is going to happen to Syaoran, and I think it’s going to be soon.

Now, Cinzia actually recently found my reaction to spoilers of chapter 1 of Clear Card (that’s right, chapter 1 from all the way back in 2016), and from the very beginning, I have been screaming at the top of my lungs that I had the worst feeling that something bad was going to happen to Syaoran. I imagine some of you are probably tiring of hearing it from me. Lmao. So here we are, 55 chapters and numerous bad dreams later, and I finally feel like that time is really really close. I’m calling it right now that it will probably happen within the next 4-5 chapters, and if I’m wrong, I will eat my words, but them even putting Syaoran on the color page all by himself for this chapter gives me more reason to think that “that time” is approaching.

That is a good transition for me to talk about the last part of this chapter. We are finally getting some progress on this play Naoko has been writing, and the moment she mentioned it was about “Twin Alices”, I thought to myself “this is going to be where the climax happens”. The pieces are coming together for it, and we’ve finally gotten to hear the premise of this play. We all knew Naoko would ask Sakura and Akiho to play the main roles, but it’s unclear what the role she wants for Syaoran will be when she inevitably peer pressures him into it. Lol. But I’m telling you, I really think this play is where shit is going to hit the fan and we’ll finally get some real answers.

I can’t wait to see what happens from here on out, but it’s very clear to me that things are just going to get more and more intense from here on out!!

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iaintyourbro · 3 years ago

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The Unknown Journey Continues

Part 1

I know it's been a while... but I've been going down a rabbit hole with @starlight-samurai regarding time loops, Jenova, Minerva, and more fun. So I figured I'd try to put it into one post to get the insanity out of my head. Everything in here is based on things we've found by either going through more obscure Ultimanias, learning more about Dirge of Cerberus and trying to decipher what the hell Jenova is by putting together various sources - including other Square Enix games - and how they handled freakishly similar scenarios.

Did you know there is a companion mobile game for it that was out on the good old flip phones? Did you know there was an online mode in Dirge of Cerberus only available in Japan, but had story elements that were not in the main game?

The sad part is, there's still so much to go through...

(I've also had various discussions with @ourfinalheaven, Manu, who doesn't have Tumblr, so here is her Twitter. and Somebody's Nightmare (here is her Twitter). So I wanted to tag them here, as it's much more fun to discuss these ideas as a group, since it'll only help you build on and strengthen your own ideas.)

Please be aware, there will be Spoilers for FFVII - Almost all Compilation titles, Xenogears, and NieR Automata throughout this.

So let's go on a journey where we explore what actually already exists in the compilation - including the idea of the whispers and timeloops - how Minerva may play into everything, and what exactly Jenova is capable of doing.

I asked Sesi if he'd ever played any of the NieR games, because he'd said something that made me wonder if they were going to take a similar approach. As a very, very quick high level summary: NieR Automata deals with a time loop type of idea. The androids will be rebooted and repeat the same things over and over again. This is broken when 2B is killed by A2 because she becomes infected with a virus. That being said, you have the option after Ending E to either erase all of your data and end the cycle OR you can try again. The Pods have a discussion, and one asks, "But won't they just do the same thing again?" and the other replies with "Maybe. But it could also be different this time."

Here's Sesi's message back to me when I asked him about this (cleaned up a bit since we were having a casual conversation over Discord):

Maybe I could just guess based comparatively on the Dirge storyline, because that was sort of SE's first flirtation with “robots and androids” since they’re all programmed and locked behind like task managers and shit that can shut them down. The story of the online mode for DoC that came out in Japan, we never got to see it, you’re basically an Android OC and you have to get to “the end of the level” and then essentially die, and a new one takes its place. This keeps happening until Weiss is essentially freed from being able to be task managed by the guys who are suppose to be able to control them and I know from tons of years with Square games that they’re verrrrry bad at differentiating their narratives they tend to just keep “ripping themselves off” so is it anything close to that?

Cuz if so I think I kinda know what you’re saying and yeah, I agree, I think with CC bringing in its poetic symbolism and LOVELESS, and DoC bringing back the cyclic nature of the lore, whispers, premonitions and future visions, proto-Materia and the perversion of this next cycle since the planet can no longer cleanse and protect itself and its will is weakening lesser and lesser to the point where it’s fate is “in a true sense of jeopardy This time essentially it’s all tied in together and sort of played as though it's a fated track; a cycle of events and something has hitched it, thus the whispers manifesting and Sephiroth's higher implied control over his destiny. Of course, even all that is just their new red herring game, but it’s definitely a part of the lore they want to play with, in order to go back and reMAKE the OG with the comp inserted from inception. Also gut punch a lot.

Time Loops

I was somewhat surprised to find out that this concept is NOT new to FFVII's universe. It's discussed in Dirge of Cerberus... probably one of the least played and least understood of the compilation. (Trying to sell a third person shooter with terrible controls to a market of mostly people used to turn-based combat wasn't going to go well.)

On top of it, we didn't even get all of it, since online mode was never released outside of Japan, and the Dirge of Cerberus Lost Episode was on Amp'd Mobile and Verizon flip phones back in 2006. Were you around for the cell phones in 2006? I had the ones on the list, and how somebody could play a game on those blows my mind.

Square has a tendency to reuse themes from their other titles. Probably one of the most blatant is the similarities between Xenogears and Final Fantasy VII. They were both being developed at the same time and a lot of ideas that didn't make it into FFVII ended up in Xenogears.

NieR

So how does this work? In NieR (both Replicant and Automata), you play the same path multiple times. Each time, it's slightly different depending on what side quests you did your first and second playthrough, but there's also other subtle differences throughout the story. In Automata, you get to play as 2B your first playthrough and 9S for your second. They follow the same path, but you get it from his perspective the second time and it reveals a bit more of what is going on. However, even with some slight differences, the main plot points stay the same and the ending result it also the same.

Then on your third playthrough, you wake up in the Bunker, and you're getting ready to go on a new mission. This time, though, 2B is killed and shit hits the fan. Things get crazy, you play as a new character: A2. In the end, pretty much everyone "dies", but you can choose to "reboot" and try again. You also can say you are done and let them all rest and delete your save data (the game gives you the option for both Automata and Replicant, and with Replicant, it actually leads to a new ending).

The striking thing for me is... There are certain events that will always happen, no matter what.

Fixed Points in Time

It's been years since I've watched Doctor Who, but there was something that stuck with me, and that was the fixed points in time. You can read about all of them here, but here's the basics:

Now, of course Doctor Who goes into this with much more detail and it's a recurring theme. However, as you read through that page, you'll probably find many aspects that have been used in various JRPGs that you've played. And Doctor Who most likely pulled some of the idea from classic Science Fiction novels. Each story puts its own spin on it.

How does this relate to FFVII Remake? Well, when they say that the major plot points will stay the same, it reminds me of this. No matter what, Cloud must fall into the Sector 5 Church, the Sector 7 Plate must be dropped, Aerith and Zack both must die, and Meteor has to be summoned, to name a few. So, with a time loop, those things would still have to take place in order to prevent a complete collapse of reality (at least in how Doctor Who uses it).

Therefore, the Whispers are ensuring that the Will of the Planet is followed.

One of the major themes in FFVII is that of loss. People die and they do not come back. Yes, other FF games do allow this to happen (FFX, FFXIII, FFXV), but VII is not those games. It was written with that idea in mind, that once a person dies, they, just like in real life, are dead and cannot be brought back.

I've previously written that I think they'll make us believe we are able to change fate, but we will eventually be slammed with the reality that we can't. That is because the planet has determined that certain events are fixed points.

Xenogears

Xenogears takes a bit of a different approach to the loop idea. Instead of repeating the same time period over and over, it has the characters reincarnated, and the same outcome happens each time: Elly dies. However, each time it's different. After all, they're in various time periods, in some cases thousands of years apart.

In all of the lives of Fei (who will have a different name in each time period) and Elly (who is always Elly/Elhaym), Elly will end up dying trying to protect Fei and the others. In one life, she is a religious figure at a totally not Catholic church, in another she's the wife of a scientist who was working to create children from nanomachines due to mass infertility issues. But she is ALWAYS with Fei, even if his name changes.

In her Mother Elhaym time, this is when Lacan (Fei) finally snaps. Though he's not fully aware of his past lives, he becomes aware, the anger consumes him, and he becomes Grahf. Fei is then reborn into the time period you play the game in.

There's a lot to unpack with this, so I won't go into it. Grahf wants to destroy God (Deus) because he thinks if he does, then it'll stop the suffering (his suffering).

If you do want to read more about Grahf, you can do so here, but it probably won't make much sense unless you've played Xenogears up to that point... Since it's much later in the game that this is all explained.

Lacan's desire was to stop the cycle of Elly always sacrificing herself for his sake. Though Grahf is not a perfect existence - he's not fully "The Contact", he sacrifices himself in order to let Fei move forward, and hopefully stop the cycle, by destroying the Deus system. (Elly also tries to sacrifice herself here, but Fei goes after her and stops her.)

Now, some people may think I'm saying that Cloud or somebody is going to do this in order to save Aerith or Zack (or his village or mom), but in FFVII if they do the loop method, I don't think Cloud, Tifa, Barret, and the others are aware of it. Most likely, it's only 'Sephiroth' and Aerith who are aware of it.

How this Could Be used for Final Fantasy VII

I'm stressing could because there's so many different possibilities on how they use this (if they are using this), so please, don't take this as fact. This is based on speculation based on what we know.

A time loop is a great way to explain away the differences in the story that we've seen: Biggs being alive, Wedge living for longer than he should have, etc. Since these are not major plot changes, they can simply say that this time it'll be slightly different... but your fixed points (major plot points) will remain the same.

It's a way to pull in some of the more obscure themes from Dirge of Cerberus and also play with the LOVELESS lore.

It could all simply be a big red herring and it's really just a remake of OG, but with the compilation tied together nicely... since it works much better when it's combined and not in 50 different games, books, movies, etc.

I don't think it's a "sequel" per say, not in the way I generally perceive a sequel. It's more of a loop of the same thing. The question is, when is the loop started and what will cause it to end? When will the planet (if it even is the planet) determine that it's good enough to begin moving forward?

JENOVA, Sephiroth, Genesis, and Minerva - Oh My!

Let's be real... Genesis isn't exactly the most popular character in the FFVII Compilation... but what if they make him one of the most important to the story? //Ducks as various fruits and vegetable are thrown in my direction//

I think what Genesis is probably most known for is his love of LOVELESS. He has the entire thing memorized and randomly says lines from it throughout Crisis Core. LOVELESS lore is still something I'm trying to grasp, so I am not going to comment much on it. Once I understand it more, I'll update this.

...And then this happens. The secret ending for Dirge of Cerberus, where Genesis picks up Weiss. Weiss, who has now been introduced along with Nero in FFVII INTERmission and is an optional ridiculously hard boss in the Shinra battle simulator in chapter 17 of the main story. There is some lore associated with the battle sim - so if you don't plan on beating it or you just can't, you can look up the pre-battle and post-battle cut scenes on YouTube. They're very short, but interesting. (I beat this asshole last night - it's a hell of a fight.)

....To Be Continued because apparently Tumblr won't allow more than 10 images per post now.... Next will be more on JENOVA and Sephiroth along with Minerva.

#ffvii #ffvii genesis #ff7 genesis #ff7 intergrade #ff7 intermission spoilers #FFVII intermission spoilers #FFVII Intermission #Final Fantasy VII #Dirge of Cerberus #FFVII Weiss #Xenogears #nier automata #final fantasy vii #ff7r #final fantasy 7 #timey wimey

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motherlybitch · 4 years ago

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I genuinely think Life of Pi is my favourite book in the world.

1. The character is of Pi is so well done. On my first read through I thought that the first and second half of the book were unrelated and it confused me. I felt like I could have skipped over most of the first half. But the first half is necessary for understanding the second half. The reason Pi created his story of the tiger and the lifeboat is due to his characters spirituality. How he believes in Hinduism, Islam and Catholicism at the same time even though these religions contradict each other. He relies on these stories as a way to escape the realities of life, and appreciates them as beautiful concepts rather than literal truths.

2. I think this book is a good way for atheist people to appreciate religion and understand it’s purpose. I feel like the whole novel is meant to simulate the experience of growing up in a religion, learning about all of its complexities and details, and then begin to question the validity of that religion. Feeling let down realizing that things might not really be the way you had always thought they were. You spend so much time reading about Pi’s time on the boat, all the little details down to the number of cans of water he had, that you feel disappointed when he tells the alternative story about the chef. On one hand, the tiger story is much more unbelievable than the version with the chef, but you would rather the tiger story be true. You spent so much time reading about the tiger for it all to be just made up? It’s confusing and disappointing and it’s a lot like I felt when I realized that there were other possible explanations to the things religion attempts to explain.

3. There are so many parallels between the structure of Pi’s tiger story and actual religions. There’s an entire chapter dedicated to listing every single item on the life boat. “193 cans of water. 24 flares... etc.” It takes up more than two full pages. It reminds me of those section of religious texts that are just dedicated to overly detailed documentation. How much cattle or sheep a certain person owned or the extended lineage of a family. There are also huge times skips where Pi just sits in the life boat for a week which reminds me of how some religious texts just skip over a few hundred years here and there. There are some parts of Pi’s story that are actually very possible and make sense, like when he distils salt water to make drinking water in those little contraptions. There are many parts of religious texts that are entirely possible. There are also parts of Pi’s story that are entirely impossible. Mainly when he finds a carnivorous island covered in meerkats. It reminds me of all the parts of religious texts that seem very impossible and on their own seem crazy, but these stories are mixed in with detailed accounts and plausible stories that the completely unrealistic portions seem possible.

And the whole time Richard Parker is just there. Sometimes he interferes, but he mostly just has an underlying presence throughout Pi’s story. And then when Pi lands and the tiger story ends, Richard Parker is just gone. He’s off to roam the jungle and is presumably still out there somewhere, but he is no longer a character in the story, he no longer interferes in a meaningful way. It’s not hard to see that Richard Parker represents a god figure.

4. The conversation with the reporters at the end is very similar to the futile discussions that happen between atheists and religious people. The reporters point out that the whole carnivorous island part is very difficult to believe, although not technically possible to disprove. They also wonder about the part where the gorilla floated over on a pile of bananas because they don’t know if bananas float. This is something they can test and they fill up a sink and put a banana in it to find out that bananas actually do float. But they realize that just because bananas float that doesn’t mean Pi’s entire story is true. Proving one part of the story does not mean that the rest is true by default. My aunt likes to say thing like “You know Noah and the flood must be real because there is geological evidence of a large flood and they found sea shell fossils on Mount Everest.” Which, even if that is true, it doesn’t prove anything about the validity of the rest of the religion. Having “facts based” discussions related to religion are often futile.

There are so many other parts of the story I think a lot about. Like the part when Pi went blind for a bit, came across another cast away who was also blind, but then that cast away was killed by Richard Parker. I feel like I see something new every time I read it. I think that the way I feel about Life of Pi is the same way that Plato buffs feel about the Matrix. I can’t think of another novel from the past 20 years that even comes close to Life of Pi and I think everyone should read it

Sorry this post is so long. I’m not even sure if it makes sense. I just have a lot of thoughts💕

#books and literature #life of pi #bookblr

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

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Magician’s Assistant - Trance

I heard you liked cliffhangers so here’s a cliffhanger for your cliffhanger. Much thanks to @nightfrostshadow for requesting another piece of this, you’re really a cheerleader for this series!

The rest of Magician’s Assistant can be found linked to in my info post, pinned at the top of my blog. I hope you enjoy!

CW//Some dehumanizing language, food

Villain was scared.

Of course, Friend had expected that. Anticipated it, almost taken a moment to imagine just how it would appear, nerves twisted upon such a feeble countenance. Civilian had warned them as such over the phone, warned them to be gentle, to go slow, to avoid any sudden movements-- as though they were talking about something dangerous, something feral.

In a way, they were.

But, now, as their new charge stood before them, there was something almost unbelievable about the sheer depths of their terror, and the way they presented it.

Villain was small, short in stature and so awfully thin that a stiff gust of wind could more than likely shatter their twig-like bones to shards. They looked upwards like a scared puppy dog, bag held in front of them with both hands like a shield, as though, if they simply kept it there, they would be safe, forever and ever.

And, hopefully, they would be. It was perhaps only a minute or so ago that Civilian had coaxed them through the door, shoving a handful of messily written instructions into Friend’s hands with a hurried ‘thank you.’ That meant that they had a week. A week to keep this- this thing calm, comfortable, and, more importantly than any of that, under control.

They could balance the most complex of equations, withdraw patients from near-death, turn caustic chemicals to life-saving medicines. But taking care of someone so anxious? And without...

No. They didn’t back down from a challenge.

“Hey, bud.” They tried to smile, trying so desperately not to terrify their charge. Not yet. They gestured with a hand to the bag they held, knuckles clenched so tightly as to turn a pale hue. “What’s in there?”

It felt stupid, but at the very least, their ward seemed to respond.

“Um...” Villain glanced downwards, to their burden. Their voice was almost inaudible, whimpering in form. “It’s- Spouse gave it to me. To help.”

To help.

“Can I see?”

They held it close to their chest, shivering turning to all-out shaking. Based upon the look in their eyes, if they ever lost their grip on the thing, they would simply perish.

“No.”

“Okay.” Friend sighed, biting their lower lip. There went that avenue of conversation. They supposed that making conversation with a failed attempt was somewhat of a lost cause in the first place. They needed to stay calm, not necessarily entertained. “Well... How about I show you to your room?”

“M-My room?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Villain dipped their head. It was a display of respect, even as fear made them defy everything, up until the very concept of staying still. Gently, their caretaker reached forward, hand looping about their wrist with an ever so ghostly touch. They shivered, but abided.

“Let’s go then, okay?”

“Okay.”

They had set up the room quite some time ago, as soon as they had gotten Civilian’s call. As soon as they learned what they needed to do, to keep the world ticking over as it was supposed to be. The guidelines had been as simple as they were detailed, leaving nothing to chance, to whim.

Moving to the hall and creeping open the proper door, Friend found themself nodding to themself in satisfaction. They’d checked so many times, verified it all, but knowing that it was still arranged properly was an awfully grand relief.

Dim and cozy, Civilian had said. “They don’t like windows, be sure to cover them. They’re used to the kennel. Anything too big will scare them. Give them a bed, but know that they’re going to end up sleeping under it, assuming they don’t wind up in the corner. Other than the bed, the room should be empty. They can’t read, and they’re afraid of books. That includes any signage or decorations. Think of it like a kennel-- anything unnecessary is an unnecessary risk.”

And, it was so that friend had designed their ward’s living space. A small thing, perhaps ten feet by fifteen, with grey-painted walls and a bed with beige comforter. The singular window was covered in its entirety with an off-white curtain, allowing only enough light to seep through as to allow the room to not be entirely dark. And, that was it. Just like a kennel.

“Do you want to hang out in here for a little while?”

The question seemed to bring Villain quite an extreme relief, as they nodded frantically. They crossed the threshold into the space, nearly disappearing within the dim shroud.

Friend almost left, before remembering a piece of their instruction that Civilian had insisted on being terribly vital: The cuffs.

“Do you want your mitts on, buddy?”

A nod. And so it was done.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“They’re pretty good about eating, nowadays. They can eat the same food as the rest of us. My partner says they like chili, and things that look more like what they’re used to eating. But, more or less, it’s fine, so long as they eat.”

Civilian’s instructions regarding their ward’s mealtimes had been far less specific than those for their habitat. Anything that normal people ate, but specifically chili. It was certainly an odd favorite food to have, given what their diet had once been, but it was something.

Thus, with a quick mix, Friend’s kitchen had quite quickly been filled with an overwhelming aroma-- beans and spices, seasoned meat and the mixings to go along with it. Villain was still scared, even a slightly above average monkey would have been able to see that.

The whole quest, the whole effort, was a farce. They knew that. But, at the very least, perhaps they could make their charge somewhat less frightened for the time which they had them. It would be better to see them smiling, after all, instead of screaming. They’d spent too much time, listening to Villain screaming. It really did get grating, after a while.

When the hot dish upon their oven as last appeared to be finished, they picked it up by the pot’s handle, swirling it around for a moment before reaching a point of satisfaction. A few moments of pouring, and two bowls were equally filled with heaping helpings of meat and beans.

Eating the same thing as a failed attempted. That was a thought.

Friend placed the dishes upon their dining table, on opposite ends, and finished the assortment with a small variety of other offerings-- baby carrots for vegetables, and dinner rolls to nibble upon. The kitchen filled with scents and steam, they turned.

Villain was still in their room, they assumed. Civilian had mentioned that they were quite reclusive, which made sense. They would have plenty to entertain themself.

With jostling steps, they made their way up the stairs, feeling as the aroma of herbs practically followed them up. The room in which their ward was housed was just at the top of the staircase.

The room that-

The room that’s door was opened.

With a raised brow, Friend peered inside. Certainly, Villain was absent, nowhere to be seen. Not in the corner, not upon the bed, nor under it-- they checked. Yet, the bag had been left behind, stim toys and plushies placed neatly and piled to categories.

Perhaps they had only been looking for the bathroom? With a more cautious air about them, they moved forward, along the hall. The corridor existed in an L shape, its shorter side at the top of the stairs, and its longer side around a sharp bend.

The bathroom stood at the end of the hallway’s shorter piece. The empty bathroom.

A bated breath.

Friend turned the corner.

Civilian certainly hadn’t warned them about this.

The longer end of the L-shape was definitively emptier than the other, edges lined not with doors, but with sparse decorations, bookshelves and meaningless paintings. It was all a vessel, a vehicle, for the door at the end.

The door before which Villain stood. There was an odd stiffness to their legs, their whole body. Not a muscle of them moved, not even their eyes, so it seemed as they stared. Stared at nothing.

A closed door, from which creeped the barest scent of antiseptic.

Villain most certainly was not allowed in Friend’s lab.

#villain whumpee #whump #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #civilian caretaker

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shihalyfie · 4 years ago

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"Canon” and “not canon” in the Adventure/02 universe

This is something I want to talk about, because it has a certain degree of relevance to the question of what I choose to take into account in my analyses and what I don’t. I write a lot about Adventure and 02 because both series are ridiculously consistent over their 104-episode runtime, but there are times when things contradict or don’t quite track together, and I have to figure out how to best rationalize them -- which means I need to make arbitrary decisions on what to count and not count, and when one does make those kinds of decisions, you’re very liable to get the complaint: “but that’s not canon!”

Which always makes me think: who decided that? And in the end, this is something that I think extends beyond just Digimon; every fanbase for everything always wants to believe there’s a clear-cut answer to things that everyone’s supposed to follow in a canonical timeline, and things that fall outside it. And sometimes, for some franchises, that is doable, because official staff will actually say outright that “this counts, and this doesn’t.” But that’s not how Toei and Bandai work, and their modus operandi has always been to toss a bunch of often-contradictory stuff at everyone and go “figure it out yourself,” and I think at some point the fanbase really needs to acknowledge that this so-called clear-cut boundary of “canon” and “not canon” doesn’t actually exist at all. Or in other words, any assertion of something being “canon” or “not canon” in the Adventure and 02 universe is purely something arbitrarily defined by fans, and was never determined by official - which, conversely, has actually encouraged you to take as much as you want and figure out the rest yourself.

Before we begin, I do want to make clear that this is not about one’s personal canon based on one’s own preferences -- that is to say, if you’re going “I don’t consider this canon because I don’t like this/don’t want to work with this,” then that’s entirely your right, especially if you’re doing creative work and need to decide what to apply and to not to apply. (Although, as always, one must be conscientious and respectful of those who do like it and consider it canon, because everyone’s going to differ on this.) What I am talking about is when people take a substantial part of the franchise that they otherwise like, such as a movie or drama CD, see one detail that’s contradictory in terms of the timeline or lore, and take that as evidence of “yep, the entire thing’s not canon. We’ll just throw the entire thing out, then.” It just makes me think -- you threw out a perfectly good work for that?! That’s such a waste!

First of all, Toei and Bandai don’t work that way

In general, a lot of the contradictions in the series have a “right hand is not talking to left hand” problem, because as much as we would like to believe that a Digimon series is written by a single consistent entity, the franchise itself is a huge trade-off between Toei and Bandai, and a lot of things from Bandai -- spinoffs, crossover material, games, what have you -- don’t exactly have a stellar track record of being vetted by Toei anime staff. It’s pretty well-known that game portrayals of certain characters can be really off or have misleading info, and even V-Tamer’s somewhat guilty of it. So this is going to happen no matter whether you like it or not, and it happens with any long-running kids’ series that involves a collaboration between multiple companies like this.

Moreover, the traditional custom for Toei “side movies” (in this case, meaning things like the original movie, Our War Game!, Hurricane Touchdown, and Diablomon Strikes Back) is that they’re produced with minimal involvement from the original series’s core staff -- at most, the producer is lightly involved -- and are sometimes even worked on simultaneously with the start of the original series, so you often end up with a movie that’s impossible to fit anywhere in the series timeline because there wasn’t any communication with the two sides. And for that, it’s all too easy to dismiss those movies as “non-canon”, with the fanbase arbitrarily deciding that canon ones are canon because they fit -- but Toei itself has never taken this stance.

The other thing is that, given that Adventure/02 is famous for its ridiculous level of worldbuilding consistency thanks to its director Kakudou’s conscientious efforts on it, it means that as a result, anything not made by him was prone to running afoul on it, and it’s not like the stance back then was to just reject all of it wholesale. “Doesn’t comply with the lore” is so often equated with “not canon”, but Kakudou, the author of that lore, not only made no indication of invalidating or disliking those non-compliant things, but also conversely made an active effort to make those things relevant in spite of that! (See: Our War Game! below.) The official stance is to not deny those works for being noncompliant -- it’s just that Kakudou seems to be the detail-oriented kind of person who personally prefers to work with things that have a high level of consistency (he’s very quick to say “I wasn’t involved on that” whenever someone brings up something from said external materials, not in any condescending way, just “I wasn’t involved, so don’t attribute that to me”). In fact, one of the reasons there wasn’t initially a third Adventure series was that he had difficulty finding a way to adhere to the higher-ups’ pressure to keep all of these contradictions consistent -- so the official stance itself is to try and maintain all of those side works, and that it would be better to end the series itself than to have to do something like deny them.

Which makes things very frustrating for the fans, of course, but nevertheless, that’s how it is -- even back in 2000, the right-hand-not-talking-to-left-hand phenomenon was this significant! And it would have been easy for official to step in and go “okay, we’ll put a statement out here that these don’t apply,” but no, the stance was be that it would be better to stop dragging it out longer and cancel a whole series than to deny those works, which leads us to the current situation. (Plus, think how insulting it would feel from a PR perspective if someone got attached to one of those “non-canon” materials only for official to come out and outright say “yeah this doesn’t count anymore”; we can name examples of this happening in other franchises that have understandably gotten a lot of people upset, and it would be especially offensive to do this right after said material had been released.)

Bolstering the concept of official staff’s very loose opinion of “canon” are the Adventure novels, which were supervised by Kakudou himself and written by Digimon episode screenwriter Masaki Hiro, and are non-compliant with Adventure timeline by design, because it’d be bad for the format to try and depict every single detail in the anime in the form of three novels. Several events are condensed or shuffled out of order, or even sometimes completely different (Koushirou’s incident with Vadermon goes very differently from the anime version). Despite that, this is said directly to be intended as a series of novels to help people understand Adventure and 02 better, and several details in Two-and-a-Half Year Break and Spring 2003 are incredibly consistent with it (namely in the sense of details meant to retroactively connect Adventure to 02, and other background details like Daisuke’s backstory). So you are supposed to do some kind of mental leap where you don’t take the contradictions around the actual events too seriously, but still accept the spirit and the background information you learn from it and retroactively apply it to Adventure and 02 -- and, presumably, that’s probably what you’re expected to do with everything else, too.

And this isn’t even getting into the fact that the anime itself has occasional contradictions and errors due to things like animator error or simply different writers writing different episodes -- the Adventure and 02 staff were certainly very detail-oriented, but they are human and of course inevitably slipped up here and there. How seriously do you take honorifics shifting from episode to episode in ways that don’t seem intentional, or the fact every background material refers to Osamu and Ken having a bunk bed and yet the actual episode with both of them fails to depict it? How do you deal with the fact that the Animation Chronicle is one of the most extensively useful post-02 reference materials with tons of production background info not revealed in the anime, and yet is infamously full of suspected typos that would cause some pretty massive implications if true, or all of those other Bandai and Shueisha-commissioned “side books” and other pieces of media meant to entertain the kids while the series was airing but clearly had no input from Toei staff whatsoever?

In the end, frustrating as it is, the answer seems to be the same as ever: figure it out yourself.

The standards for what’s “canon” and “not canon” are way too arbitrary

Let’s look at a handful of things that have been historically dismissed as “non-canon” by the fanbase:

The Adventure mini dramas and Armor Evolution to the Unknown: Drama CDs that were generally dismissed as non-canon because they’re “too crack” to be canon (their writing style is of the “it’s okay to push the boundaries of characterization for the sake of comedy” sort, and it wouldn’t be until later when we finally got some more serious drama CDs). The latter is full of honorific inconsistencies, most prominently Daisuke and Ken still being on surname basis at a time they’re not supposed to be (due to the fact that it was released while the series was still being produced). But official word is that you’re still supposed to consider them canon -- and yes, that’s Kakudou himself giving official sanction to a drama CD that involved a massive amount of fourth wall breaking and a completely unexplained reunion between the Adventure kids and their Digimon sometime between 1999 and 2002 (apparently this wasn’t the only one, either). How is this supposed to work? Figure it out yourself.

Hurricane Touchdown: The funny part is that up until Kizuna validated Wallace’s existence, there was no actual consistent agreement on why this movie shouldn’t be canon (the Western side being “evolutionary form timeline violations”, the Japanese side being Wallace’s status as a Chosen Child prior to 1995), which really goes to show you how arbitrary all of this is. It also has a sequel drama CD in the form of The Door to Summer, which is also contradictory with Hurricane Touchdown’s ending, so we’ve got two layers of “it can’t be canon because...” -- and yet it has a lot of interesting Daisuke characterization, and, heck, the whole character of Wallace himself, that would all be rejected if you throw this out wholesale. Then Kizuna came along, and there’s a general sense of hesitation against easily denying officially-sanctioned “main” entries like that, which retroactively forced people to somehow skip past all that and accept it, just for the sake of Kizuna’s notability.

Diablomon Strikes Back: Similar to the above, it used to be constantly dismissed as “a non-canon fun movie” because of the evolutionary forms that appear in it, despite the fact that 02 itself established that it wasn’t that hard to restore evolutionary forms if you figured something out. Somehow, a ton of people treated it as such an impossibility that “they figured it out in the first three months of 2003″ would be a viable explanation, and yet official word is that of the second through fourth movies, this is the one that had the most amount of initial consultation with the TV anime staff! And then tri. and Kizuna came along and clearly had high-level evolutions in play too, and dismissing DSB on these grounds meant dismissing those by proxy, and a lot of people were too intimidated to do that and decided to retroactively validate DSB instead, after years of having dismissed it for this reason. Again: look how arbitrary this all is.

The tri. stage play: Mainly because its timeline of events doesn’t fit tri. at all (in regards to the reboot and part 5). This is a fair assessment to make in light of the fact that it doesn’t seem to work very hard to be compliant with the very series it’s branded with, but, funnily enough, it’s actually more lore-compliant with the original Adventure and 02 than the tri. anime series is, and yet the few minor contradictions it makes with the tri. anime series are sufficient to consider it completely kicked out of canon, yet those same people who declare it so aren’t as willing to hold the anime to that same standard just because it holds a more prominent “main” position.

On the other hand, let’s look at some of the things that have been more likely to be accepted than the above:

Our War Game!: Reading this is probably going to make everyone go “whaaaaaat?”, but yep: according to Kakudou, the second through fourth movies were all made without his supervision or involvement and thus have lore contradictions (although he also made sure to say that they’re very fine movies, too). We still haven’t figured out what the lore contradiction is, and so the fanbase considers it canon, and even 02 itself makes multiple references to “the Diablomon incident” in 2000, so you can’t consider this non-canon in the slightest...but yes, according to the official side, it’s actually got a contradictory incursion somewhere in there. There is one hypothesis as to what it is, and it’s such a minor thing that no fan or even official member of staff would dare deny the movie for it, but it still contributes to how arbitrary this entire concept is: Kakudou didn’t want to give anyone (except Miyako, who’s based off a real person) canonical birthdays or blood types for the sake of preventing horoscoping, but Sora’s birthday is portrayed as being around March in the movie. And yes, Kakudou himself refers to this as being something that only happened because he wasn’t involved. (Remember what I said about him historically being quick to disclaim involvement on anything he wasn’t involved on, regardless of how much of a minor detail it is, yet doesn’t necessarily intend to deny the work entirely due to it?)

Tag Tamers: A very vital part of Ken’s backstory that establishes a lot of context behind the Dark Seed and the elusive Akiyama Ryou, which also does not make sense with 02′s timeline and characterization at all, presumably because Bandai and Toei weren’t properly communicating on what kind of details they needed to iron out for this. But of course, all of us would like some explanation to Ken’s backstory, and we have to apply some kind of logic as to how that makes sense, and I’ve yet to see people declare Tag Tamers (or any of the other WonderSwan games) as entirely non-canon as a result.

tri.: For obvious reasons, it’s a “major entry in the franchise”, so people are generally more averse to dismissing it so easily (or, at least, for reasons that aren’t related to pure preference), but I find it rather ironic that Kizuna’s the one that got all the attention for apparently being lore non-compliant, when the exact same lore points mentioned in Kakudou’s reasoning as to why it’s non-compliant (along with a ton of things that actually were in Adventure and 02′s text) are gone against even more regularly and prominently in tri., whereas Kizuna still goes out of its way to adhere to most of these and only seems to have incurred a contradiction in terms of originally intended ideology, and, possibly, its extensive use of the aforementioned movies. (Recall that this got brought up for Kizuna specifically because Kakudou was initially consulted for it; he wasn’t involved in tri. to begin with at all.) See above on how people’s unwillingness to write this one off so easily despite everything ended up retroactively dragging DSB into “accepted canon” territory; that’s how arbitrary this entire thing is.

Then, tied to all of this and making it even more confusing is Kizuna, which, again, putting all issues of personal preference aside, is basically being torn back and forth between all of these whenever you try to apply one of the above arbitrary standards. It’s allegedly lore-noncompliant with Kakudou’s lore and thus lacks his involvement, but it does have the involvement of original series producer Seki Hiromi who was known to be responsible for the series’s original human drama themes (including the premise of 02 itself) and personally vetted the scripts so that everyone could be properly in-character and the original themes still intact; it’s supposedly a “main” entry to the point where people will stop denying older works’ canonicity because of it (see Hurricane Touchdown above), but, legally speaking, is actually classified in the same “gekijouban” category that the first four movies and things like the Tamers through Savers movies are; the staff will say to hell and back that the 02 epilogue still holds (and the movie makes abundant retroactive references in both worldbuilding and themes to it), but many people out there will still insist that the movie ending that way means that (like with DSB above) “they figured it out” between the movie’s ending and the epilogue is apparently some kind of impossibility, and either the movie is non-canon or the 02 epilogue is invalidated now. (My personal stance on this is that the epilogue itself provides the answer to how they figure it out if you look closely at the movie’s themes, but that’s a tangent.)

The point I’m trying to make is that regardless of whatever stance you take on all of the above points, this is all extremely arbitrary, and these fanbase rationalizations on why this and that isn’t canon are constantly contradicting each other, shifting, and occasionally based on really meaningless things. And, again, it’s fine if you’re saying that you don’t consider this or that canon because you personally dislike it or where it went, or you find it difficult to work with, or between two contradictory things you prefer one or the other (I certainly have my fair share of strong opinions in this regard) -- but it would be better if we all admitted this and went “I just don’t consider this canon” instead of acting like there were ever some universal consensus or official backing.

"It didn’t happen this exact way, but something resembling it still happened”

So, we’re in this uncomfortable situation where we’ve been handed a ball of knots and have to work with it (a very frustrating situation especially for fanfic writers), and I have to personally say that I think all of this comes from people having far too inflexible of a concept of “canon” and “not canon”, especially to the point of rejecting a full-on perfectly fine entry just because of one timeline issue. I honestly think it’d be better if we could rather take a certain stance close to the Pixiv dictionary wiki’s view of how Wallace can appear in Kizuna: “(some version of) Wallace exists in the timeline of the main story.”

Right, so: Hurricane Touchdown is contradictory. The evolutions don’t work at that point in timeline, and Wallace shouldn’t be able to be a Chosen Child from before 1995. Those things don’t work with Adventure and 02′s timeline and lore. However, let’s look at the following story: let’s say that, between 02 episodes 14 and 15 (when the movie first screened), while school was on break, Daisuke and his friends went on a summer adventure to the US and met a boy named Wallace, who had a struggle regarding one of his partners losing his sanity, and bonded with him and helped put his partner to rest. No part of this contradicts 02 at all. There we go! So we can safely say that some story that mostly resembled Hurricane Touchdown happened in the canon timeline. Some of its details weren’t exactly the way they happened in “the movie we, as the audience, saw” -- but something that substantially resembled the movie still happened in the universe of Daisuke and his friends. And you can apply that same logic to Tag Tamers, or any other vital canonical but ostensibly contradictory material -- the media that we as the audience got may not accurately reflect the events in universe, but there’s absolutely nothing saying that some more timeline and lore-consistent alternate version didn’t happen in canon instead.

Moreover, even Adventure/02 itself gives you a bit of precedent for this concept -- namely, the fact that the final episode of 02 reveals that the entirety of Adventure and 02 is part of Takeru’s novels. It’s a pretty common theory that there might be differences in the way “the story we got” was presented, versus how they actually happened in the world Takeru lived in -- of course, Takeru certainly went out of his way to remove as much bias from the situation as he could, but you can hardly say that he, as a human, would be completely free from it, and he himself even admits that everyone he consulted had differing opinions on the events in question. And not every single piece of Digimon media has the Hirata-Hiroaki-as-Takeru narrator, which means that perhaps it’s not entirely out of the question that the different takes on the stories that the Tokyo Chosen Children went through in their youth would not be entirely consistent with each other, depending on who’s telling it. But that doesn’t mean that those events necessarily didn’t happen at all, just that some of the details were different from what we as the audience saw.

In the end, I leave the rest to everyone else to figure out -- as I said, I think this is a decision everyone will have to make for themselves, whether they’re a fanfic writer picking and choosing what to include for the sake of a coherent fic, or whether they’re just expressing a preference to not have to think too hard about or work with something they’re turned off by. (And in the case that there is someone who expresses their dislike of working with something and doesn’t want to consider it canon, I think it’s very rude to give them grief for that, and conversely, if you don’t want to consider something canon but encounter someone who doesn’t have as much of a problem with it, it’s very rude to try and expect them to change their opinion to yours.) But I do think it would do well for all of us to have a bit more of an open mind and a creative attitude towards these kinds of things before trying to shove everything into a “fully canon” and “fully not canon” binary.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #shihameta #kizuna spoilers

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years ago

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lion primary (bird model) + slightly burnt lion secondary

Hi there! I’m a fan of your sorting posts, and of your kind and insightful way of supporting people in finding out more about themselves. So naturally I’d be very interested in your take about my own sorting, if you’re game! :)

I won’t talk much about my Secondary, because now that I’m starting to unburn my Lion seems very clear to me, even when my explosion-prone Badger model still tries to get in the way of that clarity sometimes. The more interesting riddle is my Primary. So far I’m operating under the working theory that I am a Lion with a very strong Bird model - or is it the other way ‘round?

The supposed dichotomy between “thinking” and “feeling” in many of the more binary personality models has always bugged me, so it’s no wonder this is the area where whenever I feel like I’ve decided on who I am (for now) a new question mark pops up (so much fun!).

If ‘thinking’ and ‘feeling’ doesn’t work for you as terminology, it might help to think of Lion as leading with subconscious reasoning, and Bird as leading with conscious reasoning.

Instead of trying to formulate a cohesive text, which would have gotten even longer, I’m putting together an associative list of thoughts and stories that kept turning up while I was trying to figure out my Primary.

A very Lion primary way to solve a problem, not gonna lie ;)

- I think I got my Bird model from my father, who made quite an effort to teach me to look at things from all angles. As a child, whenever I got in a fight with this friend I had, he would sit me down and ask me to put myself in my friend’s shoes. It was hard, because a lot of the time my friend was being unfair to me and I actually could have used some support, someone to tell me that it was not okay to treat me this way. But I’m still immeasurably grateful for my father’s lessons, through which I’ve learned to understand peoples’ motivations and gained an understanding for the complexities of every conflict. He also taught me to doubt, to look closer, to not just believe the first thing I see, or want to see. To this day I still consider my ability to pin down the relevant factors of a situation before I make judgments one of my strengths.

That definitely sounds like a very strong, beloved Bird model.

- Whenever I had to write an essay at school or uni, I first had to come up with some aspect about the subject that I really cared about, even could be passionate about. (I am passionate about many things, so it was usually possible to find some connection to that.) Then I would use the essay to discuss this aspect in great detail, ending with a polemic flourish. I had the time of my life doing that; meanwhile the text would structure itself magically in relation to the issue I had chosen to focus on. Whenever I tried to write without such a focus, I’d get bored, stressed and the text would be of a much lower quality.

- Something similar happened in oral exams at uni: Only when I got the opportunity to bring a discussion paper (a few pointed statements regarding the exam topic) which I could then debate, I was able to recollect all the important details I needed for that. If I just had to report on the topic or answer questions, I often got confused, to the point of drawing a complete blank.

Linking things to emotion and passion - thinking with emotion and passion, basically - is a Lion primary thing. Especially if doing that makes you feel safe & comfortable & effective & happy.

- Even as a teenager I was very interested in philosophy, ethics and moral decision making.

I love teaching philosophy to teenagers. It’s the perfect time for it, they are so into it, and if it were up to me I would absolutely make it a required class.

I picked up certain philosophical ideas and concepts that I liked and integrated them in my belief system (yes, I know how very Bird that sounds).

I had my mind blown by Genealogy of Morals in high school, and I still won’t shut about Eichmann in Jerusalem. But what was so staggering to me in high school was… here are these ways of thinking that are possible and allowed. The fact that here they are in words in front of me made me a great deal more expansive.

Now that I think about it — I don’t remember adjusting my beliefs as in any way traumatic back then. The shift from a belief in the Christian God to Mother Goddess to my very own brand of agnostic paganism was smooth, natural.

Now that I think about it… I would describe myself as a mythic relativist (which is a term I just made up.) Systems of belief are metaphors, and they’re metaphors trying to describe and say something large and beautiful about what it means to be human, and what it means to live a good life. And since we are all human, they are all attempting to describe the same central, indescribable thing in different ways.

I feel this very deeply, but it took me a long while to be able to articulate it.

I constantly reevaluate, and I adapt.

You stop reevaluating and adapting, might as well be dead.

Still, there are some basics I’ve kept with me that just make too much sense to me to give up, and some that perhaps I keep because I just really like them and I’m kind of attached to them.

… somebody’s thinking with Pathos :)

- I’m a constructivist at heart, so that makes it much easier to tweak the content of my beliefs while staying true to the principle that we (socially) construct our reality, and (my take on this): that I choose what kind of world I want to live in, and according to that I make choices which are the most likely to create that world.

- At uni I attended a seminar about the development of moral judgment and action. What I remember most clearly about it is how much it bugged me that the other students didn’t seem to understand that morality always depends on the perspective. Even though I had definite moral convictions that I was ready to fight for, at the same time it seemed obvious to me that theoretically there could be a justification for every kind of moral guideline; it depended on your principles and the world you wanted to live in.

A human after my own heart.

I wanted to understand these different perspectives, not talk about empty categories like “right and wrong” or “good and evil” that meant nothing to me. I still feel that way.

Absolutely. I don’t use alignments when I DM Dungeons & Dragons. I mean, I can list evil *things* but that’s not the same thing as defining *being evil.* I want to know WHY these people did these evil things.

It just seems so impractical and complicated to base a conversation on those broad categories that don’t have any definition people can agree on instead of referring either to defined principles (in order to explain what good/ bad is *for you*) or consequences of certain actions, and whether you want them/ accept them/ don’t want them.

Oh that’s a fun discussion. Asking a highschooler to define “evil.”

(and then they have to figure out what moral systems Jigsaw, Pinhead, the Joker, and Bane all subscribe to.)

- Between “the Revolutionary” and “the Grail Knight”, I would love to be the former, but I’m clearly the latter. I’m someone who questions, not someone who knows.

Take my archetypes with a grain of salt, they are supposed to describe characters. (Who are different from people - but still useful, because they are attempts to describe us.) I actually want to write more about the differences I see between the way fictional secondaries are written and the way real-life secondaries work.

And just “knowing”... is dangerous. That’s how Exploded Lions happen.

There are a lot of causes I find worthy to fight for, but I haven’t committed to any one, which so far I’ve attributed to my Burned Secondary (How do I do things?).

Sounds about right.

If I’m honest, though, it feels a bit strange to really, really fight for anything. I’d rather contribute to the cause by keeping an eye on whether we stay aligned to our values on every level of the fight, not by storming sightlessly in front of some army. (I got polemic again, didn’t I? ;))

So after all this Bird talk, why do I think that I’m a Lion?

… that was the Bird segment?

- I trust my intuition. It has never steered me wrong, with one exception: My Primary burned for a time when I first understood the concept of privilege and internalized bias, which was coincidentally at a time when I also went through a lot of changes in my personal life. Like many people unaware of their own privilege, I had thought of myself as “one of the good ones”. I learned that even with the best intentions I could cause great harm without even noticing it. This then also happened to me in a relationship, when I was already confused, hurt and more than a bit burned. It seemed like I couldn’t trust my intuition anymore, but I also couldn’t figure out intellectually what to believe, because I felt mentally overwhelmed by all those new concepts, all of which put my previous convictions into question. Which Primary burned then?

Been there, done that, it’s brutal. It sounds to me like a Lion dramatically changing direction - that’s what I mean when I say that it *hurts* when a Lion changes their mind. Birds see their past selves that thought wrong as almost different people. “I wasn’t aware of my privilege then, now I am, and can take steps doing forward.” But if you’re a lion it’s like… I *should* have been aware, and the fact that I wasn’t says something terrible about my moral/emotional calibration, and THAT has to be put right.

- I felt like everything I had learned about the world and myself didn’t count anymore. My concepts and my strategies didn’t serve me anymore. So I started to rebuild everything from scratch, this time with less pride and more practicality.

Yeah. That’s some Lion recalibration. With a Bird Model, to help.

- Anyway, I trust my intuition. It contains my experiences, instinct and all my accumulated unconscious observations of the situation, and it’s very reliable. Usually I use it as an important source of information which I try to back up with data/ understanding, but when push came to shove and the apparent facts would contradict what my intuition told me, I would be unable to set my gut feeling aside. I wouldn’t follow it blindly, of course. But I would never just go against it either. If the voices of my unconscious and conscious mind don’t align, I keep poking at the issue until they do. If I absolutely cannot come to a satisfying conclusion, I go with my gut. Since I know it usually knows what it’s doing, I’ll find out the reasons for my feelings later. (Weird, says my inner bird who is busy compiling these examples.)

I’LL FIND THE REASON FOR MY FEELINGS LATER. What a perfect way of articulating what is perhaps the central experience of being a Lion primary.

- Probably I’m just both, you know. Some interesting lion/bird-chimaera. I like it.

I read you as a pretty clear Lion Primary, Bird primary model. But as always, the decision is very personal.

- I have a weird way of processing information: I read/ hear it, work to understand it, work to connect it to existing knowledge in my mind, then my beliefs, my existing knowledge and my feelings about it all wind around each other, grow into each other, some dissolve together, becoming a swamp which then nourishes the plants of new ideas and connections that grow from it.

You grok it. And that’s not weird.

I often can’t remember where certain knowledge came from. I can’t take it out of a memory shelf and tell you about it. I usually remember that I’ve read a certain book and whether I liked it / it influenced me, but I won’t exactly remember what was in it, even if it was important to me. Because all that information is already processed/ digested/ transformed into something new. It’s much easier to access my memory swamp intuitively than consciously.

and you seriously had like… any doubt that you were a Lion.

In intellectual discussions I tend to get stuck because I just can’t remember enough of the details (for my satisfaction), just my conclusions about the topic and how I feel about it.

I’m inclined to think that not accessing the details is either a secondary thing, or an entirely unrelated processing thing.

What do you make of all this? I’m very curious!

[On an unrelated note, I’d like to specify the compliment I made at the beginning of this post. I’m really impressed with your ability to pick up on what people need, not just what they say they want. As a counselor this is a skill I try to hone, so I know how difficult it is to not get too distracted by the story people tell and miss the more subtle cues. You have a powerful combination of perceptiveness, insight and so much kindness, which you use to effectively support people who have questions, are in distress or confused. You don’t generalize. You don’t judge. You see the people who talk to you. I love that you’re a teacher, because I can see you’re using the influence that gives you in a way that contributes to making the world a better place. Fellow Idealist, I’d like to give you a High Five for that, if I may. :)))]

I’m not sure I’ve ever been given a better compliment. Thank you.

#submission #sortinghatchats #lion primary #lionpri #bird primary vs lion primary #philosophy stuff

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inb4belphienaps · 4 years ago

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serein

warnings: dialogue and musings, lots of introspection idk word count: 1132

“Why won’t you kiss me like you do in your dreams?”, he asks.

I stare at him then, trying to turn the words over in my head before looking away. My gaze instead lingers on the wall, on the patterns and textures of the paint, and how dull they appear.

“What do you mean?”

The question itself is meaningless. Just a way to keep the conversation going so that the air isn’t stilted.

“You haven’t kissed me once in person.”

He takes my hand in his and brings it to his face, splaying my palm against his cheek. When he speaks again I feel his voice reverberate in my very bones. He sounds sad. And curious too, as if the solution was only a whisper away.

“Truthfully?”

I caress him, tracing his jaw and I watch his eyes close as he nods.

“I’m afraid.”

Those eyes open once more, and I gaze down at him. They glow with reverence in the darkness of the night, illuminating his features that much more. Those colors paint the scene and meet me with intrigue. Pure violet and magenta, electric purple and something tinted in fuscia. Gorgeous. They blended so wonderfully into one another, so completely that it was hard to tell which color predominated.

“What are you afraid of?”

His voice is soft, uncannily calm and steady. Perhaps it merely seemed that way because I was anticipating his reaction. Still, it gives me comfort – to hear that familiar tone and to see him evidently unreserved. And by doing so, he becomes the antithesis to how I feel in this moment.

“Of me?”

I shake my head as he continues to hold my gaze, getting lost in the warmth and softness of his skin, how it feels underneath my fingertips.

“Humans are funny creatures. We’re easily overwhelmed by our emotions.”

He remains quiet, opting to kiss the tip of my thumb. Even that sends a shiver through me. I can picture myself walking along the ledge of a tall building with the way my heart is racing. One wrong step and it would all be over.

“I’m afraid that if I kiss you, I’ll continue to fall deeper and harder for you.”

He smiles, and his teeth shine in the low light. Suddenly, I can’t find the strength to look away.

“Is that it? Is that why you’ve been trying to avoid me?”

“That’s the gist of it, I think…”

I feel him press his lips against the inside of my wrist and memories of times we’d shared through our dreams come filtering into my peripheral like droplets of rain. Things I’d done. Things I’d said. My self-control hangs by a thread, and like a cat with a toy dangling in front of it, he tosses it around.

There’s a thin sheet of glass separating the two of us, so thin in fact that I can almost touch him.

“What else is there?”

“You tempt me.”

His grin widens, and I feel the familiar flutter of butterflies in my stomach. His presence pulls me. It turns me into a puppet whose only purpose is to be strung along and made to dance.

“Far too often and without a second thought. I don’t think you realize just how much of an effect you have on me.”

“What do you expect? I am a demon after all.”

“But you’re not always using your powers, are you?”

There’s a pause, a silent acknowledgement of the weight my words hold. He is beautiful. A mirage bathed in bewilderment. His scent intoxicating. A sweet poison, invisible and lethal and irresistible. He is a creature of sin. A concept I cannot fathom and yet I know that I am a part of the problem. If I had the strength to cut off these strings, would I be able to stand on my own?

“I don’t have to”, he whispers. “Even now, I can hear your heart racing.”

I can feel it quicken the very moment he mentions this. How he knows and listens. He wraps his arms around me, resting his chin against my stomach. How every fiber of my being sets aflame with his touch.

“So you must know, where this fear stems from, I mean.”

“I can take a guess.”

He takes a deep breath and I find myself mirroring him. He’s cool to the touch, as he preferred to be to spite the nature of demons. Except…the only one melting in the other’s embrace is me.

“But I want to hear you say it.”

The heat of embarrassment creeps its way up my neck and I realize that my fear is a little unfounded. Based solely on my own preconceived notions and it all seems so silly, so trivial. This was reality.

“I’m afraid of hurting you.”

He laughs. It was expected and yet it startles me because it’s genuine. He’s amused. As if he can’t believe what he’s hearing despite my confession.

“And I’m the one with the horns.”

“What does that matter?”

I find myself becoming indignant. There were too many things to consider, weren’t there? Did he truly understand? I’d been certain before we’d had this conversation. Doubt begins to set in as I try to recall which of my thoughts he’d been privy to come nightfall. When the quiet linger of sleep would keep us tied.

“I suppose to you it doesn’t.”

“That’s true”, I murmur. “It doesn’t matter.”

He sighs. His breath tickles. I see the concern on his face, the way he debates his answer and like a ripple on the surface, the clarity that flickers across it.

“You won’t hurt me. I won’t let you.”

My hand moves on its own, stroking his hair. Soft locks that shine with an aegean hue and those tinted ends that reflect the light. Picturesque and timeless. It’s odd. How vividly in detail I can recall his features. How they seemed to have seared themselves into my mind.

“Likewise, you won’t let me hurt you. We’re the same, you and I.”

Perhaps we’d shared too much during those twilight hours. Perhaps we’d become all the more entwined by doing so, unable to distinguish our own entities as separate, as individuals.

Perhaps, we’d become one. No longer would we have to be wary of tipping the scales when we were perfectly capable of maintaining an innate balance.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

I take his hand and rest my finger on the center of his palm.

“This. This is where you have me.”

He pulls me in for a kiss. I almost hesitate. Then I feel his lips on mine – familiar and foreign, like something from a distant dream finally rooting itself in the present.

“And this is where you’ll stay.”

“Yes”, I concede. “Always.”

#okay so maybe this was a bit personal 🤪#obey me writing #obey me scenario #obey me belphegor #obey me! belphegor #belphegor x reader #belphegor x gn reader #my writing 🐇

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taleasnewastime · 4 years ago

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Flatmates | Part 1

Summary: You need to find a spare room after deciding to move out of your flat that you share with your best friend and her boyfriend. Stumbling upon an advert for a room that seems almost too good to be true, you decide for once to not over think and go for it. But who is the mystery flatmate you are now living with that you hardly see?

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: Fluff, angst.

Word count: 19.7k

Part 2

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption (though just for fun).

Authors Note: So, I wrote a thing and it turned out to be very long so I have decided to split it into 2 parts. The second part isn’t currently finished but it is not far off so hopefully won’t take me too much longer. This has taken me a while to write and it’s not perfect by any means, but I like it so whatever. It’s based off the same concept as the book “The Flat Share”. I hope you all enjoy it!

Flicking through the ads for a spare room seemed like second nature to you now. You felt like an expert on the topic. You could easily create a presentation detailing the common mistakes people made when advertising a room, how you could easily spot if something was too good to be true, and when someone was probably a hidden psychopath, just from what they’d written about their spare room. You could probably draw a map of the city and detail the average prices of a room in each area, how fast some rooms went in some areas compared to others and which areas were best to look at. Having lived in the city for two years you felt like you knew it pretty well, but as soon as you started to search for a room to rent you realised how little you actually knew about it.

When you moved to the city it was with your best friend Lily. You had rented a two bedroom flat together and the first few months were amazing, the whole two years were amazing, but after living in the city for just 3 months Lily found a boyfriend. So after he basically moved in with her, and you effectively becoming a live in third wheel, and even though you were the one to find the flat in the first place, you decided you should move out. You didn’t resent Lily for it, and it was your decision to move, but it still made you sad, the end of a chapter in your life. You would still be in the same city and would still see each other all the time but it felt like a new chapter, one where she was getting serious with a guy and where you were still single and sharing a house with someone. It’s almost as if you hadn’t left university.

Finding a spare room was easier said than done. You had asked around at work whether anyone was looking for a flatmate but everyone was either in a serious relationship or already tied into a contract with other friends. You’d even been desperate enough to ask friends of friends, putting it out on your Facebook that you were looking for someone to live with hadn’t helped, so you turned to looking for spare rooms online.

Again, this was easier said than done. But you still looked, every day and night refreshing your search in the hopes of finding the perfect room or roommate, not wanting the perfect room to slip through your fingers. You had even looked around a few places, one that was an actual dump, clothes and dirty plates laying around the flat, one that was nice but a bit small and a 40 minute commute to work and one that was almost perfect if not for the fact the other people living there were doing drugs as soon as you walked through the door.

You had even wondered whether you should just up your search to find a flat of your own, you were on a good wage, you felt like a young semi-successful business woman, why couldn’t you have your own place? Well due to extortionate rent, that’s why. So after considering getting a flat to yourself for approximately 10 minutes it was back to looking at spare rooms.

Continuing to scroll down a page listing rooms you reach the point where you had already seen all the rooms past that point. You pause and stretch your back, twisting your neck slightly to ease some tension, and reach to take a sip of your drink. You had decided to come to a coffee shop early on a Saturday to do some searching, finding you were way more productive and less likely to get distracted in the public place. And though you had been good so far, that didn’t mean you had found any results. Deciding to refresh the page one more time before giving up for a bit, you set down your cup.

Scrolling to the top of the page you click refresh and watch as the pictures disappear for a second before popping back. You are shocked to see a new ad, one that wasn’t there a second ago. From the small icon it looked good, the description detailing a rough location and a price that seemed almost too good to be true. Clicking it to expand the details and see more pictures you were shocked at what you were seeing. A spare room in a flat that was probably double the size of where you currently lived, in one of the most sought-after areas in the city, and the price of the room wasn’t through the roof. You read through the details looking for some sort of catch but couldn’t see anything, just a number at the bottom of the page saying to call with queries or interest.

Instinctively you pick up your phone and type in the number given. This was so unlike you, normally someone to not make a quick decision, to mull over everything before acting, but even you could see that this could be something too good to miss. You were willing to risk looking into it more given how long you’d been looking, even if it was just to find out they’d accidentally missed a zero off the end of the rent price. It took 5 rings before someone answered the phone.

“Hello,” a female voice sounded out.

“Hi I’m Y/N, I’m calling regarding the ad that has been placed on spareroom.com,” you put on your most formal, chipper voice.

“Oh, that was quick,” you can hear the surprise in the voice.

“Yeah, I guess I was just looking at the right time,” you say, not wanting to sound too desperate in admitting that you basically live on that site.

“Well, is there anything you wanted to ask? Any details I missed from the ad?” She asks.

“I was actually hoping I could come and have a look at the room. The pictures and description make it sound great but it would be nice to see it in person,” you reply.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll have to have a look when it’s free,” she pauses and you can hear the flicking of pages as if she is looking through a diary. “You see it’s not actually my flat, I’m just putting it up for a friend, I guess. It’s kind of complicated actually, but I can talk you through it all when we meet,” her tone and what she says worries you slightly, you knew that there had to be some sort of catch. This was definitely too good to be true. “We could actually go look this afternoon if you’re free?” She says.

“That would be great,” you say. Even though there was some doubt seeping into your mind from what she had said you decided that it was still worth going to look around. The worst that could happen is that it’s awful and whatever complicated situation she was talking about was a deal breaker and then you would continue your search. But this complicated situation might not be that bad and then you may finally have a place to live. It was worth spending some of your Saturday looking around a flat, plus you got to snoop in someone's house which was always a perk.

“OK, I’ll text you the address and a time, I’m guessing this number is ok?” She says.

“Yep, this number is perfect. I look forward to meeting you later,” you say.

“I’m Rosie by the way. Should have introduced myself earlier,” she gives out a small laugh at her words. “Anyway, just come to the address later and tell the doorman you’re meeting me and he’ll point you in the right direction. I’ll put all of this in the text, don’t worry.”

“Great, see you later,” you reply before you both hang up.

Placing the phone down on the table you go over the conversation you just had. A doorman? The place looked fancy from the pictures and you could tell by the address that it was in a good area but a doorman? Maybe this place was out of your league.

Just as you are think this a text comes through and you look at the message.

Hi Y/N, this is Rosie. It was nice speaking to you and I look forward to meeting you in person. As I said just let the doorman know you are looking for me and he will help you out.

At the end of the text she lists the address and you immediately open a new tab to look into the building. A few news stories pop up with a list of famous people who are rumoured to live in the building, a few pictures of them entering and leaving the building. Next there were a few websites that list the prices of the flats and you suck in a large amount of air, eyes widening at the price. You would never earn that sort of money in your lifetime let alone be able to spend it on a flat. Maybe Rosie was right when she said there was a complicated story behind this spare room. Why the hell was someone, that was obviously rich, listing their spare room for some stranger to live with them?

Looking down at what you were wearing and then at the clock you decide that you have enough time to rush home and change into something that could be classed as a bit nicer than your current attire. Almost slamming your laptop shut, you shove it into your open bag before downing your drink and rushing out of the café.

Your eyes pan up the side of the building, your head falling backwards on your neck so that you can see the top. It was shear glass and you imagine that the views of the city from the upper floors are beautiful. After taking in the building you look down and slowly move towards the door, continuing to question how you managed to find this place advertising a spare room. Glancing down at your phone and then at the fancy plaque by the door, you check for the tenth time that you are at the right place. Confirming the words do in fact match each other you reach for the door only for it to swing open for you, a man in a smart black suit holds the door and looks down at you. There is a small forced smile on his lips and you can see by the look in his eye that you would not want to be on the wrong side of him.

“Can I help you?” He questions, his voice just as stern as his demeanour.

“Hi,” you almost stutter the words, intimidated by the man. “I’m here for Rosie. I mean Rosie said to meet her here?” Your voice is full of the nerves that are currently swimming around your stomach and you curse yourself for not asking what Rosie’s second name was.

The small forced smile is replaced by a more genuine smile, the man's eyes softening as he looks at you. “She told me you’d be coming. Come on in,” relief washes over you as the man steps out of your way, holding the door open so you can enter the building.

Giving him a small smile as you walk past him, you step into the lobby. The ceilings are tall and light floods in through the windows. There are a few sofas scattered for people to sit, some coffee tables with magazines and books on top. A small desk is by the door, some buttons and papers scatter the desk and you assume that is where the man who had just held the door open for you sits. At the far end of the lobby there are some elevator doors and placed around the edge of the room there are large leafed plants. If this was just the entrance to the building what the hell do the flats look like, you think. This room alone was nicer than any other room you had stepped foot in in your life. The doorman steps past you and heads towards the elevator and you slowly follow him.

“You will be going to the 14th floor. When the doors open there is a small room, almost like a porch and there you will see the front door to the flat. Rosie is already up there so if you knock, she should come meet you,” he gives you the details after having pushed the button to summon the elevator and you nod at his words.

There is a small ding as the doors open revealing a small mirrored room. Looking to the man for reassurance you step in and say thanks just before the doors close, leaving you on your own. You can feel your heart thump in your chest as you push the number 14. The elevator feels like it's hardly moving as it ascends and you rub your sweaty palms on your trousers as you near your destination.

Just as the man described, when the doors open there is a small room. Again, a small sofa with some plants welcome you, just as they had in the lobby. Stepping out of the elevator you head to the door and knock hard before you can over think the situation you have found yourself in. It only takes a few seconds but each one feels like an hour before the door opens. A girl stands before you, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, a well fitted black dress on, light make-up on her face. She beams at you as soon as the door is opened and you feel her energy infectious, a smile appearing on your own face as you look at her.

“Hi, it’s Y/N right?” She says as she extends a hand for you to shake. “I’m Rosie, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you say as you shake her hand, nerves slowly dissipating as you do.

Stepping out of your way and holding the door open, much like the doorman had earlier, Rosie silently invites you into the flat. Taking a step in you slip your shoes off before looking around. The place looked exactly like the photos you had seen, if not slightly better.

“So I thought I’d give you a quick tour and then we can have a chat and go over a few points,” Rosie says and you nodded.

You silently follow her around the flat, where she shows you the kitchen, a modern open plan space with a big island in the middle where you could sit and eat. A living room with a light grey square sofa that could easily accommodate 20+ people, this faced a TV that covered nearly half the wall. Then you moved onto a hall where you walked past several doors before she opened one that held a large bed and had an attached ensuite. The whole place seemed like it was over the top, there was everything you would find in a normal flat but it seemed to be doubled in size here. Pictures and art lined every room that you went into and the decor looked like it was straight out of a high-end magazine.

Walking around you felt like you didn’t belong here, it was the most amazing place you had ever seen and you were unsure what the catch was. You would never in a million years be able to afford a place like this. When you had seen your could be room, Rosie leads you back towards the living room but carries on past the door to another room. Set up as a snug come library of sorts, it was definitely your favourite room you had seen, it felt the homeliest and the view of the city was amazing, if you really focused you could make out your office and current flat.

Rosie takes a seat on one of the armchairs and indicates for you to take one of the other seats.

“So that’s a quick look at the flat. What do you think?” She asks.

“I mean it’s beautiful. I’m kind of wondering why the rent is so low and why the spare room is being advertised in the first place,” you admit, hoping to get to the point quickly.

“Yes,” Rosie sighs and looks out the window which makes your heart pick up in slight panic. “Well like I said I don’t actually live here I’m just doing this for a friend. And as you will have also noticed the flat is empty apart from us. Basically, the person who owns the flat, my friend, he is a busy man and doesn’t actually live here that much. He often is travelling on business for long periods of time and when he is in the city he works a lot so even then he is hardly home,” she pauses to gage your reaction which is pure confusion, unsure where this is headed. “Well he doesn’t like the idea of the flat sitting empty all the time. He wants someone to move in and live here, keep it clean, use the appliances so they don’t seize up or anything.”

“So he wants a live-in house sitter. The rent is so low because I’ll be expected to do jobs around the place?” You question, slightly confused by the explanation. Was this guy making the rent so low because he was expecting the person to almost work for him in return. You already had a job, you didn’t need to be coming home to work some more. “Could he not just hire a cleaner to come here every day?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Rosie is quick to reassure you. “He just wants someone to live here. You wouldn’t be expected to do any jobs, if something broke then someone else would come and fix it just like in a normal contract. And a cleaner comes here once a week already, so you would only be expected to keep the place tidy,” she pauses again, obviously searching for the words to explain what she means. “He just wants someone to live here, to enjoy the space, to make it homely, to just appreciate the flat in the ways that he can’t.”

You remain confused. The person that lived here was obviously rich, they were obviously successful, why would they want someone to invade their space just so that the space is enjoyed. Didn’t they want to enjoy the space themselves without someone lurking around. It didn’t really make any sense to you.

“You would hardly see him,” Rosie continues seeing the unease on your face. “To be honest you may never meet him, like I said he is hardly here and when he is, he is a pretty private person.”

“That’s what's confusing me,” you admit. “I’m not going to lie, this flat is amazing and beautiful and I have never seen anything like this in my life and I don’t think I will ever be able to afford to live in a place like this. But if I could, I wouldn’t want anyone living here, even if I was hardly here, I’d want it all to myself. And the rent is so ridiculously low for a place this nice, he could be charging through the roof and still have people paying him to stay here,” you have to stop yourself from rambling, remembering that you are still being considered to live here, you didn’t want to blow your chances by saying the wrong thing or convincing them of raising the rent to a figure you couldn’t afford.

“I think that’s the thing, he doesn’t want just anyone staying here, he wants someone normal. It’s not about the money for him, like you said he has money. Listen, I can’t speak for him about his reasonings for doing this, and to be honest I tried to convince him to not do it, like you said he could get any crazy living here. But I guess that’s my job, to find the best person to live here for him,” Rosie says.

“And have I passed the checks?” You smile at her, the tension in the room lessening slightly.

“I’m not sure yet,” she laughs faintly.

“To be completely open and honest with you, I googled this place when you sent me the address,” she raises an eyebrow at your confession a small smile on her face and you can tell that she was expecting this. “It’s seems like a popular building, lots of well-known people living here. Am I allowed to know who my potential flat mate is?”

“It’s a very nice building, and like you said lots of very famous people live here, but unfortunately the person who lives here is not one of them. Just some hot-shot business man,” you can tell the speech is rehearsed and you are unsure whether to believe her, but to be honest you are secretly glad it’s not a famous person. And it made sense they weren’t, a famous didn’t need some crazed fan living in their flat.

“Suits me,” you nod at her and you can see relief wash over her face. “To be honest I’m not the sort of person that is into the whole fame thing anyway. I don’t really keep up with the latest gossip or news about what people I don’t know are doing,” you admit, and it was true. Sure you could recognise some famous people and you could pick out certain faces from a line up, but that was just because it was impossible to avoid all celeb news. You honestly had no interest in what a person you didn’t know was doing with their life.

“You don’t read TMZ and scour the internet over whether Taylor Swift has got a new boyfriend on your weekends?” Rosie says and you can hear the sarcasm in her voice.

“I didn’t know Justin Bieber was married until last weekend, and I honestly have no idea who he is married to,” you admit and you see the smile on her face widen at your confession. “But then I do know who Leonardo Dicaprio is and I know he is into environmental issues and finally won an Oscar a few years ago,” you say with a shrug giving her an insight into your level of celeb knowledge.

“But then who doesn’t know that,” she laughs at your statement. “So you may not even know if you bump into a famous person here?”

“Honestly when I saw the list of names online there was a few a recognised but not many. I’d possibly recognise their face but may not be able to place it,” you say and she hums in response her faced scrunched in thought as she looks at you. You were being honest with her and you hoped she could see that and didn’t think you were saying all of this just to secure the room.

After that the conversation moves onto some questions about you; where you work, why you are looking for a room, questions about cleanliness and general upkeep, normal questions someone would ask a potential new flatmate. When Rosie finishes her questions you both get up and head to the door, she stands at the door and watches as you call for the lift.

“Thanks for coming today,” she says.

“Thanks for letting me look around so quickly. It really is a lovely flat,” you reply.

“I’ll be in contact with you to let you know our decision either way, obviously I will have to discuss this with Hobi,” she slips up and reveals the name of the man that lives here. You try to remain passive at the name though you can see the slight panic in her eyes at her mistake, though you honestly don’t recognise the name. “And there are a few other potential people that are going to come have a look around to,” she carries on as if nothing had happened.

“Of course, I don’t expect it to be a quick decision,” you say. “Do you have any idea when I’ll hear by?”

“I’ll get back to you by the end of next week,” she says.

You nod at her and hear the ding of the elevator from behind you.

“It was nice to meet you. I look forward to hearing from you,” you smile as you back into the elevator.

“You too, Y/N,” Rosie says before the doors close.

As you stare at your reflection in the mirror heading down to the lobby you are a bit in shock. What the hell was that place and who the hell was this Hobi that owned a flat that he hardly lived in? The situation all seemed so strange, something you could never have imagined. As you head down to the lobby you imagine living here, and as amazing as it was you wonder whether it is even somewhere that you’d ever feel comfortable. You feel out of place just stood in the elevator and would probably walk around on egg shells in fear of breaking anything in the flat. It was all in Rosie and the mysterious Hobi’s hands now so there was no point even thinking about it until you heard a reply, you reason as the doors finally open to the lobby.

“So let me get this straight. Some rich ass man wants you to live in his expensive ass house where you will basically have the place to yourself and all you have to do is make sure the place is tidy?” Lily says.

“I mean, kind of yeah,” you reply.

After meeting with Rosie you had come home and after changing into some comfier clothes you had collapsed on the sofa and told Lily about your crazy day.

“When do you move in?” You can hear the excitement in Lilys voice.

“I’ve already told you, today was just me looking at the place. They need to tell me if they want me first and then I have to decide if I want to live there,” you explain for what feels like the fiftieth time.

“I’m still not understanding why you would turn down this offer. It sounds too good to be true, an amazing flat that will basically be yours for basically shit all money.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh, your brain slightly aching from all the thoughts that had been running through your head since you left the flat. “It’s too good to be true, there has to be some sort of catch.”

“And what if there isn’t? What if it is exactly how it looks? You over think everything Y/N, please just this once don’t over think it,” Lily pleads.

“I’ve not even been offered the room yet,” you say, but when you look at Lilys face you give in. “But fine. If they offer me the room, I promise I will not over think it.”

Lily squeals slightly and leans in to give you a tight hug. “I can’t wait to see this amazing flat,” she says into your ear.

You simply roll your eyes at her, unwilling to correct her statement, you may never move in.

Over the next week, however, you can’t get the flat out of your head. You continue to look at possible rooms online, as you still might need to find something, but as you scroll you never really take in anything, nothing living up to what you had already found. By the Tuesday you all but stop looking, deciding that if everything falls through and you don’t get offered the room then you could pick up your search again. A few days off wouldn’t kill you.

But your lack of searching only increases your thoughts of the flat. You remember the details of the city out of the window, it never looking quite as beautiful from where you stood on the ground. You remember the big kitchen, and curse whenever you were in your own and Lily walked in, making it feel cramped. You remember the room that could be yours, the bare walls and how you would decorate them, the big bed you could be sleeping in, the shower that would surely have amazing high pressure that wouldn’t cause the water to be just a trickle. You remember the little snug room that you spoke to Rosie in, the books and CDs that lined the walls and the different comfy chairs that all had contrasting patterns. As much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

What you also couldn’t get out of your head was this mysterious man. Though you had caught the name when it slipped out of Rosies mouth you decided to respect his privacy and did not look into the name. If he wanted to remain unknown then so be it, as Rosie said you would probably never meet him anyway so it made no difference to you. And although Lily had asked several times you only told her that you didn’t know who owned the flat and that it was just some business man, that is essentially all you knew anyway.

As the week started to draw to a close you became more and more attached to your phone. Any notification or noise that came from it sent your heart racing at the possibility of it being Rosie. Yet none of them were her. As Sunday started to draw to a close you gave up hope entirely. To be honest you had expected to hear by Friday night so the fact it had been two whole days and you still hadn’t heard anything, you had essentially given up hope.

By Monday you were slightly annoyed. After work you opened up your laptop and started to scroll through your frequented websites in search of a possible new room. You were annoyed that Rosie hadn’t even messaged you to say that they weren’t offering you the room. When you had left her she had said that she would let you know either way, yet here you were without a word.

You became slightly grumpy at home too, pushing your bad feelings onto Lily and her boyfriend Eddie. Every time you caught yourself snapping or being moody you would apologise, but Lily understood and didn’t blame you for your behaviour. You were in a complete funk by Tuesday evening, annoyed at yourself now for getting your hopes so high. You should have been realistic and realised that the flat was too good for you. That of course they would offer it to someone else. That you were right from the start, you didn’t belong in a place like that.

As you sit on your bed your phone rings, you didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering, head somewhere completely else.

“Hello,” you say. Hearing your own voice sounded weird, it came out flat and devoid of emotion, not your normal self.

“Hi, Y/N? It’s Rosie,” you perk up at the voice and have to pull the phone away from your head to check the number. Sure enough it was Rosie. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“No, no, sorry,” you stutter out, coughing slightly to make your voice sound more normal. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a call.”

“That’s my fault sorry. I said I’d let you know by last week and it’s my fault entirely that I am so late, there’s been a lot going on recently. But again my fault, no excuses,” she says.

“No, it’s OK,” you reply, feeling your bad mood drift away, only to be replaced by nerves. The anticipation of what she was about to tell you made you feel like you were back at school waiting for your exam results, were you going to pass and feel elated or fail and go back to your funk.

“So, as I assume you have guessed, it’s about the room you viewed the other week,” she explains as if you have no clue what is going on. You remain silent letting her fill it with an answer. “So I have spoken to my friend and as I said we did have some other people come and look at the flat, to be honest we had quite a bit of interest,” her words were not filling you with hope and you had to will yourself to sound positive when she lets you down. “But me and my friend both agree that you would be the perfect match and he would like to offer you the room.”

You almost drop the phone at her words. Your mouth pops open in shock, eyes go wide as you stare at the wall in front of you. No words escape your mouth and your brain fails to come up with anything to say. The line stays quiet.

“Obviously if you have found something else in the meantime, we understand. As I said it’s completely my fault for getting back to you so late,” Lily fills the silence.

“No,” you managed to say when there is another pause for you to speak. “I mean yes,” you almost shake your head in an attempt to get your brain to shift into gear. “Sorry. I mean you don’t have to apologise. And yes, I would love to accept the offer,” you are shocked at how calm your voice sounds as you feel anything but calm.

“Great, that’s amazing, Hobi will be so pleased,” she says the name this time with purpose as you will now be sharing a flat with him. “I’ll have to draw up some paper work which we can go through together, and there will be a few house rules that I should tell you, and I’m sure you will have lots of questions. Otherwise, I think everything is all set up for you to move in.”

“Great,” is the only word you can think to say as already everything seems to be moving at break neck speed.

“I’ll get everything sorted and text you about meeting up so we can go through everything,” Rosie says.

“I look forward to it. Thanks for getting back to me,” you reply.

“I promise I won’t leave it so long this time,” she laughs down the phone.

You both say your goodbyes before you hang up and drop the phone on your bed in front of you. Sitting there for a minute in silence, you stare at the wall, your mind seemingly racing but also unable to have any thoughts. After a second you leap into action, quite literally jumping off the bed. Running out of your room you start to scream Lilys name.

“What is it,” Lily burst opens her bedroom door, popping out into the living room just as violently as you had seconds ago.

“I got the room,” your voice is still loud and sounds out around the room.

“Oh, my, effing, god,” Lily stomps over to where you are stood and engulfs you in her arms. Looking over her shoulder you see Eddies head poke around the door.

“What's all the screaming about?” He says.

“She got the room,” Lily screams your earlier statement, jumping up and down with you still in her arms. You both laugh as you spin around in circles.

“What room did she get?” Eddie questions, still stood in the door way.

“THE room. I told you about this. She got the room,” Lily says, pulling away from you to look at Eddie.

“Oh right, the room,” Eddie says, and you are unsure if he is saying it just to appease the two of you. “Congrats Y/N,” he gives you a smile.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say. “Hey, shall we pop something open? To celebrate? Me moving out, you guys finally having your own place, lots to celebrate.”

“Hell yes,” Lily replies, already walking over to the fridge to get something to drink.

It had been a mere two weeks since you had the call with Rosie to say that you had the room and in that time you had packed up your belongings, signed the paper work that Rosie had set up for you and gotten the keys to your new flat, well the room within the flat.

When you had met up with Rosie she had gone over some of the things that your flatmate would be expecting from you. How he expected the flat to remain tidy, he didn’t want to come home to dirty dishes left out or dirty clothes dumped over the flat. He wanted all his things to stay where they were, you weren’t allowed to go into his room or two of the other rooms that Rosie hadn’t shown you on your tour. She gave you details of people to call in the cases of emergency, of people that would come round to the flat such as the cleaner, and let you know the doorman was called Keith and he could help with almost anything. The only number she didn’t give you was that of your new flatmates. She told you that overall Hobi had said to make yourself at home and to treat the place like it was yours. Though after all the rules she had listed you felt like you may struggle to do that.

At the end of your meeting though you signed the documents and she handed over the keys to the flat. She gave you a date that you could move in and said she would meet you there to make sure you settled in and check that you had no final questions. As you left the meeting you felt like the whole thing seemed very formal, it felt like you were buying the flat not renting a room, even when you had rented your flat with Lily you hadn’t had to jump through this many hoops. You had just over a week to pack up all your belonging and move into your new flat.

That’s where you stood now, with Lily and Eddie outside your new building, each with a couple of bags in your hands.

“I kind of thought you guys were joking when you were describing this place,” Eddie says as you all head towards the door.

“I’ve seen pictures and even I thought Y/N was joking,” Lily says.

“I’ve been here, and even I thought I was joking,” you laugh with them.

Keith, the doorman, opens the door for you as you approach and welcomes you in, obviously now informed on the fact you’d be a new resident. Thanking him you make your way to the elevator and after all cramming in with the bags you had, you head up to the flat. You excitedly pull out your new key and twist it in the lock, and sure enough the door swings open. You give a small squeal as it does, it all finally hitting you that this was real.

“This is fucking insane,” Lily says after she dumps the bags she was carrying at the door and starts wondering around the flat. “Like fucking insane,” she emphasises, opening random doors in the kitchen. “Theres actual food in here,” she says.

“It’s almost like someone else lives here,” you say in mock wonder.

“But can you just help yourself?” She asks as she continues to open every door that is within reach.

“I have no idea. Rosie is coming over at some point so I’m sure we can clear all that up,” you reply. “Anyway, stop snooping. I want to give you both a tour.”

You grab her hand and start dragging her around the flat, Eddie diligently following you both around. They are both the perfect people to show around, providing the right sound effects when needed, ooing and ahhing when you open a new door. You end the tour where you had with Rosie, in the snug and you each take a chair.

“I will never stop saying how amazing this place is,” Lily says. “Maybe I should move in and you can stay in the flat with Eddie.”

“Hey,” Eddie mocks offense. “I think I should move here and you two can go back to sharing the flat,” he jokes and you both laugh.

“The one big thing I notice is a lack of pictures,” Lily says and you nod, having noticed the same thing. There were paintings and pictures on the wall but those were art, no personal pictures, no pictures of friends or family or of the man himself. “Do you not think that’s a bit strange?” Lily questions.

“Maybe he prefers art, I know people who don’t have pictures in their houses,” you defend your new flatmate.

“Name one,” Lily challenges and when you don’t offer any answers she carries on. “Maybe they’re in those secret rooms that we’re not allowed in.”

“You mean his bedroom,” you roll your eyes at her. “I wouldn’t want him going in my room when I’m not here,” you reason.

Lily puts her arms up in defence, doing a fake surrender. “Well the place is amazing,” she moves the conversation on and you’re glad of it.

“It’s pretty sweet,” you reply.

“I will miss living with you though,” Lily says with a small pout.

“We’ll still see each other all the time though,” you reason with a smile and she gives a reassuring nod.

Lily and Eddie help you unpack your belongings in your room. You hadn’t bothered to bring any pots and pans or plates as Rosie had said all of that was communal and you were more than welcome to use it. You had also left behind some of items that would be too big to fit in your room, deciding that the flat was fully furnished anyway and the stuff you owned would look cheap. So, it didn’t take the three of you long to unpack.

As promised Rosie popped round at one point to go through a few final points with you, show you some things she had missed on the original tour and answered any questions you had.

Eddie and Lily stayed for some food, otherwise they headed home and left you alone in the flat for your first night. The place felt big, bigger than normal, when you were along in it and after clearing up the food you decided to just stay in your room, the living room feeling too intimidating for you on your own.

It had been a few weeks since you moved into the flat. The first few days you felt like you were tip toeing around, not wanting to touch anything or put anything out of place in fear of getting some sort of telling off. After a couple of days and after seeing no one in the flat you started to care less, it started off small, not putting pots and pans back perfectly, leaving a book on the side, leaving one of your blankets on the sofa. And after no one magically appeared to tell you off, you started to care less and less. Sure, you kept everything tidy and in its place as promised, but you stopped caring about everything being perfect.

Though you started finally living as if the flat was somewhere you lived and not just somewhere you slept, you did start to feel lonely. Having always lived with someone it felt weird to come home from work and the flat be empty. Weekends when people were busy were hard, having to stay in a flat that was so quiet. You enjoyed being able to speak to someone, to walk out of your room at any moment and be able to just say hi to someone, to ask a basic question, to laugh at a film together, to comment on something that had happened in your day. You had to admit it, you missed actually living with another human being.

It was late on a Tuesday night, you were tucked up in bed and just about drifting off to sleep when you heard the front door slam close. You jump up in bed and pull the covers tighter around your frame. Your sleepy mind not comprehending what was happening in the moment, you listen for further sounds to confirm your suspicions. Sure enough, someone was in your flat as you hear footsteps sound out along the hall outside your room. It take you far too long to connect the dots and realise that it was your flatmate and not some random person breaking in. Slightly embarrassed at the fact that you had completely forgotten that you don’t actually live alone, you stay sat in bed with your covers wrapped around your frame unsure what to do. Should you go out there and introduce yourself? Should you stay hidden away in your room? Would he even remember that he had a flatmate, or will it have slipped his mind just as it had yours? What if he came in here because he had forgotten too and sees you sat in bed?

As the thoughts and possible scenarios run through your mind you continue to listen to his movements. You could hear him dragging a suitcase to his room earlier, and now you hear his footsteps making their way back towards the kitchen. Seconds later you hear the distinctive noise of a plate being taken out of the cupboard and placed on the side. He must have got some food from somewhere. Finally, you hear him head towards the living room and briefly hear the TV before the volume is turned down. It’s then that you realise that of course he has remembered you live here, and unlike you he is not being weird about the situation, instead being considerate and trying not to be noisy.

Laying back down in the bed, you turn and pull your knees into your chest. The adrenaline still pumps through you from the thought of your flatmate being so close. If you were to just open your door to go and get a glass of water you might see him, might finally get to meet the man you had thought so much about. But even that simple act caused nerves to wrack through you. Him coming home this evening was so out of the blue you didn’t feel mentally prepared for a situation in which you meet him. Though you would never know his schedule, the fact you had no way of contacting the man not helping. Instead, you decide that sleep is the best option, chickening out of trying to meet him. It doesn’t come easily but eventually you do fall asleep.

The next day you wake to your alarm and as you get dressed for work you almost forget that you may not be alone in the flat. Once you open your door and head for the kitchen however it becomes blaringly obvious. Although everything is clean and put away, you can’t help but notice how things have moved. Again, you start to tip toe around the flat, quickly making and eating your breakfast before tidying away. You are unsure if the man is even still here, but if he was you didn’t want to do anything to disturb him. Being ready for work in record time you leave.

By Thursday night and after having heard the late-night entrance of your flatmate for two consecutive nights you decide to leave him a note. You had made too much pasta for tea, which was a common occurrence, but rather than Tupperware the excess up and store it for a future meal, you decide to plate it. It was a spur of the moment decision and as you look at the two plates in front of you, you wonder what you were doing. What if he didn’t even come home tonight, maybe he’d gone off on another business trip. You stop yourself from over thinking and decide to just go with it, if he wasn’t here then you could just have the pasta yourself tomorrow.

After eating your meal, you place the spare plate in the fridge and then go in search of something to write on. It doesn’t take you long until you are back in the kitchen with a post-it note in your hand. Now it was time for you to over think everything you could possibly write down. Should you go for, made too much food, left you some. Or maybe, hope you didn’t have too hard a day, food in the fridge. They all sounded personal, as if you knew the guy, which you definitely didn’t. You spend a good 10 minutes thinking of all the things you could say and all of them sounded personal, you decided that there was no way around it so just settled on: There some pasta in the fridge if you want it.

Trying to not back out of it you place the note on the counter in a place that couldn’t be missed if you walked in the room, and then you left the room in a rush, as if you might be caught doing something you shouldn’t be. Watching a film in bed, one ear listening out for your flatmate, you eventually fall asleep without hearing any noise.

Getting ready for work the next morning and walking into the kitchen you see a note on the side. He must not have come home last night you think as you head over to get rid of the note. As you get closer however you notice that it is not your handwriting on the note. Instead a gentle scrawl is on the page.

Thanks, it was delicious.

Four words. Yet your heart manages to pick up speed in your chest due to nerves. Opening the fridge, sure enough the pasta you had put in there the night before was gone. A smile comes to your face at the thought of your flatmate enjoying the food you made, and you are glad that you decided to leave the note.

Over the next week the food cooking and note leaving continue. You still had not seen anything of the man, but you would hear his late night clangs as he came home from work. You started to wonder what it was he did that meant he got home so late. But, although you were unsure, he would still be in bed when you left for work, so maybe he just had a weird shift pattern compared to you. Every morning you would wake and look forward to reading the notes he left you. They started to get longer, as yours had, he started to give you ‘tips’ or requests for how to make it better next time. Things like less spice next time, please and the peanut sauce was great, add more next time! They never failed to bring a smile to your face, and over the week where the exchanges happened you felt your mood picking up, deciding maybe the flat wasn’t so lonely after all.

It had been two weeks since your first post-it note exchange and as you walk into the kitchen you can't help the smile that comes to your face at the sight of a new note. The smile falters slightly when you read the particularly long note however.

Delicious food, as always, next time you could add some mozzarella to the top? Won’t need food for the next few days, though I will miss it, off on a trip for work. Also, it still feels like I live here alone, where is all your stuff? Please feel free to move anything around or put up your own pictures. “See” you in a few days.

There was so much to take in. Your heart sank slightly when you read that he was going away again, the weekend was coming up and though you hadn’t seen him the previous weekends, part of you hoped that you would bump into him, thinking the weekend was the most likely time for it to happen. He hadn’t said how long he was going away for, just a few days, which could be anything from 2 days to a week. You wish you had a way of contacting him outside of these notes, you wanted to ask when he would be back so you could go back to leaving him food. The thing that really got you though was that he wanted you to add your own stuff to the flat. So far the only item that was yours outside of your room was a stray blanket, and even that wasn’t very you, having chosen the most beige one you could find that would fit with the décor. Pulling out your phone you open your messages with Lily composing a text.

Y/N: Fancy coming to the flat this weekend to help me decorate?

You get a reply almost instantly.

Lily: I thought you would never ask. I’ll come Saturday with some wine and pyjamas.

You smile at the text, that’s why you loved Lily, she was never shy and said exactly what she wanted.

“So you still haven’t met him yet?”

You were sat in the flat after having a day of shopping with Lily. Your purchases were still in bags on the floor as you sit in the living room.

“No,” you confirm.

“But you’ve spoken over post-it note?” Lilys face scrunches slightly at her words showing how weird she finds the situation you are in.

“It’s just notes about things around the flat, like if I leave him food or something,” you shrug trying to normalise the situation. “I don’t have any other way of communicating with him.”

“Maybe you should just ask for his number then.”

“He obviously doesn’t want me to have it or Rosie would have given it me from the start.”

“But now you actually live here and have for just over a month, maybe he’s changed his mind.”

You just shrug at her statement not knowing how to reply.

“Or you could just meet him,” Lily pushes. “You said you hear him come home. You could easily just come out of your room and introduce yourself.”

You regret ever telling Lily any of this, mainly because you know she has a good point. You could easily just walk out of your room and introduce yourself and not make it weird. But you knew yourself and you knew you would make it awkward and uncomfortable, just the thought of doing it brought out a cold sweat.

“Yeah, not going to happen,” you say.

“You’re going to meet him one day,” she says. “Why don’t you just do it now, on your own terms rather than when you are least expecting it.”

Again, she had a good point.

“We’ll see,” you respond as a way to show that you were not going to give in and wanted the conversation to move on.

“Alright, but when you do eventually meet him, you know I want all the details,” she says.

“That’s the only reason you want me to meet him isn’t it, so you can finally know what he looks like,” you roll your eyes at her.

“It’s killing me. How is it not killing you? How do you not just want to see what he’s like?” She asks and you can hear the desperation in her voice.

“You have a boyfriend,” you laugh at her.

“I didn’t say I wanted to get with him,” it was her time to roll her eyes at you. “I don’t care if he’s ugly or the hottest guy on planet earth. Are you not the smallest bit curious what he looks like?”

“He could be some old man for all I know,” you reply, trying to act indifferent, though you agreed with Lily, you were dying to know who you were living with. You had images in your mind of what the guy looked like, and with the lack of pictures around the house, your imagination grew even more, some days picturing some hot business man, other days imagining an older gentleman with a long beard.

“An old man living in a house like this?” Lily flings her arms around for effect. “No, he’s 30 max.”

You hum in agreement. “What do you think he does then?” You give in and start to play along with Lily.

“Some hot shot banker? Or maybe a lawyer,” Lily throws out some guesses.

“Or a spy?” You do a fake gasp.

“A spy who lets some random woman come and live with him? I think not,” Lily laughs.

“He is always travelling. Off chasing all those bad guys,” you laugh along.

“Humm, living with James Bond? I could be on board with that idea,” she nods, a wide smile on her face.

“James Bond it is,” you agree, your face mirroring hers.

“So come on then, how are we changing James’ flat?” She stands up and heads over to the bags of stuff you had bought.

You both spend the rest of the weekend changing around items in the flat. You don’t go wild and change anything too dramatically, small changes here and there, a few more vibrant coloured cushions on the sofa, some colourful blankets, a few more house plants strategically placed. You added a fruit bowl in the kitchen as well as some more jars on the side full with teas and coffee, a vase that you could fill with flowers on the kitchen island. You did change one piece of art, taking down the piece that you hadn’t liked since you first arrived, a dark colourless abstract painting. You placed it by your flatmates bedroom door so that he could decide what do you with it, placing a note on top of it that just read: you did say I could change things around.

As promised Lily stayed the night and you were so glad she did, having the best time with her. You drank wine, watched films, talked and decorated the flat. It was the best you had felt in weeks and by the time she left on Sunday you felt like you were more at home. Walking around the flat you were glad that the man had suggested you put your own stamp on the place. Though you were no longer tip toeing around you still had a feeling that you didn’t live here. But now looking around you felt like you finally lived here, like you could relax.

There were no new notes over the next week, the painting and its note remained outside the mans bedroom, indicating he hadn’t returned. The few days he said he would be away obviously meant longer than the weekend you had assumed. You didn’t mind, with the flat feeling more homely you felt like you relaxed more into the space, spending less time cooped up in your room.

When you woke up and went to the kitchen each morning your heart would drop when there was no new note however. Though you always wondered why, they were always short thank you’s, maybe the occasional longer note about something in the food he enjoyed or would change, never anything that special. You reasoned that the feelings were just because it made you feel less alone in the flat.

Eventually though the notes returned. Walking into the kitchen one morning you saw the distinctive post-it note lying on the counter top and had to stop yourself from running over to read it. Picking it up you read over the now familiar handwriting.

I’m back. The place looks a lot better. You were right about that painting, I have always hated it and don’t know why I kept it up for so long. Yours looks so much nicer.

The smile that you were suppressing came to your face. Such a simple note with hardly any information, yet it lifted your mood instantly. You were glad that he liked what you had added to the flat. It was his suggestion in the first place, but a small part of you did worry he would change his mind when he saw what you had done. Your style did seem brighter than his, apart from the much-loved snug room which you had not changed at all.

That evening you did as you had been doing whenever you knew your flatmate was home, you cooked extra and plated it up for him, leaving a note to let him know on the side. The days passed like this, you leaving him food, him leaving a thank you note in the morning. The notes started to get longer in length, sometimes you would find notes in other places around the flat. A note on a DVD recommending you watch it, a new colourful cushion with a note on it saying that he thought it would go with the ones you had added, some ingredients in the kitchen with a note asking if you could make a certain dish that evening. You returned the notes, leaving reviews of the films he had suggested, recommending books in the snug, adding your own in the collection that lined the walls, leaving notes on a new plant you bought that detailed the plants name and a fake greeting from said plant.

The post-it notes became an almost scavenger hunt, your heart leaping every time you saw the bright colour from corner of the room. Though you had still never met the man, you feel like you were slowly getting to know him better. Though you could walk past him in the street and not realise it was your flatmate, you knew what foods he liked, his favourite films and that he was prone to over loving plants accidentally killing them.

It was a Tuesday when you woke up early, your body aching all over. Your throat felt like it was on fire, your chest tight. You had felt a bit rubbish the night before but had gone to bed early and thought you’d wake up fine this morning, but as you lay in bed you felt like pure shit. Literally rolling out of bed, you groan as your feet hit the floor. You attempt to head to the kitchen but only make it so far before deciding to go lie down in the living room instead.

As you lay there, you wonder why you moved from your bed in the first place, it was much comfier there. You attempt to go back to sleep, having a few hours until you needed to get ready for work. This goes out the window fairly quickly as your body feels like it’s on fire, your head pounding, your limbs aching. You hadn’t felt like this in so long and you are unsure what had caused you to become so ill, and for it to get this bad so quickly and out of nowhere.

Getting up again you make it to the kitchen just to down some paracetamol and water before heading back to the sofa. Laying down you flick through Netflix, shoving a random film on in the hopes it would lull you to sleep. Opening your phone you text your manager, apologising for the hour but saying that you didn’t think you’d make it to work. With that you watch the film and it's not long before you drift back into sleep.

You wake hours later, the film long finished, TV off and a blanket over your body. Your mind struggles to function as you blink at the bright light streaming into the room. Your body still aches and you head continues to pound. Sitting up you catch sight of the cup of water and pills on the coffee table, a distinctive bright post-it note next to it. The temperature you were running at made it near impossible but your face still manages to heat up when you realise what had happened. Shrugging the blanket off, which you now realise you didn’t fall asleep with, you lean over to grab the water and pills, taking those before doing anything else. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the note your flatmate must have left.

Left you some water and paracetamol, looks like you might need it. Theres soup in the fridge. Don’t worry about cooking tonight.

The note confirms your suspicions that your flatmate must leave for work after you. It also confirms that he must have found you asleep in here this morning and put the blanket over you. Your face remains hot at the thought, not just because you were running a temperature. You’d never met this guy and the first time he sees you is when you feel like crap and are passed out on the sofa.

The next thing that has your mind racing is the fact that he said not to worry about cooking tonight. Why would you cook in your current state? You had obviously got into the routine of you cooking him dinner, but surely he wouldn’t want to eat anything you made in fear of contagion. He probably just wanted to make it obvious that he wasn’t expecting any food that night.

You don’t think about it for too much longer, your head starting to not hurt as much, the paracetamol you took earlier slowly kicking in. Putting something random on the TV again, it isn’t long until you fall back asleep.

Waking up from what felt like a deep sleep, you already feel slightly better, the sleep helping. Without opening your eyes you hear the noise of the TV and are surprised that anything is still playing, it felt like you had been asleep for hours, but maybe it hadn’t been that long and the film you had put on was still playing. Groaning at you aching body, you roll over, eyes still closed as you curl in on yourself. Deciding that you should check the time to see if you could take some more paracetamol or not, you slowly sit up, another groan leaving your lips as you do so.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” A deep voice speaks out.

Your eyes bolt open, head shooting towards the voice, you almost forget the pain your body was in as you go rigid with shock. You find the source of the voice. A man was sat on the opposite side of the sofa to you. Concern is written all over his face as he looks you, he is sat with a big oversized sweater on, a top poking out of the bottom, grey jogging bottoms on his legs that are crossed underneath him. He has dark brown hair that is slightly messy and parted to show off his forehead, his dark brown eyes look at you as you remain sitting in shock, you mind not comprehending what’s happening, wondering whether you were in some dream.

“What time is it?” You ask, your voice coming out croaky and hoarse from your illness and the fact you hadn’t spoken all day.

A laugh leaves his lips as he looks down at his watch and you notice his perfect white teeth and the way his smile causes his cheeks to squish and small simples to form on his face. “It’s 5.40,” he says, eyes going back to you.

The statement confuses you even more, if you weren’t ill today you would have just been getting home from work. Something wasn’t adding up in your mind, you had felt like you had slept for a few hours meaning it should be the time the man had stated, but you assumed the man to be your flatmate and yet he was never home at this hour. Maybe he wasn’t your flatmate after all. You put a hand to your head and groan at how much it was pounding.

“I’ll get you something for that,” the man leaps off the sofa at seeing your distress and almost runs to the kitchen. Reappearing within a few seconds he walks over to you, giving you a pint of water and some tablets, before he sits down on the sofa, closer to you than before.

You down the tablets and take a few extra gulps of water before looking over at the man, his eyes already watching you. “Sorry, I just feel really crap,” you state the obvious, your voice helping make your point by still sounding hoarse.

“I found you on the sofa this morning and got a bit worried,” he admits. “Have you had anything to eat today?”

So, this was your flatmate. Your face heats suddenly at his words, remembering waking up with a blanket over you this morning. Your eyes fall to your lap in embarrassment. “No,” you croak in answer to his question.

“Are you hungry? I could cook something? Or warm up some soup? Or just order some food?” He fires the questions at you and you bring your eyes back up to him.

“I’m not really hungry,” you say and you see his face shift to one that looks a bit annoyed.

“You need to eat something,” he scolds you slightly. “You’ll feel better for it,” he says before pulling his phone out, taping on it. “I’ll order something for both of us, you don’t have to have much, but you’re having something.”

You watch as he continues to tap on his screen, he doesn’t even bother asking if there is anything you fancy eating, deciding for you. Pulling the blanket tighter around yourself you flop down on the sofa so you’re are lying again. Feeling less nervous around the man, probably due to how ill you felt. You realise that this is the first time you had met and spoken to him in person. This is not how you imagined it happening, you looking like a complete mess, sweating and coughing all over his very expensive sofa. You look over at him from your current position, eyes taking him all in as his eyes are for once on his phone and not you. You had to admit that he looked familiar, you wouldn’t be able to place where you knew him from but you were sure you’d seen him on your TV.

Putting his phone down, he looks over at you and your face heats at the realisation that he has caught you staring at him. A smile forms on his face as he looks at you.

“All ordered, it should be here soon,” he says and there is a slight pause before he continues. “I’m Hoseok by the way. I’m assuming you guessed, but I’m your flatmate.”

Hoseok. Rosie had called him Hobi, but that was obviously a nickname. You give him a small smile before saying your name.

“I guessed,” he nods at you, his smile widening. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N.”

You hum lowly at him in agreement, your heart pounding slightly in your chest and you’re not sure if it’s due to your illness or the presence of the man currently sat in the room with you.

“Sorry I look and feel so rubbish, I’m normally more fun than this,” you croak.

“I think you look perfectly fine,” he shrugs keeping his eyes on you and you have to look away in embarrassment.

There is a seconds pause before you speak again. “Why are you here anyway?” You ask before realising how rude that must have sounded and continue to clarify your point. “I mean, you’re never normally home at this time. Did you get to leave early today?”

It was his turn to falter under your gaze, his eyes flicking away from your face and resting on the TV. You see a slight pink creep up his neck.

“We didn’t have much on this evening and I saw how ill you were this morning that I got a bit worried leaving you here alone,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, but your heart almost grows in size at the gesture. The man hardly knew you yet he had taken time off work to come and look after you?

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say feeling slightly bad.

“Don’t worry about it,” he continues to act as if it is no big deal. “Anyway, it was about time we actually met.”

You hum in agreement, deciding to sit back up again, reaching for your water to take a sip. “I just wish I felt a bit better,” you repeat your earlier statement.

“Me too,” Hoseok says softly. “Anyway, I wanted to say that I really love what you’ve done with the place. I know I wrote it in a note but I want you to know I really mean it.”

“It’s just a few cushions and plants,” you try to push off his statement.

“Maybe, but it makes it feel like someone actually lives here. I enjoy coming back here now, rather feeling like I’m living in a hotel.”

“Some hotel,” you mock and he laughs gently. “But it’s seriously nothing. I should be thanking you for letting me stay here and invade your space with my rubbish.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “It’s not rubbish,” he says. “Just take the compliment,” he smiles at you.

“Ok, thanks,” you give in. “But I do also honestly want to say thanks for letting me live here. It is a very nice place you have here.”

“Can I be honest with you?” You watch his face shift in emotion again, an almost sadness coming over his features, and you nod at him. “Most of my friends told me that I shouldn’t do this, let someone live here that is. And I nearly listened to them. But I used to come home and just feel like it wasn’t my home. I thought that having someone else actually live here would make it feel lived in and more like a home, and maybe at the start that didn’t quite happen,” he shoots you a look and you know he is referring to how you didn’t put any of your stuff outside the confines of your room. “But that’s why I’m saying thank you for living here and putting your stuff everywhere, because now I enjoy coming home and I feel like I am somewhere that is lived and loved, and that makes me feel nice.”

Your heart warms at his words. He had said he liked the decorations on a note before and had obviously thanked you enough times. He had even started to buy more decorations for the flat incorporation with things you had added. But you had no idea that it had this much of an effect on him. You smile gently at him.

“I don’t know, is that weird?” He says into the pause, obviously worried he had gone too far with his words.

“No, not at all,” you reassure him. “It’s nice to know that you like my additions. But what about the snug? That always been warm and homely?”

“The snug?” His face scrunches in confusion before being overtaken by realisation. “Oh, the snug, I like that,” he smiles at you. “That’s all my sisters doing. I let her loose on that one room when I moved in and I think it’s where I feel most at home. It’s definitely the most me room. Believe it or not I actually like bright colours.”

He had a sister? You were slowly learning more and more about the man and everything was interesting to you. You wanted to know more, you wanted to know everything.

“I think it’s my favourite room. She has great taste,” you say.

“She’ll be happy to know that.”

“Are the two of you close?”

“In a way. We get on and I try to talk to her as often as I can. But as you may have noticed, I have a pretty hectic life so it’s hard to see her and my family.”

If anyone could understand that it was you, you lived with the man and this was the first time you had seen him. You felt sorry for him, he was obviously very successful and had a lot of money, but you could see that it made him sad that he didn’t get to see his family very often. Was money really everything? But then you still had no idea what his job was, maybe it was worth all these sacrifices he seemed to be making.

Before you can question him anymore a buzz sounds from the door.

“Must be our food,” he says and you slowly start to rise. “You stay here,” he leaps up, raising a hand in your direction. “I’ll go get it and bring it all through,” he says before leaving you alone in the room.

Pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders you look towards the TV. You felt like you were in some sort of fever dream. You had expected to meet your flatmate at some point, but when you imagined it, it was some awkward meeting in the hall that lasted a few minutes, not what was currently happening. You had felt awkward at times, otherwise the conversation had been easy. You couldn’t remember the last time you had met someone for the first time and were able to talk to them as easily as you just had with Hoseok. Normally you would have been stuttering, especially if they looked as good as he did. You reach for your phone and open up your messages with Lily.

Y/N: I just met James Bond.

You send the message, both of you having called your flatmate James Bond ever since you had the joke about you living with a spy. Needing to tell someone about the encounter you had just had you of course told the only person you could. As normal with Lily you almost instantly got a reply.

Lily: WTF!! What’s he like? Send me a picture! I need details!!

Y/N: I am not going to take a picture of him. And he’s nice.

Lily: I need more than that.

Y/N: Can’t talk now, he’s coming back. Will call soon.

Lily: Why did you even bother telling me, it’s like you’re trying to torture me. Call me tomorrow.

You chuckle slightly at how dramatic she could be before looking up to see Hoseok walk in with arms full of food.

“So I know you said you weren’t that hungry, but I thought you might change your mind when everything got here,” he says, placing the banquet of food on the coffee table. “What do you want?”

“I’m honestly not that hungry,” you say genuinely meaning it, but when you look at him and see his stern face you give in. “Maybe just a bit of something plain? Those noodles look good.”

He gives you a wide smile as he picks up the noodles and hands them to you with some cutlery.

“Thanks,” you say taking it off him. “And you’ll know how much I owe you?”

He ignores your comment, instead picking up the remote and looking to the TV.

“What we watching?” He asks.

“You know when I said I don’t care if he’s the hottest man on earth, I take it back,” Lilys voice sounds through the phone the next evening.

You had taken the day off work again, although you felt slightly better you still weren’t 100% and when you called your boss he had said it was fine for you to have another day off. The previous night you had eaten a bit of food and watched a movie with Hoseok before falling asleep on the sofa again. You were awoken to him gently saying your name and rocking your shoulder, telling you to go to your own bed to sleep. The following morning he had knocked on your door to check on how you were, dropping some food and medicine off before explaining that he was heading off to work. You had no idea when you would next see him, and he didn’t let you know when he would next be home. After trying to sleep off your illness for the rest of the day you finally called Lily to give her the details that she was craving.

“You haven’t even seen him, how are you assuming he is the hottest man on earth?” You laugh.

“Y/N, you just described him, you made him sound like a walking god,” you cringe at her words, you hadn’t realised that you had made him out to be like that, but maybe you inadvertently had.

“He’s alright I guess,” you attempt to back track.

“Yeah, whatever,” you can almost hear her eyes rolling down the other end of the phone. “So what did you talk about?”

“Normal stuff,” you shrug. “He was mainly just making sure I wasn’t too ill.”

“Aww, he sounds like he’s the cutest,” she coos.

“He was probably just making sure I wasn’t infecting his flat, which would then make him ill,” again you try to downplay it.

“Will you stop. Just admit he ticks all the boxes. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he looks after you and he’s rich,” she lists off.

“Sure, but I never see him. I live with the guy and I never see him, surely that is the biggest red flag going,” you reply. “Anyway, it’s not like that. We are flatmates, we met last night and talked like normal flatmates and it was nice.”

“OK, nothing’s going to happen, sure,” she says. “Maybe he has friends? You could definitely settle for a friend.”

“This is not some dating expedition,” you laugh. “Can’t I just talk to a guy without their being any romance or possible intentions behind it?”

“You’re right, sorry,” she sighs. Lily always did this, you couldn’t bring up a guys name without her questioning you about him. You know there were only good intentions behind it, she just wanted to see you happy, but as you always told her, you could be happy and also single.

“It’s alright. It’s just he’s basically my landlord so I don’t want any weirdness there.”

“Yeah, you have a pretty sweet set up there, you wouldn’t want anything ruining that,” she agrees. “I just want you to have the best.”

“And one day I will,” you smile down the phone. “Listen, I think I’m going to have a snack and then probably sleep some more. I should probably try and get back to work tomorrow. I love you and will see you soon.”

“Love you too, hope you feel better tomorrow,” she says before the line goes dead.

After that one encounter with Hoseok, things went back to normal. You got over your illness and started to go back to work. Hoseok went back to his normal life of coming home at god know what time when you were asleep. You’re paths never crossing, except for the post-it notes, which seemed to almost double in quantity. Handwriting become smaller and more cramped on the notes so that more details could be given.

The notes still remain on fairly mundane topics, never straying into anything to personal. You still had no real idea who the man really was, what he did for a living, where he went every day. But you did have a good idea who the man was in the sense of his likes and dislikes. It didn’t feel like much, but you still enjoyed reading his notes every day. Replying to them with your own thoughts.

It was a Friday night and you had agreed to go out with some friends. It wasn’t common for you and your friends to go out, preferring quiet nights in. Heading over to Lilys to get ready you had both decided to make a bit of effort, sipping on drinks while you both dance around your old flat and slowly put make-up on.

Getting tipsy before heading to the club wasn’t necessarily your intention but you had both got carried away pre-drinking. By the time you met up with the rest of your friends you were on the right side of tipsy, this however quickly changed. You kept up with your friends, drinking drink for drink, and this was not good for either of you. It had hardly turned 1am as you were both jumping around the dance floor in each other's arms.

“I love you so much Y/N,” Lily slurs into your ear.

“I love you too,” you beam back at her.

A laugh escapes you as Lily takes you in her arms and spins you around. Then a hand is placed on your shoulder stopping the spinning and you look to see who it was.

“Eddie,” you continue to smile as you replace Lily with Eddie, squeezing him in your arms slightly. He had said that he was out with friends and that he would turn up at some point to join you, and then be around to take Lily home, so his appearance wasn’t too much of a shock.

“Hey, he’s mine,” you hear a voice behind you before you are almost ripped from the man, Lily taking your place.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie laughs. “There’s enough of me to go around,” he jokes.

Lily leans up to give him a kiss on the lips, Eddie allowing it until she tries to deepen it, when he pulls away.

“You seem happy to see me,” Eddie looks over to you with an apologetic smile. Lily almost seems to go limp in Eddies arms and he struggles to hold her. Rushing over you help him lift her up, looking up at him a bit concerned at the sudden change in her state. You thought that the two of you were on the same level, but you were obviously handling your drink a lot better than she was. While she seemed to be past drunk, you were on the perfect level still coherent to remember everything but drunk enough to not care about anything.

“Let’s go get some air?” Eddie suggests, already starting to drag Lily and therefore you outside.

“I’ll get some water,” you suggest. “I’ll see you outside.”

Rushing over to the bar, you ask for three glass of water and when they’re handed over you head outside to look for your friends. What you see is not pretty. Lily is hunched in a corner, Eddie stood over her with his hand on her back. You feel like you sober up slightly at the sight.

“Here, drink some of this,” you hand Eddie one of the cups to try and he tries get Lily to drink some. “God I’m so sorry, I should have got her to slow down,” you say.

“It’s alright, she’s alright. It’s no one's fault,” Eddie is now having to reassure you and Lily. “You just had a bit too much to drink didn’t you love,” Eddie continues to stroke Lilys back.

You down some of the water that you had got for yourself, your brain spinning at bit due to the alcohol.

“I think we should head home,” Eddie looks up at you.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Do you want me to come with you?” You ask.

“No, we’ll be OK, you stay and have fun,” he replies.

You nod at him, but now feel distinctively not in the mood to party. Lily was the main reason that you had come tonight anyway and as she was heading home you saw no need to stay.

“Home sounds good actually, I think I might do the same,” you say to Eddie.

“Alright, come on, I’ll call you a cab,” Eddie hauls Lily into his arms and helps you both over to the street to go home.

With Eddie calling you a cab it takes no time for you to get to the entrance of your building. You stumble slightly towards the door, and nearly fall on your face as you go to open the door but it opens before you get there. A hand comes out to help you before you fall though.

“Oh, hi Keith,” you smile at the doorman.

“Hi, Y/N,” he smiles down at you, his hand still helping to support you. “Good night?”

“It was great thanks. I just had a few drinks,” you say though you know you both know that is an understatement.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Keith says as you both make your way over to the elevator, you still clinging to his arm for support. He calls for the elevator and you stand and wait, your head resting on his upper arm as you close your eyes and give a content hum. Over the time that you had been living in the flat you had grown to love Keith. He always seemed to be there and had helped you out many a sticky situation. Whenever you had time you would stop and talk to him about your day, and you had learnt so much about him in the process. But you know when you sober up and think back to this current moment part of you will die of embarrassment.

“I hope you have had a nice night too,” you pout up at him, always saying that he worked too hard.

“It’s been made ten times better now that I have seen you,” he jokes and you laugh at him.

“Always making me blush,” you say as the elevator arrives and you walk into it. “Hopefully see you soon,” you point a finger at him and smile.

He laughs at your drunken state and nods his head. “I’m always here,” he says as the doors close on him.

You have to take a breath to steady yourself as the elevator rises. Fishing in your bag you go on the hunt for your keys as the doors open. You decide to take one of the seats to stop yourself from wobbling around, helping you find your keys quicker. Once you have them you stand up and move towards the door. A hand on the door frame you jab the key at the key hole, missing a few times before you finally get it in the lock and open the door.

Stumbling into the house you close the door and wince at how loud you were being, only now conscious of the fact you probably weren’t home alone and it was very late. You haphazardly kick off your shoes, and wince again when they make a loud noise when hitting the wall. In your drunken state you continue to the kitchen and stumble around in search of a glass, filling it up with water when you finally locate it.

“Y/N?” A familiar deep voice sounds out and it is only then that you hear other voices in the flat.

“Hello?” You say, cringing slightly at the state you were in when Hoseok obviously had friends around.

“Y/N? Come join us in here,” Hoseok shouts again in the direction of the living room.

You take a few deep breaths as you slowly head to the living room, water in hand. Internally trying to sober up, yet your mind still fuzzy, and your walk a bit wobbly.

When you get to the door you look around the room, leaning against the frame for support. Hoseok was sat on the sofa facing the door and therefore you, a smile on his face. Around him are four other people. One man with blonde hair, and a wide smile like Hoseok, another man with longer brown hair and a boxy smile, a third man that only had a small smile that showed no teeth, and a woman who had long brown hair that nearly reached her hips. Your eyes whip around the people in the room, all their eyes on you, the room silent.

“Hi,” you give a small awkward wave at everyone with the hand holding the water, which sploshes around, some escaping the glass and you give an audible “woops” as you watch it.

“Hey. Sorry I would have told you about this but it was a very last-minute thing so I didn’t have a chance to leave you a note,” Hoseok explains. “I did knock on your door to invite you, but you were obviously out. Been anywhere nice?”

“No worries. I’ve just out with friends, sorry I didn’t leave you a note” you point over your shoulder as if to clarify where you had been, and the boy with blonde hair lets out a small giggle as more water leaves your glass. “I’ll clean that up,” you say stupidly as it’s just water, and Hoseok gives you a fond smile.

“You guys leave each other notes?” The blonde-haired boy continues to smile as he looks at Hoseok.

“Well, yeah,” he says awkwardly, looking over at you shyly, and you can only join the boy in laughing, realising how stupid it sounded.

“He’s never given me his number,” you shrug a massive smile on your face. The alcohol causing you to say things you would never normally say.

“So you leave each other notes?” The boy's eyes are now back on you as he continues his questioning.

“I guess it’s the only way I can talk to him,” you say, eyes going to Hoseok, a red tint coming to his face. “I just say the normal things, good morning, how you doing? What you up to? And then I get a reply 10 hours later, it’s like living in the 19th century,” you laugh at yourself, the blonde man joining you, unsure what the hell you were babbling on about.

“Maybe one of you should have just written your number on one of the notes. Then you would have caught up to the 21st century,” the boy that previously only had a toothless smile was now looking at you with amusement, a small gummy smile on display.

You hum in response. Honestly you had considered it, but you were too scared of the rejection. Hoseok had never provided you with his number and you thought maybe there was a reason behind it. You had left the ball in his court, though you were unsure if he knew that.

“I should maybe introduce you guys,” Hoseok speaks up, trying to move the conversation on. “This is Yoongi,” he points to the guy with the gummy smile, “Jimin,” the blonde-haired man, “Taehyung,” the boy with the boxy smile, “and Liv,” he points to the girl. “And this is my flatmate Y/N,” he introduces you and you do another embarrassing wave.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Jimin smiles at you and your face heats up at the words.

“Have you?” You say, not believing him.

“Oh yeah lots. Only good things don’t worry,” he reassures you, though it doesn’t do any good, your mind thinking about all the things that Hoseok could have said about you.

You nod your head slowly at him, still unsure if he is messing with you. “I hope he didn’t tell you about how awful I looked when I was ill,” you say suddenly remembering.

“He mentioned it, though I don’t recall him describing you as looking awful,” Taehyung smirks.

“Did you want to join us?” Hoseok cuts in, and when you look at him you can see that his face has turned a slightly darker shade of pink.

“It’s alright, I was just going to head to bed,” you point to your room this time, making it clear where you meant, Jimin giggling at your action again.

“We have alcohol,” Yoongi mimics you by pointing at the bottles set on the table.

“I seriously don’t think I need any more,” you say. “Water should be enough,” you hold up the glass which causes more liquid to fall out.

“Just stay for one. Looks like your waters going to need a refill soon anyway,” Jimin jokes. “I promise we are nice. We want to meet Hoseoks flatmate that he won’t stop talking about.”

You look over to Hoseok to gauge his reaction, you didn’t want to intrude on his mini gathering. He gives you a small nod, letting you know he is ok with it.

“Ok,” you give in, finally moving away from the door you were propped against. “But I seriously do not need any more alcohol. God knows what I’ll start rambling on about then.”

“Just one,” Jimin says as he starts to pour out a concoction of different liquids. “I want to hear your rambles.”

You make it over to the sofa and almost fall down onto it, sat at the far end closest to Jimin. Downing the remainder of your water you place the now empty glass on the table before taking the glass Jimin hands you.

“To new friends,” he laughs as he raises his own glass so that he can cheers you.

You pout slightly as you take the smallest sip of your drink, even that feeling too much.

“So what do you do Y/N?” Liv asks you before you have even taken the glass away from your lips.

“I work in marketing,” you say, a small smile on your lips as you look at her. “Sounds boring I know,” you laugh at yourself.

“No, marketing's cool. What company do you work for?” She reassures you.

“I work in digital marketing at a relatively small company. I basically help work on their apps, making them better and more accessible for the customer,” you say and can almost see everyone's eyes glaze over in boredom. “It’s not the best job in the world, but I enjoy it,” you say feeling slightly insecure. Hoseok was in a career that made him a lot of money and he was probably friends with people who also did the same. You are suddenly very aware that you are probably in a room full of people that made more in a week then you do in a year.

“I think it sounds great,” Jimin jumps in. “I love apps.”

You laugh at his attempts to reassure you, thankful for his kindness. “What do you guys do then?” You say it lightly as it seems like the next natural question but you instantly regret it, all eyes in the room shooting to Hoseok who looks worried, and the atmosphere in the room shifts slightly.

“I’m a PR,” Liv speaks up and you are glad that she breaks the tension in the room. “Of sorts anyway. I basically just manage people schedules and what they need to be doing.”

You nod at her words, actually interested in what she was saying. “I’m not sure I would be organised enough for that,” you say.

“But come on, we want to know more about you. How come you’re living here with Hobi?” Liv steers the conversation away from jobs and though you are glad the tension in the room is slowly disappearing, it does not help your curiosity when thinking about what Hoseok does for a living.

“I needed a room, he was providing one,” you shrug, deciding not to go into detail, taking a sip of your drink to avoid talking.

“And are you enjoying it here?” Liv presses.

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” you give a smile, taking another sip of your drink. “The décor wasn’t the best, but now I’ve improved it, it’s great.”

A laugh ripples through the room and that combined with the alcohol gives you some fake confidence.

“What’s it like living with Hobi? Has his OCD cleaning annoyed you yet?” Taehyung asks.

“No, it’s late-night snacking that would annoy me,” Yoongi chimes in.

“Come on guys, it’s surely his singing. I’ve heard him in the shower multiple times and I think my ears are permanently scarred,” Jimin laughs.

“No, no, what about all his clothes. Has he asked to take over some of your closet space yet?” Taehyung starts to laugh just as hard as Jimin, and you can’t help but let out a small giggle.

“Go on then, what’s the most annoying thing?” Yoongi asks and all eyes go to you. Under the pressure of the eyes your face starts to heat up, your previous confidence dissipating into the air.

“We all know it’s my obsession for tea. I go through the stuff so quickly Y/N is probably having to buy the stuff daily,” Hoseok saves you and you give him a small smile to show how much you appreciate it. “Anyway, let’s stop harassing Y/N, she’ll never want to join you guys for a drink again if this is how you treat her.”

“No, I’m fun,” Jimin pouts at you. “She’ll want to hang out with me again,” he says and you giggle at his words. “Yoongi is the boring one here.”

“Hey. I’m not the one harassing her with questions,” Yoongi shoots back at Jimin.

“Well at least I’m welcoming and not sat in the corner looking all grumpy,” Jimin continues and you can tell that it is just the way their relationship goes by the smiles on both of their faces.

“I was the one that offered her alcohol,” Yoongi says.

“Neither of you are fun,” Hoseok jumps in. “Let’s just play a game.”

“A game sounds good,” Taehyung agrees, standing up to go and get something, coming back a few seconds later with a pack of cards in his hands.

You end up playing a game that you had never played before, yet somehow ended up winning the two games you played.

“You know the winner has to drink, right?” Jimin looks at you.

“That wasn’t a rule last time I won,” you say.

“That was a practice,” he defends.

“Why does the winner have to drink?” You look around the table in the hopes someone would back you up, finding no one was going to. You give a small huff and cross your arms in annoyance. “I would have at least tried to not be as good if I had known. Though it would have been hard to not have one you are all so rubbish,” you say with a small smile as they all start shouting out at your insult.

“That definitely deserves a drink now,” Taehyung chimes in, and you give him a small glare.

“Come on, as the newest member of the group you should drink,” Hoseok adds and you open your mouth in mock shock at him.

“If anyone was going to have my back, I was hoping it would be my lovely flatmate,” you say and you see a few eyes flick between you as internally cringe at the fact you had called him lovely. “Maybe you’re not so lovely after all,” you say unsure if you were making the situation any better.

Deciding to end your embarrassment you pick up your glass and down its contents, face scrunching up when it was all gone.

“Now that’s honestly enough, I don’t want a throwing up Y/N on my hands tomorrow,” Hoseok says. “I’ve already had to look after her once,” he gives you a smile and you look away in embarrassment at the memory.

The night turns to talking. They continue to ask you the occasional question but talk turns to topics and people that you don’t know. While they try to include you at the start, all the alcohol you had drunk starts to make you go sleepy and you end up passing out on the sofa to the sounds of their voices.

Head pounding, throat dry, a slight queasy feeling in your stomach, it felt like you were ill all over again, but this time it was self-inflicted. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, to realise where you were and what had happened. The last thing you remember is being on the sofa, everyone talking while you struggle to keep your eyes open. But this morning you find yourself tucked in your bed wearing just your underwear and t-shirt.

Slightly embarrassed about not knowing what occurred last night, you roll over in search of your phone, finding it on your bedside table. 7:10am. You groan, cursing the fact that you naturally wake up so early due to work.

After failing to get back to sleep, you decide you may as well get up and have some water and see if you can stomach any food. Rolling out of bed you change into your actual pyjamas and head to the kitchen. Downing a pint of water, you pour a second glass and sip on it while you make some toast. Taking a bite out of you, you walk to the living room planning on watching a film. You almost chock on your toast however when you see a figure on the sofa. Having assumed you were home alone, or at least the only one awake at this time, you are surprised to see Jimin tucked under a blanket.

Though he is fast asleep your face instantly heats up with embarrassment. You stand awkwardly in the door, not knowing whether you should turn on the spot and head back to your room, or go in and watch a film as planned and risk waking the man. You opt for the third option. Turning on the spot you head instead to the snug.

Settling into your favourite seat, looking out at the barely lit city below you, you continue to chomp on your toast. Placing the empty plate that once held on the coffee table, something catches your eye. Standing up you take a step so you are stood by the wall of books and knick-knacks. But placed on one of the shelves, right in the corner, is a picture.

Picking it up you pull it closer to your face so you can study it. A family, a man and a woman with a young girl and boy stood in front of them. They all have big smiles on their faces, looking like they are mid laugh. The little boy was unmistakably your flatmate Hoseok. Though he was probably 15 years younger in the photo, he still had the same eyes, the same hair, the same smile.

“My parents and my sister,” a voice says from behind you and you almost drop the frame.

Spinning round you see the man you had just been staring at in the photo. Hair fluffy and sticking up at odd angles, he obviously hadn’t brushed it, in a pair of long plaid pyjamas, and a pair of animal slippers on his feet. He had obviously just rolled out of bed.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise, placing the photo back where you had found it.

“You don’t need to apologise,” he smiles at you. “It’s your flat too.”

“I don’t usually snoop around your stuff,” you continue to apologise even though he’s already told you that you don’t need to. “I had just never noticed this before and wanted to have a closer look.”

“I told you, it’s fine,” he chuckles slightly at your rambles. Moving closer so he stands next to you he picks up the photo you had just put down. “I decided a few more personal touches might be nice around the flat. You must be rubbing off on me,” he looks over at you and you shy under his gaze, eyes going to the photo in his hands. “My parents,” he points at the two older people in the photo. “And my sister,” he points at the young girl.

“Very cute,” you say.

“We were on a day out and my dad asked someone to take this photo. It’s one of my favourites.”

You look at him as he stares down at the photo and can see the almost longing in his eyes. You can tell how happy he is just staring at the photo in his hands. Almost snapping out of a daze, he visibly shakes his head before placing the picture back in its spot.

“A simpler time,” he says with a pang of sadness in his voice.

“Things always become more complicated when we get older,” you say. “Which reminds me. What happened last night?”

He chuckles at your words and you are glad to see the smile return to his face.

“You had obviously just had a bit too much to drink. I’d blame Jimin’s drink making if I was you,” he says.

“God, how embarrassing,” you shove a hand over your face in an attempt to hide, unsure what you had done.

“Nothing embarrassing. You just passed out on the sofa, don’t worry,” Hoseok continues to smile at you.

“Thats embarrassing,” you say, peaking through your fingers to look at him. “And how the hell did I get into my bed?” You panic slightly.

“Well, we tried to wake you,” Hoseok’s face goes slightly red at the words. “But you were completely knocked out. So I carried you to your bed.”

“Oh god,” you groan. “And my clothes?” You almost don’t want to ask but also need to know the answer.

“That was all Liv,” Hoseok is quick to defend himself, hands in the air in mock surrender.

“Jesus, I’m a mess. I’m so sorry, your friends are probably wondering why the hell you have me living in your flat.” Dismissing his clear embarrassment over how you ended up in your bed in just a t-shirt and your pants, for your own embarrassment.

“Forget about it. Let’s just go have some food and watch something,” he doesn’t wait for your answer before leaving the room, you trailing behind him.

“I think Jimins asleep in there,” you say sheepishly before Hoseok walks into the living room.

“He’ll be alright,” he shrugs at you before walking in.

You follow him in, noticing Jimin still sleeping on the sofa, seemingly not bothered by Hoseok clattering around. Being a bit quieter, you sit down on the sofa, legs out in front of you as Hoseok turns the TV on.

“What we watching?” He asks.

“I don’t mind.”

“Letting me choose may not be wise,” he warns and you just smile at him, letting him know you honestly don’t care. “The notebook it is,” he says and you can’t help but laugh.

It takes about 20 minutes of the film to play before Jimin finally wakes up. You and Hoseok had been relatively silent before he woke up, but Jimin is quick to change that. Sitting up you both watch him as he squints around the room in confusion.

“Looks like you had fun last night,” Hoseok laughs at Jimin with his blonde hair ruffled all over his head, his undercut on show.

Rubbing a hand over his face, his eyes squint as he continues to look confused. You give him a small smile when he meets your eye contact, before looking away, wanting to give him some sort of privacy haven just woken up.

“Have you guys eaten yet?” Are the first husky words that leave Jimins mouth, and you can’t help but laugh along with Hoseok.

“Fancy ordering something?” Hoseok asks and as you look around to him you see Jimin giving a silent nod, hand on his forehead.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” You ask Jimin a bit concerned. Nodding he hardly looks at you. “And I still owe you for the food you got me last time,” you say to Hoseok as you get up to get some water for Hoseok.

“And I told you not to worry about it,” Hoseok calls after you as you walk out the room.

Reappearing a few seconds later, hands now full with a cup of water and some paracetamol, Hoseok and Jimin are already talking food.

“Will you at least let me pay for this one,” you plead, handing Jimin the things in your hands getting a small thanks in reply.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hoseok barely looks at you as he scrolls through food options on his phone. “What about Moose cafe, they do good pancakes?” Hoseok doesn’t even look at you as he aims the question at Jimin.

“Jimin, tell me what you want, I’m buying it,” you say stubbornly, whipping your phone out.

“No, I have it,” Hoseok shoots you a glare.

“Jimin, I just got you that water, the least you can do is let me buy the food,” you say.

“Jimin, you’re in my house as a guest the least I can do is buy you food,” Hoseok replies.

“I pay rent to live here, so I could also use that as an excuse,” you roll your eyes at Hoseok. “You are the one that keeps telling me to treat this place like it’s mine,” you raise your eyebrows at him. “Please just let me pay,” you plea.

“For God's sake,” Jimin finally speaks. “Will you guys just shut up? Listen, he is not going to let you pay, and neither am I.”

“Why have you got to be so nice? I owe you money, why won’t you let me pay it,” you whine slightly. You felt like Hoseok was already doing you a favour by letting you live here so cheaply, you didn’t want him doing you any more favours on top of that. It may not be much money for him, but for you it was, if it was any other friend you would have paid them and they wouldn’t have refused.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Hoseok repeats, a small smile returning to his face as he realises he may have won. “So, what’s everyone having?”

“I’ll have the pancakes with bacon,” Jimin says.

“Y/N?” Hoseok looks at you.

“I don’t want anything thanks,” you reply.

“Don’t be like that,” the smile falls off Hoseoks face at your stubbornness.

“I have food in the fridge I need to eat,” you shrug lightly.

“Just add some extra pancakes in for her,” Jimin pipes up and you shoot him a glare.

“I won’t eat them,” you say.

“They’ll just go in the bin then,” Jimin says.

“I can afford to buy my own pancakes,” you slouch into the sofa, letting them know what was getting to you.

“We don’t doubt that you can’t,” Hoseok voice is softer, realisation hitting him. “It’s just pancakes. Don’t over think it.”

You don’t reply to him, feeling like you were making the situation more than it needed to be, after all it was just pancakes. But your money insecurities were slightly getting to you. And he takes your silence as compliance to order the food, letting you and Jimin know that the food was on the way.

“Last night was fun,” Jimin attempts to cut the slight tension that has arisen in the room.

“Yeah, thanks for letting me crash,” you say. “Your friends are really lovely.”

“Was nice to have you join, everyone really liked you,” Hoseok says.

“Even though I passed out?” You cringe at the thought.

“Especially because you passed out,” Jimin laughs. “Now it’s not just me that’s done it in the group.”

“Great, not sure that’s the best reputation to hold,” you say. “I’m guessing you have the day off work?” You ask Hoseok, noting the fact he was still in the flat when he would normally be gone.

“Oh yeah, we have a few days off,” he says.

“You two work together?” You are still intrigued to what your flatmate does, but are also conscious that whenever the topic arises the atmosphere shifts.

“Unfortunately,” is the only reply you get, essentially cutting the conversation short, and increasing your intrigue on the subject.

“Have you got any plans with your time off?” You ask.

“I’m planning on just hanging around the flat, so sorry but you’ll have to put up with me for a few more days,” Hoseok replies. “Maybe Jimin and some of my other friends will come round one night?” Hoseok directs the question to Jimin. “If that’s ok with you, of course,” his head shots in your direction, almost as if he forgot you live here.

“It’s your flat, invite whoever you want,” you say.

“But you know you can invite whoever you want here too?” Hoseok says.

“Of course,” you say, though your voice doesn’t sound as sure as your words.

“Well if Y/N is here, I will be coming round all the time,” Jimin winks at you and you give a hearty laugh in response.

“Jesus, is there anyone you don’t flirt with?” Hoseok rolls his eyes, and you continue to laugh, feeling slightly embarrassed by the comment.

Saved by the doorbell, you almost leap up when you offer to go and get the food. Leaving the room, it doesn’t take you long to get the food and plate it up, carrying it all back on a tray you stop outside the door when you hear your name mentioned.

“You haven’t told her?” You hear Jimin ask.

“How does it really ever come up into conversation? It’s not something you just casually say,” Hoseok says.

“I’m still on team tell Y/N. And now I have met her, I am even more pro,” Jimin says.

“I will, I just need the right time,” Hoseok says.

“And like you said, there is no perfect time. The longer you wait, the weirder it will be,” Jimin says.

You have no idea what they are talking about. What could Hoseok possibly be keeping from you that Jimin thinks he should be saying? And why does Hoseok think there needs to be some perfect timing for him to tell you?

Realising you had been stood eves dropping for a second or two too long, you decide to walk into the room, pretending you heard nothing. The two of them seemed oblivious to the fact that you may have heard them, and you keep it that way. Eating your pancakes and chatting with them you enjoy your day off with your flatmate for once.

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imbellarosa · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s Talk Calm-ly about Two Loves

OR: When you’re a grown man who writes stories for a living, you definitely wrote your own weird bedtime story, too.

The TLDR here is that H has taken one specific listener around the globe, notably to Tokyo and Jamaica. He quotes an old Victorian Poet who was an awful human but who’s lasting legacy is the phrase “a love that dare not speak its name” which is - you guessed it - a reference to queer love. He also is super excited to spend what seems like the foreseeable future with this listener and has bought a little house with a garden of daisies with them and it’s very sweet and domestic. Anyways this is a wild time and it’s all under a cut because it’s...really a lot.

Anyways I think the people I owe thank yous this times around to are @queenlokibeth who had to listen to me scream about this for a while, Astrid, who screamed with me when this came out, and “M” who convinced me to finally get to work in this fandom. And, of course, all of the lovely people tagged below who’s work I used to build my argument.

1.) Who Wrote “Dream With Me”?

Well, not H, or so the story goes. Two other people (Steve Cleverly and Sanj Sen) did! I mean, right, okay, for a while I was like...that seems like an odd choice for a man who didn’t want to hand Two Ghosts over to his own band because it seemed too personal. He wrote on every song in both albums’ he’s released thus far, because he seems to be passionate about telling the stories he wants to tell (even if he won’t tell you explicitly what they’re about). But for a while, I was totally going with the flow there, and the rest of this analysis would still stand: the writer of this story definitely referenced a poem by Lord Alfred Douglas and Harry’s own songs.

However, I then read this fun quote from the Co-founder and CEO of Calm:

“Well,” he said, “The the Harry Styles one is interesting because that came purely from Harry Styles himself...we took the approach of creating a sort of musical epic poem – he doesn’t sing, it’s spoken with poetry, but there’s a sort of musical sound bed to it and it’s pulling on things and themes that Harry’s fans really adore about him and associate with him. So his story was driven really by him – we really created a concept around him.”

- Chris Advansun, July 7th, 2020 via @hlupdate

And I thought, hmmm. This does not sound like a project that he was not involved in creating. From this point on (July, 7th 2020), I began to think of it as a three way co-collaboration between him and the other two authors. But this confused me a bit, because there was largely a nonreaction from the fandom. I was waiting for an actual transcript, because I always fall asleep to these meditation stories, but it was being referenced to as some sort of Y/N fic, which was...honestly not what I expected, but also not implausible, thanks to the ~lovely~ image this man has had since the age of sixteen. But also, twitter seemed to be concerned by other things at the moment, and no one was analyzing the story. .

In fact, I messaged a friend the day that this story dropped, because it had been kind of a shit show day on Twitter. Rumors were sort of flying about everyone and everything: had Liam shaved his head? Was he engaged? Had he and Maya broken up? Were Zayn and Gigi engaged? Had they broken up? Did Niall have a girlfriend? (this one was true lol). Were Elounor engaged? Were they pregnant? Had they broken up??? My personal fav was the bald Liam rumor, which he promptly put to rest in LP Act 1 by...having a huge mane of hair.

So then I thought - huh. Why has today looked like this? I’m not saying that there aren’t days that twitter goes wild because of boredom, because there definitely is - the articles about secret meetings in Italy that are coming out this week (8/12/2020) are proof positive. So that definitely does happen, but it doesn’t usually happen on the days that there’s a lot of content. And maybe I’ve just been starved for content in this fandom, but I would consider a 40 minute video quite a bit of content.

Then the transcript dropped. I’m using two as references - this one on Wattpad and also @carl-and-pearl ‘s version here (thank you so much for the transcript!!). We’re going to get into a more detailed description of what’s going on in the story, but the first thing I recognized immediately is that it was first person POV. I knew that going in, based on the number of Y/N jokes going around on twitter. Then I read it aloud, and I realized that it read like a letter. Like an experience specific to the writer and the reader. And while that’s not super uncommon to write about an experience from the author’s POV - I listen to a podcast called Nothing Much Happens: bedtime stories for adults which has a similar concept - I thought it was odd that they were trying to include both the author and the listener. I completely understood why the y/n jokes were pertinent. But at the same time, it felt like something had snagged in my mind - like a particularly annoying splinter.

The conversations I was having around this story - completely based on the content, concept, and my own instinct - was that this story contained specific references to one person. I thought that it did read like a love letter, and that most identifying features would have been taken out, but the essence remained. Which, once I thought about it, was something that H excelled at doing. Think about Sunflower Vol 6 and Adore You and Canyon Moon and even Watermelon Sugar and Golden. Ask yourself, What do I know about the person they are about? They have skin that browns, they have a secret, they have mesmerizing eyes, they’re willing to dance in the kitchen with him (to dancehall), they have a belly, they’ve been through hard times, they’re witty, they have an accent, and they have lips. I know - super specific right?

So the splinter grew into a thorn - what was I missing? And then - when I was looking for something completely different - I stumbled upon this old interview Harry did with Zach Sang and the Gang Show back in 2017. For context, he was being asked about Sweet Creature. As you can imagine, it’s hard for people to believe he wrote such a beautiful love song when he hadn’t ever really had a long term relationship (two hearts in one home?? Who did you move in with, you can imagine them asking. When did you have time?). So what did he have to say about this?

"In my opinion,” he explained, “I think most songs are written for one listener. Maybe there's one thing in there that only they'll notice about them.... It's so much easier to say something in a song than it is to say it to someone and I think it's really amazing to be able to communicate through that and be able to wrap up everything that you want to say in three and a half minutes and say it in a song."

- HS, May 3 2017

By this time, please believe that I was screeching. Seeing this felt like he put into words the exact feeling I had about “Dream With Me”. It felt like a nod to someone that I didn’t know, which made the story hard to listen to, tbh. Although, I will say that when I did finally listen to it, it knocked me out and gave me odd dreams so. Once was enough for me haha!

So my new operating theory is exactly what Advansun said: I think that H was the primary writer/the driving force behind the story. Because of the references I’m about to run through, because it feels like the way he tells stories, and because they admitted to him being more involved than they originally claimed. That’s going to be how I write the rest of the analysis - under the impression that H had a direct hand in the story that was being put forth. However, I think that the analysis itself would stand whether or not he wrote any of it. It would just be a more tenuous reflection of him than I believe it to be.

2.) How Do I Love Thee? In Two Ways.

Before I jump into the story, let’s talk a little about the poem that I want to compare it to: Two Loves, by Lord Alfred Douglas. Let’s be clear this is not at all a defense of who Bosie was - he was a terrible person, particularly in his later years, when he’d converted to Catholicism and turned his back on his younger self, and his partner, Oscar Wilde. He was violently anti-Semitic, and turned his back on his own community. I want to get this out of the way because I very much believe that we should examine artists for who they are. That is, after all, what I am trying to do here.

But his poem Two Loves has often been used - much to his disappointment, I’m sure - as an exploration of queer love in Victorian times. A line that I will be exploring more deeply in a second was in fact used against Oscar Wilde in his trail for indecency . He attempted - unsuccessfully - to explain it away, but it was too blatantly about their relationship for even the British Victorian society to ignore. I really, really recommend a read of this poem, because it is - despite it’s author - a good piece of work, which explores the themes of shame and love and longing between two men in that time.

I’m going to start with my own background, as someone who’s analyzed fandoms before. I first came across this poem in the Sherlock fandom, with this analysis by @the-7-percent-solution, when I was running in that fandom, and she explains the poem brilliantly in just a few lines. I’m going to take a little longer to run through it, but if you want a concise explanation and a brilliant meta, I encourage you to run to their blog and check it out. That fandom taught me most everything I know about catching symbols and recurring themes and “clueing for looks” and I love it desperately, still.

But we’re here to talk about this fandom, so on with the poem! Essentially, the poem outlines a dream the speaker had: In his dream, he’s standing in a field with flowers - beautiful ones of all kind - and he meets this young man with clear blue eyes and bright red lips and they kiss a bit and have a picnic, and it’s all lovely. If you think I’m kidding, I’m really not. Please, read it for yourself.

Anyways, after they did they did the whole picnic thing, the speaker and his date go on a walk in this field, where they come across two figures. The first is described as,

“...fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids And joyous love of comely girl and boy, His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy; And in his hand he held an ivory lute With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair, And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute, And round his neck three chains of roses were.”

- Two Loves, 1894

The speaker, however, was drawn to the second figure:

“He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight, And yet again unclenched, and his head Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death. A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold With the device of a great snake, whose breath Was fiery flame..”

- Two Loves, 1984

Of course, the speaker immediately asks the second man who he is. The second man says, “My name is Love”. The first man corrects him quickly:

“ He lieth, for his name is Shame, But I am Love, and I was wont to be Alone in this fair garden, till he came Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.”

-Two Loves, 1984

The second man sighs and acquiesces, “Have thy will. I am the love that dare not speak its name.”

It was, of course, this last line that really gave the meaning of the poem away. It was the line that was put to Oscar Wilde as proof of a romantic relationship, it was the line that went down in history as a way to refer to queer love, and it was the line that first stuck out to me when I was reading “Dream With Me”.

The reading here is clearly that “Love” is the love that is acceptable to society - easy, sweet, and cherished. “Shame” is the love that happens in secret - beautiful, alluring to the speaker, passionate, anxious ( as can be seen in the clenching and unclenching of his hands), and proud. He refuses to call himself as anything but what he is. The first man may call him Shame, but he refuses the name, and instead, offers a qualifier to his own descriptor. He is still love, he is just the love that can’t be spoken about.

3.) Walking in Golden Fields of Sunflowers

Now let’s talk about “Dream With Me”. I’m ignoring the first few stanzas (from the line “Have you ever wondered” to “What the two of us can find”.) because those are pretty standard introductory paragraphs to a guided meditation. So we start with the line “Let’s travel now to moonlit valleys...”.

I’m going to do the same thing I did with “Two Loves” first. I am going to describe literally, in general terms, what happens in the story. Warning, I change pronouns from “they” to “you” because the whole thing confuses me, but note that I’m always talking about the speaker and the listener:

So after doing the standard intro, the speaker and the listener take a walk through the woods enjoying nature, particularly the grass, the trees, and the blue sky above. You’re already clearly in love. Then you’re magically on a raft, with cherry blossoms all around you. If you want a good visual for that, here’s a site that has pictures from a boat rental in Tokyo where you can snuggle on a raft in the Chidorigafuchi moat. And then suddenly it starts raining, and they (you) watch the rain for a hot second, and then the scene magically shifts again, and you’re under a porch (although I guess it could be the boat rental’s porch. They do usually have covered areas).

Kind of furthering that theory, they then lounge by the shoreline, skipping stones and hanging out, looking at the snow capped mountains. In case you’re curious, because at this point I sure was, you can see mountains from certain areas in the city of Tokyo.

Anyways, then it’s snowing, and you’re magically in a cabin, just chilling by the fire, and you fall asleep again. You wake up somewhere else.

Where are you now? Well, you’re on a tropical island filled with palm trees. As an American, my mind immediately jumps to the Caribbean, but I suppose it could absolutely be in the Mediterranean as well. The island has white beaches, mangroves, a turquoise ocean, and a gorgeous, peaceful atmosphere.

If you’re curious as to what a mangrove looks like - and I certainly was - they are a group of trees and shrubs that live in the coastal intertidal zone and Jamaica is doing a massive restoration project involving primary school children to regrow this vital part of their ecosystem. More interestingly, there currently exist no mangrove forests in the Mediterranean, so my initial feeling that this scene would take place in the Caribbean was correct. On that note - again, because I was curious - Jamaica has gorgeous white sand beaches with turquoise oceans.

But I’ve gone off topic again! After you’re minds are “in tune” once more (trying to find a heartbeat, anyone?), you reappear in a meadow, with beautiful flowers of all kind, where you are now walking hand in hand through a field of sunflowers, which give the feeling a “warm and golden hue”. Then you come across a little farmhouse with daisies poking out (clearly I have no way of locating this anywhere in the world, but I assume that the UK has both sunflowers and daisies). It’s an empty house which was loved and left because of the passage of time, which inspires my favorite line in the poem: “ The thought of passing time inspires/A feeling that grows stronger”. It’s just...really sweet to me.

So, of course, they do what anyone would do when they come across an empty farmhouse, they go inside. And there, they begin to fall asleep, reflecting on all they have just seen, referencing other scenes of the poem: “ Moonlit valleys, Burdened forests, Gazing at the ocean. Summer meadows, Tranquil sunsets steeped in emotion”.

The next few stanzas are just going to be copy-pasted, and then I’ll go into them a bit, but this is the end of the poem, so they’re the final reflections;

“The tenderness we feel When we are close Two minds as one Surrounds us and connects us But we’ve only just begun.

For now we dream together Of all there is to follow. And know that sleep will keep us safe From now until tomorrow.

Maybe all the memories That we’ve gathered here tonight Are all dreams now remembered Or wishes in plain sight.

No matter what They’re with us now. For this night and forever. And every time we close our eyes They’re yours and mine to treasure.”

- HS, Dream With Me, via @carl-and-pearl

And that’s it! The literal story, in short, is that you started in a forest, then went to Tokyo (maybe) and then Jamaica (perhaps) and then back to a field of sunflowers and daisies in the UK (which is also a guess, it could be Italy or France or Idaho for all I know, but let’s call it an educated guess).

4.) My Dream Journal

So now that we know what happens in the story, how do we interpret this? Well, There are a few lines in the poem that I want to draw your attention to: the first takes place in the first part of this story, when you’re still in the forest. This is, I must say, the most direct reference to Two Loves in the whole poem/song/story. Both works are describing a walk in the woods with your loved one, and, in a fun reference in the middle of the story, Dream With Me says

The shimmering reflection Shows us smiling from above. But what we think But dare not speak is L-O-V-E love.

-Dream With Me, 2020

Remember that line I mentioned before? I am the love that dare not speak its name. Right, so that’s almost a direct quote. It also has a really fun nod to “I Would” (Would he say he’s in L-O-V-E?/Well if it was me then I would), but I digress.

This first part of the narrative, I feel, really sets up what the rest of it will look and feel like, in the same way that “Golden” sets the tone for Fine Line. (You didn’t think I was going to make a post about Harry and NOT mention Golden, did you?? If you did, I’m disappointed!!). So let’s take a look at what’s happening, and the language he’s using to describe it.

One of the best things about this poem is how vivid it feels. Of course, I’m about to argue that it’s vivid because it was based in reality, but let’s talk about the sheer amount of detail he uses to describe the place he’s walking through. The valley (canyon lmao) is moonlit, the grass and the leaves make mosaics of green, you’re walking by the heather (the symbolism of heather is good luck, admiration, and protection), the sepia sunlight breaks through the trees.

You know what it kind of sounds like? Sweet Creature. You’re about to roll your eyes at me! I can feel it! But listen, okay?

“Sweet creature Running through the garden Oh, where nothing bothered us But we're still young I always think about you and how we don't speak enough”

Which, to be honest, sounds like what they’re doing. They’re walking through the garden in the sun, not daring to speak about the Love that he (they both) feel, and instead refering to it in veiled Victorian terms.

And then we head to Tokyo! I know that you’re about to ask me why I think it’s Tokyo versus...idk, anywhere else? Well, for one, he went to Tokyo (to let it go) publicly in 2019. He was there for a few months, and there are some great pictures of that time:

Look! Here he is with his club owner friend and his dog, and a fun red bandanna! But let’s be honest, the dog really steals the show here. But wait! there’s more! More dog content, too!

This was on Jan 31st, 2019, and he’s taking the dog for a walk! Very cute! If nothing else, he spent a lot of time with dogs in Tokyo! And the city fits the description of the story. So I feel rather comfortable with my interpretation that this first date is a memory of this trip - or another - to Tokyo.

So what did “you both”do in Tokyo? Well, chill on a raft while the cherry blossoms flutter around you, clearly. You also refocused your purpose. What did he do in Tokyo in 2019? Well, he took time to think about and write songs for the album he was about to go record. Kind of like refocusing on what’s next, right? And then, in the story when “you both” had time to think amongst the lake and the water and the rain and the moon, and you’d come to the conclusions you needed to, you left. What did he do when he did the things he needed to? Well, he left, too.

And where did he go? Well, in real life, I suppose he went to do his job. But, in the story, you’re meant to be falling deeper and deeper into sleep, so it’s sort of like traveling backwards, you see? Like counting down to one. So you end up on this island with turquoise ocean and mangrove forests. I’m calling this Jamaica. Why? Well, the description fits, for one, down to the four types of mangroves that exists within its ecosystem.

And - probably the biggest reason - I can place him there, too. Here’s him in 2017:

I added this picture because the water around him....looks rather turquoise, doesn’t it? Kind of like he’s enjoying his time on a tropical island by the beach?? Oh, and here’s another one!:

The red bandanna makes a comeback!

So what are you doing in Jamaica, according to the story? Well, you’re hanging out, basically. Enjoying the beach and each other, of course! What else? To be exact, “[Your] thoughts dovetail and unify/ In tune two minds together”. I’m so glad that you’re tuned like an old guitar now! Congrats! Really happy for you!

What was he doing in Jamaica three years ago? Why, he was recording his first album, or so the story goes. I’ll tell you something: finding press for that album was literally the most difficult part of this whole analysis. I got a fair bit of the tattoo roulette with Kendall Jenner, and some things about Carolina, but the interview with Zach Sang took me like an hour and a half to find again to link. The fact that a lot of it has been buried is...not great, for posterity purposes. He’s going to want that one day.

But I’ve gotten off track again! We gotta go back and finish our story, right? What happens now? Well, this does:

hahahaha okay, I’m really sorry, but I had to. I’m not, actually, making it up though! According to the story:

“ As minutes turn to hours We drift off somewhere new. And visualize a stairway To a door we now walk through”

- Dream With Me, 2020

So maybe Louis was just...demonstrating for you.

Anyways! Where do you walk out to? A golden field full of sunflowers. You walk for a minute, then come across an old house with daisies popping up out of the garden. And that’s where the story ends. I guess you’ve made that farmhouse feel like home.

Now to the little reflection he does on the outro. The lines I want to bring your attention are: “The tenderness we feel when we are close two minds as one surrounds us and connects us but we’ve only just begun” and “Maybe all the memories that we’ve gathered here tonight are all dreams now remembered or wishes in plain sight.”

Let’s talk about the first sentence first. In the context of finding a home that could be a shared home, and a future, this is very much an “end of the story, beginning of our lives” sort of thing. You’re back from all over, and it’s time to settle down, and see what’s next.

And now the second sentence. I think this is the one that really drives my point about this story being a collection of memories he has - that’s what he calls it. The story is “gathered memories” that might also be called “remembered dreams” (think of how people say of vacations, “oh it was a dream!”) or you might call it “wishes in plain sight”. This feels in line with the rest of the story. In this stanza, he’s sort of letting you in a bit. If I’ve read this right - and I really think that I have - he’s giving the larger context for the story. It’s a collection of memories he’s had with someone he loves.

5.) Cool! Can you prove it?

I mean, I’d argue that if you read this far, I have proved it, but let’s make some more links, shall we? This was called a “muscial epic” that was “driven by him”. I’d argue that if I know my Victorian literature (thank you, Sherlock!), then he definitely does. Then there’s the fact that he quoted it, so. That did happen. And he knows what it means. And even if he didn’t, there were two other people on the story. Someone was more than capable of catching that one, and the fact that they didn’t speaks to intent. They want you to think of that phrase when you read this poem. They want you to think of that walk in the woods while you’re going on this one.

And, as for my assumption that this is for and about one person, well. Think about it. He said that he writes his songs for a single listener. I’m not saying it’s the same listener each time, let’s get that right, but it is always just for one person. With that, and with the assumption that he’s been involved in the writing of this story, I’d say that the same rule applies. He went with someone to Japan and Jamaica (J^2 haha). And, if I had to guess, it was the same person.

Why, you ask? Well, for one, if that weren’t the case, then this poem would no longer be for one listener, it would be for multiple. And, for another, imagine how awkward it would be to listen to it with his current partner and have to explain “oh, yeah that was the super romantic vacation I took with someone else” . And, I suppose that because I think that attitude of “refocusing” and “dovetailing” and “tuning” and getting excited about imagining all of the tomorrows with your partner speaks to a long term relationship breathing easily, you know?

I’m also going to argue that describing the aura around the house as “golden” was intentional, especially when paired with the location - in the middle of a field of sunflowers. Those are both direct references to his songs. And those two songs are particularly linked by the number 28. The third song that features 28 is Fine Line the song, but that’s a different story. Anywho! “Golden”’s bridge just repeats the word ‘golden’ twenty eight times (if you go here , you can count the bridge) and “Sunflower Vol. 6″ ends the song with 28 “boops” (believe me, I wish I was making this up. I’m not.). So then, once again, you’ve linked a story to two already linked songs.

And, even if you don’t buy the intentional repetition, they’re linked another way, aren’t they? The color scheme and the sun symbol. Sunflowers were named because of their sun-like appearance. They turn to face it. They symbolize loyalty and adoration. And then, of course, the sun is - say it with me - golden. And it - like the person in golden - waits in the sky, beautiful and dangerous and constant. And here that symbol is, in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. At home.

This whole story feels like you’re taking the time to find that heartbeat that you think you might have lost, and sort of coming back to a space where you understand that this is what you want, now and forever. It feels like finding a home that could be yours forever, and it feels like walking through some of the moments that remind him of that.

It really is rather lovely, if you think about it, especially since he has a tendency to attribute “home” to people rather than place, in his songs. So it’s like. Going all around the world and always being at home.

#harry styles #calm #dream with me #two loves #honestly man #im happy for you #but ewww #be less sappy please #i mean #SOME OF US DONT HAVE THAT YET HAROLD #hahahaha i think im funny #long post ts #idk how else to tag this but im really proud of it #okay now i'll do the penguin song #promise hahaha

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