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ehlnofay · 10 months ago

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Pax should have said no.

Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.

(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)

But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.

At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.

(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)

(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)

(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)

(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)

(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)

“Not hungry?�� says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.

He looks up.

At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.

She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”

Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”

“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.

It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?

(She knows why.)

The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”

The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.

Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.

There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.

“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.

It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.

Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.

“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)

I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?

It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.

“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”

Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.

In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”

They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”

(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)

Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”

Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.

“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?

Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”

Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.

Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”

“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”

(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)

(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)

The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”

“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”

A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.

Pax licks their teeth and takes it.

The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.

“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”

#for context - in my version of events sheogorath's recruitment of the HoK is a lot more active #it needs someone who can fulfill the metaphysical niche of the hero. it needs someone experienced enough that they might not even die tryin #and it needs someone desperate enough to take the deal #pax is fifteen years old has alienated everything that maybe could have been a support system and is grieving very badly.#perfect mantling material!!#so sheogorath pursued them very specifically and was very judicious about what they revealed when. which is why pax already has some kind o #relationship with it here - they've interacted before - in that for weeks pax's reflection has been constantly begging them to 'visit'#writing the interactions of these guys is a lot of fun because there is always so much sheogorath is keeping from pax. it is #extremely strategic in how it presents itself #and pax falls for it hook line and sinker. though we can't really blame them #it's hard to outsmart something that's in your head #and at this point pax is pretty much made up of their worst impulses #which sheogorath cannot and does not help with #see: this piece #“I would NEVER make you do something you don't want to do <3 if you'd like to go back to your miserable self-destructive hellscape that's #YOUR CHOICE. but wouldn't it be more fun to be regular destructive here... i made you brass knuckles... 🥺“#im obsessed with them #the elder scrolls #tesblr #tes #my writing #fay writes #oc tag #pax #oblivion #shivering isles #the shivering isles

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clonerightsagenda · 1 year ago

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It is Wolf 359 day (also known as Christmas for some) and since I saw a stoat photoset on my dash I feel compelled to post about daemon hcs.

Eiffel - Word of God is raccoon, and it fits. The poor thing probably looks like she has mange during the season 2/3 timeskip, since there's no way astronauts are stuffing their daemons in spacesuits - they must have to go through some kind of pre-mission training to lengthen their range. They are not trained to get blasted lightyears apart though, rip. That's gotta hurt. Once he's recovered from his ordeal though I'm sure he takes advantage of their massively extended range to cause problems. There's no way I stole those donuts from the Urania's stores, commander! I was here in the comms room the whole time.

Minkowski - white-tailed eagle. This bird is found in Poland, and some versions of the Polish flag have a white eagle. It's also similar to but not exactly like a bald eagle - showing how Minkowski aspires to assimilate into Americanness but can't completely abandon her Polish heritage. Plus pilot = bird, it tracks.

Hilbert - rosencrantz-draws-things did a series of daemon paintings for the characters and while I don't agree with all their choices, I did like chameleon for him. He changes roles and faces when he needs to, whatever helps him survive.

Lovelace - The painting series I referenced gives her lioness, which I don't hate, although the logistics are a bit messy for a space station environment. Given the backstory I've envisioned for her I kind of want to spend more time reading about Puerto Rican fauna and get back to you on this one. How does the daemon situation work with her being a surrogate? Unclear but it sure keeps her up at night!

Maxwell - Ferret! The wonder twins have mustelid vibes to me, and I am always charmed by the story of the ferret who cleaned out the tubing of a particle accelerator.

Jacobi - Stoat to match Maxwell. They are the mustelid twins now. It just feels right.

Kepler - idk I don't care about him.

Pryce - Coconut octopus. Something a little bit unusual and unexpected, requires specialized care and upkeep, and octopi are extremely intelligent, with this species actively modifying its situation via tool use. She can carry him around in his own special tank.

Cutter - I never settled (lol) on anything for him, but given I like the idea of him bodyhopping (this has been thoroughly debunked by Word of God but oh well) I imagine that he keeps around the old body's severed daemon as a smokescreen. This leads to a very animated, lively guy with a strangely inert, unfocused daemon which makes him even more unsettling to everyone. He's impossible to read.

Hera - I saved her for last because she's a special case. When AI reach sentience a block of code just pops up in their programming, and that's their daemon. They're not physical in the same way humans are - why would their soul be? However, product testing indicated humans preferred to see something daemonlike, so customer-facing AIs get holographic projections of cute, non-threatening animals like puppies or songbirds. Hera has a bird until Hilbert takes her offline. When she comes back, she has control over the projection and can make it look however she wants. It's not actually her daemon but she can use it to express herself in a similar way, including projecting her humansona, which scares the crap out of people the first few times they see a random stranger on board.

Daemons in microgravity would be their own headache. I imagine crewmembers get velcro pouches on their uniforms or toolbelts sized for their daemons to keep them from floating away. Smaller daemons are preferable in the same way that there's a height range for astronauts - this is why I'm conflicted about Lovelace. Also, you know I am a #hater of 'daemon touching = sex' in AU settings and believe there are multiple kinds of intimacy, and spaceflight involves everyone getting real cool about a lot of stuff real quickly, so I think by season 3 Minkowski and Eiffel at least are hanging on to each other's daemons when they're out on spacewalks both for convenience and emotional support. (Eiffel is still stressed out about it but more because he is really bad at holding a raptor and scared of getting slashed by talons.) Hera occasionally perches her projection on their shoulders which again doesn't mean the same thing to her but gets the message across. If Jacobi is working on something fiddly Maxwell will be wearing both their daemons around her neck, and vice versa.

Bob does not appear with a daemon while wearing his Eiffel suit. The alternative would probably be more upsetting.

#wolf 359

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maygrcnt · 10 months ago

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okay so I’ve really been thinking about tommy calling buck evan (irrationally thinking about it idk why it’s bothering me) bc why are they doing that? there has to be a reason bc I’d say all his past love interests have called him buck with maybe the odd evan thrown in there when the moment is serious. and technically we don’t get to see tommy and buck’s first interaction on screen bc they’re already in the helicopter when we first see them. and I was thinking chim would’ve obviously introduced eddie and buck to tommy and I would guess he would’ve said “hey this is eddie and this is buck” since that’s what they go by. like he wouldn’t use their government names lool. and then through out the helicopter journey everyone only referred to buck as buck so tommy know’s everyone calls him buck. like at this point does he even know his real name? I would guess not since everyone’s calling him buck. and then I was thinking when buck called tommy to set up the tour he most definitely introduced himself as “buck” since again, everyone was referring to him as “buck” on the helicopter. UNLESS buck said “hey Tommy it’s Evan Buckley - buck from the helipcopter…” BUT even then, it just doesn’t make sense why he’s calling him evan. like when eddie comes to the hangar, eddie calls him “buck” but again, they make it a point to have tommy call him Evan even after that. and they do this all the way through out the episode even though everyone else is calling him buck in the same moments!!! so why is tommy insisting on using his government name?! like ik he called chim “howie” but that makes sense since tommy knew chim as howie but with buck, he met him as buck!!! not as evan !! AND he’s calling Eddie “Eddie” and not edmundo so it’s clearly not that he doesn’t like nicknames Lmao. AND also, I find it weird that buck doesn’t correct him? like I dunno I just feel like he would? he’s corrected his parents in the past and when chim called him evan that one time he was like ???? and again, I understand he’s a love interest but his past LI’s didn’t even call him evan like that yet they had tommy drop evan like 50 times and for what??? has to be something right? I’m trying to think what exactly is could be but my best guess is the name thing will come up on the date or at some point and buck will tell tommy the origin of “buck” and why he isn’t called evan commonly and then maybe tommy will switch to buck?? Or maybe buck with let him call him evan ??? Idk but yeah the Evan thing has been keeping me up at night LOL pls help

big fan of how you went on such a journey there and didnt come to a conclusion because relatble. heres where my head is at personally and stick with me because im gonna start in a strange place

so this show isnt a stranger to name symbolism, natalia literally means birth or rebirth. so buck dating the girl whos name means fresh start after he DIES makes sense, but in a sort of insane irony way i think the death of that relationship was actually supoosed to be the "rebirth" in a sense

and since hes being given this "clean slate" (to throw us back to the last breakup because bucktaylor breakup is literally one of my fav scenes ever) theyre starting us off in a territory we've never been in by showing us through the most prominent symbolism possible. this one seems different because it IS different, and heres one thing this LI is doing that no other LI did, just to prove it.

I do think the other effect of this choice though is that is DOES make us uncomfortable. thats not a name that gets thrown around lightly so to hear it roll off someones tongue like its an everyday occurance rightfully makes us a little apprehensive. I think it could be a clever storytelling technique so as to say this is something that seems looks and feels really good on the surface, but they are throwing in that one little element that provides us with a little unease so that we dont get too comfortable sitting here.

#this is just my analysis which is coming from a buddie only shipper #if i put myself in the mindset of a multi or other shipper i could definitely write a counterargument about how tommy calling him evan #actually proves that this is the most comfortable hes ever been in a relationship and its supposed to show us how free and at ease he is #its all about perspective and this is mine!#911 abc

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shirefantasies · 10 months ago

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Hello! I’m new to Tumblr, your blog was one of the first I found and followed! I was wondering if you could match/ship/pair me with an LotR character! Specifically LotR if you end up getting around to me, please!

I’m 5’3” with dark hair, though I keep it shaven in a buzz cut style. I’m pansexual, so you can ship me with anyone. I’m also autistic and possibly ADHD and OCD. Still learning about myself and trying to get diagnoses and people that understand me.

Moving on! I’m rather goofy! I’ve got a silly, meme-like side to me that I have trouble restraining. I’ll constantly see references to memes/obscure things I like everywhere and always point them out. I also make random noises and jokes that only those close to me will understand or be able to interpret the meaning of. I’m a good listener, and always try to help solve problems, though I may not be too good at getting the end result where it needs to be. Hahaha! I like to cuddle people, though I’m a little picky with touch because of sensory issues.

As for the other side of me, I am very paranoid, and have anxiety, severe depression, and PTSD, so it’s hard for me to trust people. I’m introverted, too. I always have been but ever since the trauma that caused my mental health issues I’ve become extremely introverted, almost in a comical way. I have some self-hate based behaviors towards myself that I’m working on unlearning. I constantly need reminded to take care of myself, and will have unexpected breakdowns, depression lows, or flashbacks. There are things or actions that will upset/trigger me that may need to be avoided. It’s rough but I still try my best to please everyone.

I hope that’s enough, if it’s not you can always contact me directly for more info or with questions! Thanks for considering!

Well that’s such an honor! Glad to be an early addition to your tumblr family 🥰 heck yeah you can have a lord of the rings character, and I hope you like being a hobbit because because I ship you with…

Pippin!

Sometimes it feels like no one understands him. So when Pippin hears tales of some far-off hermit, he feels a strange kinship with them immediately knowing only that they are the subject of talk, too. Maybe they’ve disappointed people with ways they cannot help, too. Pippin, though, could never run away from people- he loves them too much, enough to try again and again until he gets it right. He doesn’t know why he is the way he is, after all. He just is. Isn't everybody?

He gets lost one day, lost further out in the edges of the hills then he's been yet. Not quite far enough to be frightened, but just enough to see the waning of the hobbit-holes and the thinning of the Shire's green hills. It isn't until the sun descends that he truly gets concerned, rushing to the nearest hole he finds and ringing the bell dangling by its big round door. You answer, looking quite puzzled and not entirely unafraid of the stranger before you. What do you say? "Er, can I help you?" "Well," he begins, "I'm lost, you see. Can I trouble you to stay the night before I return to the road?" Silence overtakes you, ponderance, glances this way and that, before you finally nod and bid him entry. "You've not come to report to the others, have you now?" "I beg your pardon?" "Back in town. All the rumors. Part of why I avoid it, not that it helps them," you shake your head. That is when Pippin realizes he's found his kindred hermit, and you are nothing like he imagined. Contrary to the stories, he thinks there's something about you that looks...friendly.

"You're the-!" Barely resisting the urge to exclaim 'hermit', Pippin glances around your mostly quite normal hobbit hole. "Erm, I always wondered why they told all those stories." "Because they're a fat lot of gossips, that's why," you shoot back, shuffling through your kitchen, "they aren't exactly the champions of anyone who's...different." "That I know," Pippin responds with a nod, voice going a bit quiet. His words have you turning around, peering at him like you've only just seen him. "I see. Well, want anything?" In the end, you share some of your dinner with this stranger, who tells you his name is Peregrin Took, more frequently called Pippin. Pippin doesn't mock the sounds you make, in fact you notice that he seems to find himself mimicking them. As you go through the evening's motions, he doesn't seem to mind that you have your way of doing things. When something you see reminds you of a song you made up, you can't help but sing it, and soon Pippin is joining along. You even make up a song together. When he leaves, you find yourself saying something very uncharacteristic: "If you ever want to come back, well, I'll be here." Something in his smile, the way he nods, has you feeling strangely hopeful.

Come back he does, and sing more songs to and with you in that beautiful voice he does. You're ready for him to recoil, to pack up and leave you behind like everyone else does when he catches a nightmare turning to a breakdown, but as he peers in the doorway he simply asks if he can touch you, hold your hand or even you. When he stays, helps you with breakfast and cheers at your smile, twirling you across the kitchen, well, you can't help feeling a rare peace at your little paradise getting a bit bigger.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #lotr matchups #pippin #pippin x reader #ask #autisticgenderworm #requested #matchup monday

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s666j · 6 months ago

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009 | freedom

19-D until Olympics.

“So… we’re, uh, together here,” Mark said, breaking the silence. His eyes flickered around the room, avoiding Haechan’s gaze. “This is… weird, right?”

Haechan let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, definitely weird. I didn’t exactly plan on waking up to find out I have a boyfriend I’ve never met before.”

They shifted uncomfortably, the reality of their situation settling over them like a heavy fog. The previous night had been a whirlwind of confusion, trying to understand their new roles and navigate the intricacies of their identities in this universe.

“I guess we need to figure out how to act around everyone else,” Haechan suggested, glancing at the photos on the wall depicting moments from this universe’s life—moments he hadn’t experienced but now had to pretend to know.

Mark nodded, his expression thoughtful but strained. “Yeah, probably. We should, um, act normal. Pretend like nothing’s changed, even though everything has.”

Their conversation was punctuated by awkward pauses, each grappling with the strange new dynamic between them. They were supposed to be partners here, but in reality, they were strangers, each unsure of how to proceed.

“So, what’s the plan?” Haechan asked, breaking the silence that had stretched between them, his voice laced with underlying tension.

Mark hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this unfamiliar territory. “Maybe we should skip classes today. We need time to adjust, and I don’t think I can focus on anything right now.”

Haechan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, sounds good. I wouldn’t even know where to start with classes in this world.”

They decided to take the day off, choosing instead to explore the campus. Every step felt like walking through a dream, each interaction a carefully orchestrated performance as they attempted to learn more about their new lives. They spoke to people they didn’t know but had to pretend to recognize, piecing together fragments of their new identities from overheard conversations and casual interactions.

Despite their awkwardness, they began to form a tentative alliance, united by their shared predicament. The strangeness of their situation made it difficult to connect, but they knew they had to rely on each other to navigate this new world.

“I guess we should try to learn as much as we can about who we’re supposed to be here,” Mark suggested, his voice thoughtful but edged with uncertainty.

“Yeah, like a crash course in living someone else’s life,” Haechan replied, a hint of humor softening his tone.

They spent the morning walking through the quad, watching as students streamed past, absorbed in their own worlds. The sky was a brilliant blue, a stark contrast to the storm of confusion that raged within them. Each moment felt like a stolen glance into a life they didn’t own.

Haechan noticed Mark’s occasional glances at his surroundings, the way his eyes lingered on the small details of the world around them. It was as if Mark were seeing everything for the first time, each sight and sound a new discovery. It made Haechan wonder just how different Mark’s world had been—how limited his experiences were compared to this.

Haechan himself felt strangely exposed, aware of how different his upbringing had been. Years of training had instilled in him a sense of discipline and focus that left little room for spontaneity or socializing. He had always lived a life of structure, every moment accounted for, every action measured. This world, with its freedom and unpredictability, was foreign to him.

They continued their exploration, the campus unfolding before them like a map they were struggling to decipher. Haechan found himself scrutinizing the faces they passed, trying to memorize names and stories, piecing together a narrative that made sense.

The afternoon passed in a blur as they adjusted to their new environment. Just as they began to feel slightly comfortable, a knock on the door interrupted their musings. Haechan opened it to find Jaemin, grinning broadly.

“Hey, you two! Are you coming to the party tonight?” Jaemin asked, excitement radiating from him. “It’s going to be epic, and you guys can’t miss it!”

Haechan exchanged a quick, awkward glance with Mark. Attending a party felt daunting given their situation, but it was an opportunity to learn more about their lives here.

“Yeah, sure,” Haechan replied, trying to sound natural, his voice steady even as anxiety twisted in his gut. “We’ll be there.”

Jaemin clapped him on the back. “Awesome! It starts around nine. See you then!”

As the evening approached, Haechan felt a growing sense of apprehension. Parties were common in Universe A, but the thought of pretending to be someone else in a social setting was nerve-wracking. He watched Mark as they got ready, noticing the tension in his movements, the way his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his clothes.

“You okay?” Haechan asked, attempting to sound casual but failing to mask the concern in his voice.

Mark hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just… trying to get used to all this. It’s weird.”

Haechan managed a small smile, trying to inject some levity into the situation. “Tell me about it. But maybe the party will help. We can learn more about the people here.”

Mark offered a weak smile in return, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

When they arrived at Jaemin’s apartment, the party was already in full swing. Music pulsed through the air, and laughter filled the rooms. Mark looked around with wide eyes, taking in the scene with a mix of awe and nervousness. It was overwhelming, this sudden immersion into a life that felt so vibrant and alive.

“Let’s grab a drink,” Mark suggested, making his way to the makeshift bar in the kitchen, his voice barely audible over the music.

Haechan followed, watching as Mark poured himself a drink, then another, as if trying to relax in the unfamiliar setting. The atmosphere was intoxicating, a sharp contrast to the sterile confines of the hospital he was used to in Universe B. It was a world he’d only glimpsed through screens and stories, a reality that had seemed so distant.

As the night wore on, Mark’s inhibitions seemed to dissolve with each drink. He laughed loudly, dancing with abandon, and talked animatedly with people he had only just met. The alcohol fueled his desire to embrace this new world fully, to live a life he’d only dreamed of.

Haechan, on the other hand, remained reserved, his disciplined nature making it difficult to let go and enjoy the moment. He watched Mark with growing unease, feeling the tension between them start to build. Every laugh, every wild gesture, was a reminder of how different they were, how out of sync.

Years of training had prohibited Haechan from enjoying a normal social life. His schedule had been filled with rehearsals, practices, and performances, leaving little room for parties or the carefree laughter of youth. He had always been focused on achieving perfection, on meeting expectations, and now, in this world where he was supposed to be free, he felt more confined than ever.

“Mark, maybe you should slow down,” Haechan suggested gently, trying not to sound too controlling, but the edge of worry in his voice was unmistakable.

Mark waved him off, a wide grin on his face, eyes bright with a reckless glee. “Come on, Haechan! We’re supposed to be having fun. Just let me enjoy this, okay?”

Haechan’s frustration bubbled inside as he watched Mark continue to drink and party. In Universe B, Haechan was used to discipline and focus, and seeing Mark so reckless was unsettling. It was as if Mark were trying to make up for lost time, each moment a desperate grasp at the freedom he’d never known.

Their friends began to notice the tension. Jaemin approached them, concern etched across his features. “Hey, is everything okay with you guys? You seem a little… off tonight.”

Haechan forced a smile, trying to brush off the concern. “Yeah, we’re fine. Just a long day,” he replied, but the words felt hollow, a thin veneer over the truth.

But the truth was harder to hide. Mark’s antics were drawing attention, and the awkwardness between them was palpable. As Mark stumbled over to them, his words slurred, Haechan felt his patience snap.

“Mark, seriously, you need to stop,” Haechan said, his voice sharper than he intended, frustration bleeding through despite his efforts to remain calm.

Mark blinked at him, a mixture of confusion and defiance in his eyes. “Why are you being like this? I just want to live a little.”

Haechan’s frustration flared, fueled by the differences between them and the weight of their new reality. “Living a little doesn’t mean losing control.”

The argument simmered between them, a silent acknowledgment of how out of sync they were in this world. Jaemin watched them, his concern deepening as he sensed the discord between his friends.

As the night deepened, Mark’s drunkenness became more pronounced. He leaned against the wall, laughing at nothing in particular, eyes glazed over with a mixture of happiness and melancholy. It was a bittersweet sight, this glimpse into a life unfettered by illness, and yet so fragile.

“Mark, you’re really drunk,” Haechan said, trying to steer him away from the crowd and toward a quieter corner, his voice filled with a mix of concern and irritation.

Mark giggled, his movements unsteady. “I know. Isn’t it great? I’ve never been this free before.”

Haechan sighed, frustration and concern battling within him. “We need to get you home.”

“No! I’m not done yet,” Mark protested, pulling away and stumbling back toward the party, where the music thumped louder, a chaotic heartbeat that matched his own.

Haechan hesitated, torn between the urge to let Mark have his moment and the responsibility of keeping him safe. As he watched Mark trip over his own feet and fall into a chair, the decision was made for him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Haechan said firmly, moving to help Mark up. “We’re leaving.”

Mark pouted, but he didn’t resist as Haechan guided him through the crowded room. Their friends watched them go, confused and concerned by the uncharacteristic tension. It was a silent departure, marked by the unspoken understanding that something had shifted between them.

Once outside, the cool night air hit them like a splash of water. Mark swayed on his feet, leaning heavily on Haechan as they made their way back to the dorm.

“Why are you so serious all the time?” Mark mumbled, his words slurring together, each syllable a struggle. “Life’s too short for that.”

Haechan sighed, struggling to hold back his annoyance. “I know, but we’re in this together, and we need to be careful. People are going to notice if we act too different.”

Mark was silent for a moment, then muttered, “I just wanted to know what it felt like.”

Haechan’s heart softened as he realized the depth of Mark’s desire to experience life beyond the confines of illness. “I get it. But there’s a time and a place, Mark.”

The walk back to the dorm was quiet, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city at night. Haechan supported Mark as they made their way across campus, careful to avoid the few other students who were still out and about. The cool night air seemed to have a sobering effect on Mark, though he remained unsteady on his feet.

Once they reached the dorm room, Haechan guided Mark inside, helping him sit on the bed. Mark let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to focus his bleary eyes.

“Thanks,” Mark muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion and alcohol. “For getting me out of there.”

Haechan gave a small nod, sitting down on the edge of his own bed across the room, maintaining a deliberate distance. “No problem. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything you’d regret.”

Mark chuckled softly, the sound tinged with bitterness. “Regret. Yeah, got plenty of that already.”

Haechan glanced at him, unsure of how to respond. Despite the vulnerability Mark was showing, Haechan felt a strong pull to remain detached. He was disciplined, used to focusing on what was necessary and logical, and he struggled with the emotional weight of Mark’s situation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Haechan asked, keeping his tone neutral, offering the option without pushing.

Mark was silent for a moment, staring at his hands. Then he began to speak, his voice low and raw. “I’ve been sick for a long time. Cancer. It’s… it’s been a part of my life for years now.”

Haechan listened, nodding slightly but maintaining his emotional distance. “That sounds really tough,” he said, his voice calm but lacking the warmth that might invite deeper connection.

Mark nodded, his gaze distant as he continued. “I used to be so full of dreams, you know? Had all these plans for my life. But then… everything just stopped. The hospital became my world.”

Haechan watched him, feeling a flicker of sympathy but unsure how to express it. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he offered, still keeping his emotions in check.

Mark continued, seemingly needing to unburden himself. “It was like being in a cage, watching the world move on without me. I missed out on so much… so many things I’ll never get to do.”

Haechan nodded again, recognizing the depth of Mark’s pain but struggling to let down his own barriers. His disciplined nature kept him from fully engaging with the emotional intensity of Mark’s story.

“And now… now I’m here,” Mark said, gesturing vaguely around the room. “In this life where I can walk and breathe without pain, where I’m not constantly reminded of how fragile everything is.”

Mark looked at Haechan, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desperation. “I just wanted to feel alive, even if it was just for a night.”

Haechan nodded, understanding the desire but unsure how to respond. “I get it,” he said simply, acknowledging Mark’s experience without opening himself up too much.

The room fell into silence, the weight of what had been shared hanging between them. Haechan felt a mix of respect and discomfort, aware of the challenges Mark had faced but still holding himself at arm’s length.

“Thanks for listening,” Mark said eventually, his voice quieter now, more sober.

“Sure,” Haechan replied, his tone still reserved. “We’re in this together, so… it’s fine.”

Mark nodded, seeming to accept Haechan’s detached support. “Yeah. Together.”

As Mark lay back on the bed, finally succumbing to sleep, Haechan remained seated for a while, reflecting on everything he had learned. The distance between them remained, a reminder of how different they were and the challenges they faced in this new world.

They were two strangers thrown together by fate, navigating a world that was both familiar and alien. And for now, that would have to be enough.

After ensuring Mark was safely tucked into bed, Haechan quietly left the room. He needed space to think, to clear his mind of the tangled mess of emotions that had built up over the course of the night. The air in the dorm felt stifling, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid between him and Mark.

The night was cool and quiet as Haechan stepped outside, the campus bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. He felt a familiar itch in his muscles, a restless energy that had no outlet in this new world. Back home, he’d often run late at night, pushing himself until his legs ached and his mind was blessedly clear. It was a ritual, a way to keep the doubts and fears at bay. But now, in this unfamiliar body, the ritual felt almost impossible.

His thoughts drifted to the Olympics in Beijing, looming on the horizon like a specter. The pressure was immense, a constant reminder of what he was supposed to be working towards. Every day that passed without training was a day lost, a day closer to failure. The stakes were incredibly high—not just for his career, but for his identity as an athlete.

Without the usual tools at his disposal—no phone to check in with coaches, no familiar routines—Haechan felt adrift. The idea of running through campus was appealing, a way to reclaim some semblance of normalcy. But as he took the first tentative steps, his muscles protested, sluggish and unfamiliar. It was as if his body had forgotten how to move, how to respond to the demands he placed upon it.

Frustration bubbled within him, sharp and bitter. He pushed harder, forcing his legs to move faster, willing them to remember the rhythm and power they once had. But it was no use. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat out of sync. It felt wrong, all wrong, and the realization hit him like a blow.

He slowed to a stop, bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Anger and despair warred within him, a toxic mix that left him trembling. How was he supposed to compete in the Olympics like this? How could he face his coaches, his teammates, with nothing to show for all those years of work?

Haechan sank to the ground, the cold earth seeping through his clothes. He buried his face in his hands, feeling the hot sting of tears he refused to shed. The weight of his situation pressed down on him, heavy and relentless. He was trapped in a life that wasn’t his own, with a body that wouldn’t listen, and a future that seemed to slip further from his grasp with each passing day.

The dreams he’d held onto for so long—the podium, the medals, the moment of triumph—seemed impossibly distant, as if belonging to another person entirely. How could he reconcile who he was meant to be with the reality of who he was now?

In the stillness of the night, Haechan felt the full force of his isolation. He was alone, truly alone, in a world that didn’t know him, didn’t understand what he was fighting for. And that loneliness cut deeper than any failure ever could.

He stayed there for a long time, letting the night envelop him, his thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and longing. The Olympic dream was still there, a flicker of hope amid the darkness, but it felt fragile, as if it could be extinguished at any moment.

Eventually, Haechan forced himself to stand, but the strength he usually felt after a run was absent. He was left with nothing but a hollow ache in his chest and the knowledge that the path to the Olympics, to his old life, seemed farther away than ever. There was no comfort in the night air, no clarity in his thoughts. Just an overwhelming sense of loss and a future as uncertain as the world he now found himself in.

As he made his way back to the dorm, the weight of reality pressed heavily on him. There were no answers, no reassurances. Only the chilling thought that the life he had known, the life he had worked so hard to build, might never be his again.

With each step, the realization settled deeper in his bones: he was adrift, without a map, without a compass, in a life that wasn’t his own. And as he lay back down, listening to Mark’s even breathing in the dark, he knew that sleep would bring no solace, only the inescapable truth of his predicament.

#nct dream #haechan #mark lee #markhyuck au #mahae au #nct #nct 127 #donghyuck #lee donghyuck

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byler-invested · 6 days ago

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Started ugly crying (like this: 😭) by the “99/100 timeline” section.

So, so well explained and exactly what I’ve also been envisioning Mike and Will’s real story actually is.

The Henry/1/Vecna -> HIV connection is insane. Somehow I had NEVER noticed it before omfg.

I still think, though, that there is a real sci-fi element to all of this show. It’s officially classified as Science Fiction as one of its main genres. It was named Stranger Things and the word “Strange” has long and famously been associated to science and science fiction in multiple ways and contexts. We also have to consider the fact that the show’s concept needs to be replicable into future spin-offs and an entire fictional universe.

So in that sense, I’m not entirely sure that Stranger Things is only about figurative or metaphorical storytelling. I feel like the One timeline out of 100 will actually be made to happen in real life, through Mike’s will (pun intended) and some kind of scientific or technological factor that is going to be Stranger Things’s main lore conceptual trademark.

They have a history of breaking stereotypical tropes and subverting expectations. Therefore I imagine they will initially make us think that Byler has a tragic ending (like gay and LGBTQ+ stories usually have), to then subvert that and actually create a happy(er) ending for them. This would serve the purpose of educating the audience about how human mindset and society and free will actually have the power to create better outcomes in life.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Mike was written as a nerdy intelligent kid who knows computer languages. Or that multiple other characters are versed in various science fields. Or that Stranger Things as a whole has a huge focus on science topics.

That being said, we can only truly know whenever s5 officially drops its final episode. AMAZING theory and post! 🌟🌈💔

As an extra, and to further prove all the connections in the show, I wanted to leave this (heartbreaking) HIV/AIDS info below:

I especially recommend everyone checks out Ryan White’s story in more detail, because the similarities and references are INSANE.

The Nested Universes Theory

and the high chance of a very literal bitter/sweet ending…

Yes, Will and Mike will end up together, but their ending may be both happy and tragic simultaneously.

(This theory may explain why the cast and Netflix executives were crying heavily when informed of the show’s ending…)

I'm warning you guys, take care of yourself while reading this. This isn't an easy read.

CW: CSA, sex, drugs, HIV/AIDS, period typical homophobia, death

Framed Narratives/Stories

Framed narratives are basically a story within a story. Common examples of this are the movie “The Princess Bride” and “Titanic”. Both stories have the story of the narrator and the story within.

Another example is Stranger Things itself. When we see the boys playing Dungeons and Dragons, they are creating a story within a story.

Sometimes, framed narratives are nested, meaning multiple layers of storytelling. An example of this would be the movie “Inception”. In that movie there are dreams within dreams within dreams… It’s a complex but fascinating way to tell stories.

Now, I do think Stranger Things is also a nested narrative story. Meaning, there may be a layer of a story that hasn’t been revealed to us yet (or more than one).

Basically I’m saying: the show itself may be a story created by some of the characters.

I’m guessing two characters in particular. Which two characters? The two most associated with creating stories. The writer and artist. Two of the characters that have existed since the show’s inception.

Mike and Will.

Multiple Universes

I do think there are multiple timelines/universes within Stranger Things… but it’s not exactly what you think. It’s not parallel universes/timelines. They do not exist parallel to each other, they exist within each other.

This is the reason for the “memory within a memory”, “play within a play” references.

It’s a story within a story within a story.

While Mike and Will are creating their DnD campaigns, there is another version of Mike and Will creating the story we see within the show.

Let’s break it down:

Inner layer: Mike and Will’s characters existing within a DnD campaign

Middle layer: Mike and Will within the show creating the DnD campaign

Outer layer: Mike and Will creating the story of the show

Mike and Will’s story within the frame (the outer layer) likely does share a lot in common with the story within the show, with one major difference:

There’s no Upside Down, and no supernatural elements. No superpowers, and no superheroes. There are still monster(s) and heroes, but these monsters and heroes are real.

Living on as “Heroes”

Ever notice the association between characters being referred to as “a hero” after facing their demise?

We have seen this time and time again. It’s not a coincidence, it’s a pattern.

Love for horror and escapism

@threemanoperation has a great post on Will’s love for horror.

It makes perfect sense for a boy like Will to enjoy horror. It can be a great way to process trauma and grief.

We also know even from the earliest descriptions for Mike and Will’s characters that they both love to “escape” into fantasy. They do this together, through DnD.

Gods/Puppet Masters/Creators

Within the show, there are many subtle nods to Will and Mike somehow controlling/manipulating things. These hints have lead to many interesting theories about Mike and/or Will having powers. In a sense, they both are absolutely right! But if this theory is correct, their influence over the show is mainly due to them creating it. They’re the authors, so in a way, they’re both “Gods”.

Solving the “Letter to Willy”/Lettergate puzzle

"Letter to Willy" is a song that plays over three different scenes within ST4. Each scene involves regrets, and survivor's guilt.

Max mourns Billy and reads out her letter "before it's too late" aka before she dies too.

Mike and Will have a heart-to-heart and Mike expresses guilt over El leaving, thinking there was more he could have done. This occurs while they are burying a dead man's body.

Dustin tells Eddie's uncle that Eddie died a hero, despite what the town thought.

This all leads back to Mike and Will within the story's outer layer. This also connects with the writer's incomplete letter they posted years ago on Twitter. I'll get back to this.

A father infecting his child

Oh boy. I hate this part but it requires context so…

Hopper admits to indirectly causing the death of his daughter, Sarah. He had been exposed to Agent Orange which led to his daughter developing cancer at a young age. He has remorse and has been grieving Sarah this whole time.

Now, Hopper is a decent guy and father, and is written as an almost “fix it” version of Mike and Will’s own fathers. He isn’t perfect, but he’s a man who strives to grow and improve himself.

Papa, is not a decent guy, and we also see him injecting El and Henry with needles.

So, what I’m saying is that this may be a hint to what happened to Will (in the 99/100 timeline). Lonnie is hinted to be a drug user, and it wouldn’t be far fetched to say he may have used IV drugs. Exposure to IV drugs is a way to transmit diseases, as blood may be exchanged through contaminated needles. Also, Lonnie has been hinted at, through subtext, to be a horrible monster. (<- click that link for a post about him.)

The “1/100” Timeline

The show itself is the 1 out of 100 timeline. It is the only one where Will was not kidnapped by his parent/guardian (Lonnie).

This means, it is the one where none of the tragic stuff ever happened, specifically to Will and Mike’s story at least. They may encounter challenges, but nothing they cannot overcome together, as a team.

1983: The Demogorgon got Will. He survives the horrors done to him in the Upside Down… but barely. He is taken to the hospital and heals from it all, including flu-like symptoms (cough, nausea/vomiting).

1984: Will suffers from flashbacks. He is also plagued with the nickname “Zombie Boy” and suffering from the Mind Flayer’s possession of him. But with the love of his family, and Mike, is able to return back to his reality.

1985: He then begins to struggle with the pressures of growing up, and having to move away. Plus the Mind Flayer returns and reeks more havoc.

1986: He then moves to a pleasant place. Where things are sunny and warm. Things on the surface seem happy and “normal” but there’s a looming threat hidden beneath the surface. Henry/1/Vecna. This opportunistic threat preys on the weak and begins to take over Hawkins.

1987-1989: Will is back in Hawkins and his ties to the Upside Down increase. He can’t shake it off as easily as before. He also can’t shake off his love for Mike, who grows even closer to him. One thing leads to another and they become lovers (they have sex). They eventually are able to stop the contamination of Hawkins, and save everyone. Will also realizes that he has developed superpowers from his time in the Upside Down, through his blood. Mike also develops superpowers, given to him by Will.

Okay… you might understand where I’m going with this but I still must warn you before reading the next part. It’s devastatingly tragic.

The “99/100” Timeline

(I’m probably wrong on some of these details but this is what I theorize thus far):

1983: Lonnie “got” Will (CSA). Will survives the horrors done to him by his father… but barely. He is taken to the hospital and heals from it all and from flu-like symptoms (cough, nausea/vomiting).

1984: Will suffers from flashbacks. He is also plagued with the nickname “Zombie Boy” and suffering from the flashbacks of his father’s possession of him. But with the love of his family, and Mike, is able to return back to reality.

1985: He then begins to struggle with the pressures of growing up. Plus the memories of Lonnie return and reek more havoc.

1986: Things on the surface seem happy and “normal” but there’s a looming threat hidden beneath the surface. HIV -> AIDS. Opportunistic infections slowly begin to prey on Will.

1987-?: Will can’t shake off colds and infections as easily as before. He also can’t shake off his love for Mike, who grows even closer to him. One thing leads to another and they become lovers (they have sex). Will soon discovers he has HIV/AIDS, which he had transmitted to Mike. Devastated by the news, they do everything they can to fight it together. They cope through creating a DnD campaign together to process everything they’ve gone through. They play DnD in Mike’s basement until Will’s condition becomes critical. Will is forced to stay in the hospital, while Mike is unable to visit (strict rules about visitation due to the disease and because they aren’t/cannot be considered legal partners). So, Mike does the only thing he can do: he writes letters to Will and continues the story. Mike eventually loses Will, for real this time. He’s devastated, and plagued with grief, depression, and survivor’s guilt. He didn’t complete their story in time. But his family and friends support him and encourage him to finish the story. To change the ending before his time runs out too. He completes their story himself, and reads his final letter to Will’s grave.

“anyway I think you’ll like [the ending]. sorry I couldn’t get it done [on time] but you mean so [much to me] and it’s been [so hard being without you] hope this is [enough to] last until [we meet again]. Love, [Mike].”

Attached to this letter is the full campaign. The full story of the show itself, which started on November 6th, 1983. He successfully turned back the clock, and changed their ending. They became superheroes within their story, saving Hawkins with their love. Mike dies soon after and we are met with…

Mike and Will reuniting within their own story. Blue meeting yellow at a gate, one final time, that leads “into the west”.

They continue their story and it’s a never ending story… Living on as heroes, forever and ever.

Some thoughts:

To simplify things, I didn’t include other characters much here but they likely all play an important role in the story. Many characters likely only exist within the mid layer (the 1/100 timeline).

I do think their story likely will be published, and this will be done by another character (my guess is Lucas). Their story will impact others profoundly, perhaps completely altering perspectives. This will lead towards positive change, and increase pressure for the development of a “cure”.

Lonnie obviously dies too, but we won’t see it. He’s significant but irrelevant. We don’t need to see him. Perhaps he rots in jail.

If characters like Nancy, Jonathan, Joyce, and Hopper all exist within the outer layer (the 99/100 timeline) in a similar way, they too may be inflicted with HIV/AIDS. Remember, it wasn’t just gay men, everyone was affected by this awful epidemic.

The time period is super relevant in this story. There’s no way that HIV/AIDS will not play an important role. Think about it… it revolves around two gay boys growing up during that time. This epidemic was widespread and terrifying. Had they been born a decade later, there would have been treatments/“cures” accessible to them.

The biggest reason why I strongly believe this theory is because… this is basically the ending of Stranger Things season 1, on a much grander scale. Think about it. Mike changed the ending of the DnD campaign so Will could be a hero, not a victim. This was further established in the comics.

While Mike and Will within the outer layer (99/100) have a tragic ending, Mike and Will within the show (1/100) do not. They beat the odds. Although it is undeniably a tragic end, remember that somewhere out there Mike and Will are still playing DnD and Nintendo for the rest of their lives.

Free Will and Writing your Own Ending

Free will has always been a reoccurring theme within Stranger Things; meaning we can choose our own destiny, fight chance, and beat the odds.

Do we truly have free will though? Obviously, we don’t know. The point is, we should still live life as if we do have it. To take control where we can, and not let external forces dictate who we are and what our destiny is. I think that’s the message there.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years ago

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A Glitch in the Matrix

This is a Shroud brothers age swap AU that I’ve been wanting to write for a long time!!

Idia basically has the same backstory (except Ortho is the dead older brother and Idia is just a bratty like… 10 year old) 😂 This model of Ortho is significantly older (think late teen) because I’m operating under the assumption that kid!Idia built a version of his brother “grown up” so he can have the experience of growing up with him. Slightly different coping method than the OG, but I thought this would be something cute and silly to explore.

Young children are notoriously known for being brutally honest and lacking a filter, so kid!Idia is even sassier than OG!Idia. As for adult!Ortho, I kept him being sneaky, but I also made him super big brotherly!

This is meant to take place during episode 1 of the main story (more specifically, the scene when Trey is explaining the different dorms to Yuu and co)! ^^ Yes, the joke is that Diasomnia’s introduction is forgotten about because they get caught up on Ignihyde—

Imagine this…

“Hey, who are those guys?” Grim pointed at the far end of the cafeteria. “They feel kinda different from everyone else.”

Your eyes followed his paw, landing on a lone table that had been maneuvered to the farthest corner of the room.

A few students—pale as death and donning blue vests—hunched over it, their frames made so small that they barely registered as people. A veil of gloom seemed to cling to them like spiderwebs, hollowing their faces and darkening their eyes. It was like they had been unearthed from their graves and unceremoniously dropped into the school.

“Oh, them?” Trey chuckled faintly. “They must be from Ignihyde. Students from that dorm have a strong grasp on magical tech, but they aren’t exactly the most sociable guys. A lot of them can’t handle talking face-to-fa—”

“Hello!!”

“Whoa…!”

Everyone at the table startled as a blur of blue and silver bounded into view. Forks and spoons clattered, food leapt up from its trays, some of it catching onto clothes and flecking onto skin.

“Sheesh, don’t scare us like that!” Cater groaned, wiping a dot of applesauce from his cheek. “Riddle-kun will have our heads if even one hair’s out of place!”

“Ehehe, sorry! I was just so excited when my visual receptors picked up on unfamiliar faces!”

"M-Myah?! Wh-What the heck, this guy came straight outta nowhere!!" Grim cried.

“Who’s…?” Your voice trailed off as you took a closer look at the stranger.

Sapphire flames in the place of hair danced upon his scalp, a stark contrast to his pallid face. His amber eyes were so striking, so bright, it was like electricity coursed through them. Everything about him was sharp, as though he had been cut out of something tougher than diamonds. But his body—

It was decidedly not that of a human.

Perhaps the most “human” thing about him was the pair of headphones casually slung around his neck—an accessory to pass as a teenager. The rest of his tall, lithe frame was carved out in a silvery white metal, glowing blue lines running down his torso. The joints at the young man's fingers, knees, and elbows were visible, and where his heart should have been was another haunting blue flame.

His feet were particularly strange; too chunky to be made of flesh and bone, but formed like platform boots. And then you realized why his initial appearance had been so odd: he had not walked, but rocketed over. He hadn’t even touched the ground.

You assumed that he smiled at you—you couldn’t tell for certain, as his mouth was concealed behind a black guard of some sort, a skull-like pattern printed on it.

“You are…?”

“Ortho. Ortho Shroud.” He pulled down his mouth visor, showcasing cobalt lips arranged in (as you had suspected) a grin. It was both innocent and mischievous, as though he had a secret yet to be unleashed. “It’s always nice to get to know the new blood~"

“You’re a student too?” Deuce asked excitedly. "Oh...! That would make you our upperclassman, wouldn't it?!"

“Duh, of course he is,” Ace said with a roll of his eyes. "What else would he be, a janitor? The local handyman?"

You shot him a sideways glare for the jab.

“Better a janitor or a handyman than a kid that got put in time out,” you shot back, gesturing to the enchanted collar chaffing Ace’s neck.

He frowned.

“I am present at Night Raven College to monitor and to support my younger brother during his studies,” Ortho replied. "He is a first year in Ignihyde."

His response, you noticed, didn’t fully answer the question.

"What, so there's another big guy lumberin' around campus with his hair on fire?" Grim snickered at the thought. "Must be real easy to spot him in a crowd then!"

"Heheh. Wouldn't you like to know?"

There was an ominous undertone to his words, sending the ghost of a chill crawled down your spine.

"Alright, alright, that's enough of that. You didn't come all this way just to tease the freshmen, right?" Trey adjusted his glasses knowingly. "If I know you, Ortho... you're looking for something."

"Foiled me already, huh? You're no fun." He stuck out his lower lip in a playful pout. "But yes, that is correct. I wanted to ask a little favor of our new friends!"

"You’re already charming your way into getting free labor from your juniors? So mean~ What kind of heartless monster would do such a thing?"

Trey raised an eyebrow at Cater. "I seem to recall someone shirking his unbirthday party duties and dumping the workload onto the underclassmen."

"Ehhh, are you seriously putting me on the spot?"

"Better watch out, Loosey Deucey," Ace smirked to his classmate. "If you're not careful, Cater-senpai's gonna work you ragged!"

"I wouldn't fall for something like that!" Deuce stopped, reconsidering "... Unless they really, REALLY needed me! It's the duty of an honors student to lend a helping hand when asked to!"

"Dude, you're making it too easy to dupe you.”

“I-I’m not easy to dupe!! I could turn down any request if I wanted to!”

“Grim? Prefect? Back me up here.”

You tensed at the suggestion of being tricked. You'd been fooled once by cruelty disguised as kindness—Ace's taunts masked as friendliness—and you wouldn't be fooled again.

"Sorry, senpai. I'm not sure if there's anything I can do for you. I'm just trying to focus on learning the campus and my schedule, so..."

"There's no need to worry! I am at least 20.8% less deceptive than the general student populace of Night Raven College."

"Where did you pull that statistic from?" you wondered, suspiciously eyeing Ortho.

He accepted it in stride. "I am an advanced artificial intelligence. I'm able to run a number of advanced calculations in seconds. There are several other functions only I am capable of—so please believe me when I say that if there were a method for me to resolve this issue alone, I would have."

You hesitated.

The argument Ortho provided was compelling. Maybe too compelling.

"... What do you want?"

Ortho stared directly at Grim.

"H-Hey, what're you lookin' at me for?"

You felt Ortho’s smile under the visor widening. "I'd like to play a game of cat and mouse."

“You can’t find your little brother?”

You briskly walked by Ortho's side, the two of you traversing a hallway which opened into a sunny courtyard. A squirming Grim was tucked under your arm.

The furry gremlin had been taken against his will, whisked out of the cafeteria and away from his plate of mashed tuna, abandoning the Heartslabyul boys to the remainders of their own meals.

"I'll help you, Prefect!" Deuce had promised, only to be shut down by Ace's teasing. ("Oi, what happened to 'I can turn down any request if I wanted to'?")

Not that they would have been of any use, you thought. A statue set on fire, Ace trapped under a cauldron, and a shattered chandelier dancing in your mind.

By now, Grim's loud whining had (thankfully) eased into unhappy grumbling.

Ortho nodded. "I would regularly be able to locate Idia-san by running a campus-wide scan for all living organisms, then isolating by biometrics. However, I can't seem to find him no matter how many times I run the program. He must be using a device to jam my detective capabilities from afar."

"Really? You look... complicated," you commented carefully. "Your brother sounds like some kind of a genius if he's able to pull that off."

"He is," Ortho said sunnily.

"... Well, that's putting you in a bind right now, so I don't think we should be happy about his big brain cells."

“It shouldn’t be an obstacle. Idia-san may be highly intelligent, but I have a trump card now thanks to you!” Ortho snuck a peek at Grim and graced him with a firm head pat. “A cute kitty cat!”

“I’m NOT a cat!!” Grim protested, swiping at Ortho’s metal hand.

“Because you said your little brother likes cats?”

“Yes. I’m sure that we’ll be able to lure him out with this!” Ortho waved a hand into the courtyard. “This would be an optimal spot. It’s a relatively wide open space, so it would appear more innocuous to set our trap here.”

You slowed your pace and scanned the outside, seeking out a blue fire that matched the android's. It was notably empty, with most students away for their lunch break.

“Oi, can ya stop talkin’ about me like I’m your bait?!”

“Quiet, Grim,” you shushed, setting him down in the grass. “You are our bait. Now get your tail out there and try to act natural!”

With that, you rushed to hide yourself behind a column. Ortho chuckled to himself, joining you behind an adjacent one.

“Grrr…”

Grim begrudgingly got on all fours and padded onto the lawn. He glanced around the courtyard and cleared his throat. “Uh… ‘meow’?”

There was silence.

"Meow, meow, me-ooooow!"

The silence grew staler.

"... Okay, that's enough of a stain on the great Grim-sama's reputation for one day!" He stood on his hind legs and stretched his arms to the sky. "I'm headin' back to get my fill of fish!"

"Not yet!! Try doing something cute like licking yourself or playing with a ball of yarn!"

“Not if you’re gonna watch, minion!!”

"I can look away if you're embarrassed."

"That's not the problem here!!"

"What is the problem then?"

"Shh! Wait—” Ortho gasped. "I'm detecting movement from the opposite side of the courtyard. There, in the bushes!"

You looked where he indicated.

Indeed, one of the shrubs seemed to be quivering, causing a few of its leaves to dislodge and fall to the ground. Seconds later, there was a flicker of light, and a small boy clutching a handheld console emerged, followed what appeared to be a floating skull.

He was dressed in a frumpy, oversized black and blue striped sweater. The rest of his outfit was just as comedic and childish, with a pair of pants sporting many pockets and a pair of sneakers splattered with the colors of the night sky. Colorful characters and shapes adorned his footwear: three eyed green aliens, stars, spaceships, and astronauts.

But most importantly, he was just like Ortho. Eyes the same color, fiery blue hair that fanned out behind him, mouth a shade of cyanide poisoning, and skin that looked like it hadn't seen the sun in years.

"That's your brother? Your first year brother? He doesn't look any older than an average elementary schooler," you hissed to Ortho.

"Genius, remember?" He shrugged. "Night Raven College made a special exception for a child prodigy to enroll in its ranks."

So Idia is a child prodigy... and Ortho's a supercomputer that's supposed to babysit him? Wait, how can a robot and a human even be related? Can a human even have fire for hair? Just what kind of a family dynamic is this?!

Your brain hurt from trying to fit the details together. They were like puzzle pieces that didn't quite connect.

A strangled scream resounded in the courtyard.

You snapped to attention, leaping out from your hiding place. Horror clenched your throat, your stomach—

Idia had Grim trapped in a death grip, smushing the poor creature against his face. The little boy wore a silly, toothy grin, revealing that his teeth were pointed like an imp's. His console was shoved into one of many pockets, long forgotten in favor of the cat.

"Hihihihihi, it must be my lucky day," Idia mumbled to himself. "I thought some annoying normie finished stuffing their face with food early and started stomping and shouting, but no! It turned out to be a talented talking widdle kitty witty interrupting my private gaming session... It's okay, I'll forgive you cuz you're seriously sooo fluffy and cute!!"

"Be careful, you're hurting him!!" you called out, charging at the child. You were but a few feet away when Idia noticed you, and his excitement waned.

"E-Eep!! Are you the kitty's owner?"

"I'm NOT a cat!!" Grim moaned desperately.

"Er, no... yes... maybe..." You paused. "It's hard to define, but we live together, so that means I have a say in how he's treated!!"

Idia's expression immediately twisted into a look of total disgust. "Ew. Gross. Go away. No one asked to see your dumb face. I found the kitty, so he's mine now. You should've kept a better eye on him if you cared so much."

"Wh-What..."

What's with this sassy lost child?!

"Now you listen here, mister—“

"Idia-san!!”

Ortho flew right by you, stopping your tirade before it could even start. He practically tackled Idia, smothering him in a hug that was warm and hummed like a generator.

(Grim let out another scream as his body was compressed between the two brothers.)

"O-Ortho nii-san...!?"

"Thank goodness I found you! I was so worried when you disappeared on me!!" Ortho released Idia, but kept his hands firmly on the young boy's shoulders. "It was bad of you to run off and go into hiding like that. My circuits almost fried from the shock!!”

Grim fell to the ground in a furry heap and scrambled into your arms. “G-Get me away from that crazy kid…!!”

You held him to your chest and stroked his back comfortingly, warily eyeing Idia and anticipating another smarmy remark.

He bashfully stared down at his shoes. “………………….. S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Huh?! Since when was he all shy and innocent?! His personality did a complete 180!

“It’s alright! What matters is that you’re safe and sound.” Ortho happily ruffled the flames on Idia’s head. “But promise me that you won’t do that again. I know you’re anxious since it’s your first week of school, but that’s no excuse for holing up for the day.”

“… I-I don’t wanna go to class or eat in the cafeteria,” Idia whined stubbornly, clinging to Ortho’s arm. “I saw. Th-There’s too many people.

He vigorously shook his head. "But I don't want to. I only wanna hang out with you, Nii-san... and the kitty.”

“You know that’s not healthy,” Ortho tutted. “There’s a big, bright, beautiful world out there, full of lovely people waiting to meet you. You won’t be able to experience that if you keep to yourself all year.”

"S-Sounds scary..."

"It's not scary at all! Look, your big bro met these nice people today." Ortho indicated you and Grim. "They helped me out when I was in a pinch. It's because of them that I was able to find you."

"Uh, hi?" You awkwardly waved.

Idia shuffled behind his brother's leg, glaring at you from behind it.

"Don't be like that." Ortho's eyes glimmered with cheer. "Hey, I know! Why don't you introduce yourself to them?"

"D-Do I really have to?"

"Would it help if they introduced themselves to you first?"

Idia said nothing, but his stare turned expectant. Ortho looked at you hopefully.

You sighed and relented. "... I'm the Ramshackle Prefect, and this is Grim."

"That's the GREAT Grim-sama to you, minion!"

"......................... I-Idia. Idia Shroud... I'm a first year in Ignihyde... a-and its dorm leader..."

... Huh?

"I'm sorry, what did you just say? I swear I must have misheard you." You laughed, cupping an ear.

"I'm dorm leader."

... HAH?

"Y-You're... You're a kid though?! And didn't you literally just start school at NRC? How's it possible that you became dorm leader so fast?!"

"Feh!!" Idia smirked, tapping his temples. "Unlike you simple-minded noobs, I've got the brain of a genius inventor up in here! There's nothing I can't achieve, hihihihi!"

He sealed the deal by blowing a raspberry.

Am I seriously being talked down to by a grade schooler?! You took a breath to calm yourself. No, I'm better than this. Don't get mad. Be the bigger person.

"Now, Idia-san... Bragging isn't very kind," Ortho gently chided. "Still, I'm proud of you for managing to get through giving your introduction!"

The android clapped, his face lighting up with excitement. "Since everyone's acquainted...! That makes us all brand-new friends!"

"I don't know if I'd go THAT far," you muttered. "It depends on how loosely you define 'friend'... though it sounds like your definition of it is very loose."

"Friends are friends!!" Ortho insisted. "And do you guys know what friends do?"

Oh no.

There was that odd smile of his again, clearly visible in spite of the visor hiding it. Half innocence, half mischief.

Your stomach sank. You had a bad feeling about this.

"Friends hang out together on their lunch breaks!"

... You should have listened to the warning signs Trey had pointed out.

“Alright, who wants snacks?"

Ortho placed several large bowls before you, each offering up something sweet or salty. There were chips in various flavors, candies in all colors, popcorn, and plain pretzels with a variety of dips. It was a rainbow of treats, definitely an upgrade from all the canned tuna and tap water you had been living off of for the past few days.

"Take your pick of drinks too! Plenty to go around." He pointed to a pyramid of canned beverages as he settled in comfortably next to you. This close, you could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see your reflection in his shiny coat.

"Myah?! You sure are livin' the high life!! You have so much stuff!" Grim crawled around on a fuzzy carpet, his eyes darting around, taking in all the shelves of games and merchandise, the consoles arranged in front of a large television.

"I-I have a kitty... I have an actual kitty in my room...!!" Idia looked like he was going to pass out from happiness. A first for his seemingly bloodless self. "N-Ne... d-do you want to play a game? C-Can you play games...?"

"Can I? Don't underestimate the great Grim-sama!!" He stood up and put his paws on his hips. "I won't go easy on ya just cuz you're a lil' brat! Name your game, buster!!"

“Ahhhh, I get to play with a kitty…! Th-This is pure bliss!!”

“For the last time, I’m NOT a… Oh, whatever!! Show me to your games already, I’ll fish out the best one!”

The duo dug into a cabinet, tossing out several discs and cartridges. Grim’s pitchfork-shaped tail sailed in the air as he rifled through titles. The tips of Idia’s hair were tinged pink.

You bit into a chip as you watched the scene unfold.

Grim’s acting like a little kid himself. All Ortho had to do was dangle toys and food in front of him and he instantly caved…

A cold wetness came upon your cheek.

You startled, relaxing only when you realized it was the sensation of a cold bottle being pressed against your bare skin.

“Living organisms such as yourself need to maintain adequate hydration levels for proper functioning,” Ortho advised. “Please do take care.”

“Thanks.” You cautiously accepted the drink, keeping your eyes trained on him.

He’s more cunning than he seems. Ortho talks himself down, but orchestrating all of this takes some serious computing and forethought.

Dangerous, you concluded. He’s dangerous.

“… Oh? You’re staring.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I can tell,” Ortho chirped. “Your iris and retinal activity indicates that—”

“You definitely tricked us.”

Without missing a beat, he nodded. “Yes. Are you upset that I did?”

“How much of it was planned?” you demanded, pointing the water bottle at him accusingly. “Was there really a jamming device preventing you from finding Idia on your own? When you stopped and said the courtyard was the perfect place to search… did you already know he was there?”

“Hehe. When I saw you and Grim-san in the cafeteria for the first time, I saw an opportunity to make use of our meeting, so I took it!

“My brother would have such an easier time opening up to a creature of the feline variety. I formulated a believable excuse to acquire the target.” Ortho chuckled, coy with his words. “I’d say it was a successful mission. Wouldn’t you?”

“Why didn’t you be honest with us? We would have helped if you had just…”

“I wanted it to be as close to a naturalistic simulation as possible.”

You blinked, taken aback by the immediate and blunt response.

“In a simulation,” Ortho continued calmly, “we imitate a situation in a controlled environment. Multiple factors are considered in the process. By running multiple simulations, we can collect more data and come closer to accounting for a simulation which is most closely related to the randomness that is a real-world system.

“In this situation, it was the inverse. I wanted a scenario in which less information would yield a more natural outcome.”

“You… wanted it to feel ‘real’ for Idia,” you said slowly. “It wouldn’t have worked like that if we knew what was going on and pretended like we were there by chance. You needed us to be in the dark.”

“Correct.”

Ortho had confessed to his guilt, but try as you might, you couldn’t detect any malicious intent.

“Idia-san is special—but he’s socially anxious and has a hard time getting along with his classmates. They don’t like that a young child has been enrolled at this school, or that he has taken on such an important role at it.

“As the one that has been assigned to oversee his school life, I worry. I would like Idia to enjoy his time here to its fullest, yet… the year has barely begun, and I’ve already been instructed by the headmaster that firing a laser is ‘not an appropriate defense protocol’ for dealing with bullies and other instigators…”

“… Crowley’s right about that part,” you interjected.

Ortho laughed, and the fondness and the fluidity of it stunned you. For a second, you forgot that he was not human at all, believing that he was a real boy.

“This will be the first step of many for Idia-san. I hope to be there for the rest of that journey.”

“Ortho-senpai…”

“I’m glad that our paths crossed, Prefect-san.” He flashed a winsome smile. “Thank you and Grim-san for helping me—and for indulging him.”

“… It’s no problem, but next time you’d better not pull another dirty trick like you did today.”

“Next time?” The smile turned slightly cocky, and you vaguely regretted your reply.

“I assume we’ll be seeing you around campus, not necessarily hanging out.”

“Aww, it’s not nice of you to snub your new friends like that~” There was a nip of wickedness to his teasing tone. “… I’m not a formal student, but you might still see me hanging around my little bro. Come by and say hi again sometime, will you?”

You blinked. “You’re not a student?”

Ortho gave no response. His eyes trailed over to Grim and Idia, who had seated themselves before the TV, controllers in hand.

The screen sparked to life with color and light and sound. A night sky speckled with stars blinked into view, along with bombastic blue font.

Star Rogue ~The Road to Being a Hero~

Traced by the glow of the game, the uncanniness in Ortho’s appearance became apparent. The lack of pores in his rubbery skin, the sharp metal sheen of his body, the abnormal lines running in his irises. Even his fire was just a swaying projection, a trick of the light.

Beneath his mask, fake lips moved, producing a close approximation of a human voice.

“… I can be at Night Raven College because of Idia-san.” He cupped the flame that burned in the place of his heart. “That alone… brings me happiness.”

If Ortho was a flame burning brightly, then he had dimmed to mere embers, his voice but a contemplative whisper. Cold, hard logic had been dispelled, leaving only the ashes where a feeling had once been.

Pressure welled in your chest.

I… shouldn’t pry further than this.

“N-Never mind that!” You cracked open your bottle and took a big swig out of it. Slamming it down, you wiped a stray dribble of water from your chin. “Let’s watch the game!! How does it even work, anyway?”

“Star Rogue? Oh, it’s a classic.” Ortho crossed his legs and leaned back against Idia’s bed. “You go…” He pointed a finger at you and pantomimed a firing, then a kickback. “Pew, pew!! And everything in your way explodes! You shoot down the boss and save the galaxy!

“Er… You have way more of a casual attitude on violence than you initially let on.”

Ortho shrugged. “Like I said, the headmaster forbade me from firing lasers on campus. This is the next best thing.”

“Well, as long as you’re not obliterating any real people... I guess that’s fine.”

“It’s better experienced than explained. We should go for a round after those two!” Ortho inclined his head towards Grim and Idia, eyes glued to the television and caught up in an intense round of button mashing.

You chortled. “Okay, you’re on.”

“Great. Prepare to get crushed and left in my space dust!” His eyes twinkled like the stars on the screen, the traces of sadness that had once been there gone.

So human, so real.

The feeling behind them.

Almost like his entire being was lighting up from the inside out.

Huh, so he can smile like that too.

“Hey,” you said slowly, “Ortho-senpai?”

His eyes cut to you, the alien features in his profile still illuminated. “Yes, Prefect-san?”

“I may not entirely understand your circumstances, but for what it’s worth… you have a big heart.”

He looked at you fully, pupils dilated. The fire of his hair and in his chest flared up, as if expressing surprise.

“Really,” you stressed, your brows upturned sympathetically. “Anyone would be lucky to have someone like you in their lives.”

Ortho's gaze sharpened, carefully analyzing you. Your features, your feelings. Contemplating the sincerity behind them.

After what seemed like an eternity--but was surely just a few seconds in real time--he spoke. It was a single, simple word as sweet as the taste of victory.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." You gave him a playful light tap on the shoulder.

With a soft laugh, he returned the favor. When his fist made contact with you, you could feel the warmth emanating from him.

The wires and electricity running through him. His heart pulsing.

“… But don't think this means I’ll take it easy on you,” Ortho warned. “I can get super competitive when it comes to games, you know!"

“Wouldn’t dream of it, senpai.”

269 notes · View notes

lovesickarmin · 3 years ago

Text

janitor!levi has been taking over my brain since this morning. so now this exists <3

not proofread, wc: 2.2k, warnings: brief mentions of cheating and blood

you and levi work the night shift at some big fancy corporate building, never seeing the faces of the people whose offices you clean. it's not a hard job necessarily, but the turnover rate is crazy and you lose coworkers constantly. this isn't anyones dream job, you know? and after 3 or so years, you're practically a veteran there. second only to levi who's going on 8 years.

it's strange though, how the only consistent coworker you have is still practically a stranger to you. during your time here the most you've interacted has been through trivial small talk and curt nods when you walk past one another in the halls or in the breakroom you share.

you admire him though. in fact you've had a bit of a crush on him since you first started. how could you not? he's beautiful. his midnight black hair and steely grey eyes almost took your breath away when you first met him. and now you find yourself charmed by his work ethic and little mannerisms.

you found him intimidating from the start, but after a while you got less nervous around him. co existing with levi had become as natural as breathing over time. his presence has become somewhat comforting to you. you simply like being around him. but you still found it odd how you knew almost nothing about him other than the odd attribute here and there.

you noticed that he likes his tea piping hot with no milk or sugar. black tea seems to be his favorite, and he always holds his cups by the rim. you realized that he hates the winter when he stormed into work looking more annoyed than usual during you first year there, tearing off layer after layer of clothing and cursing under his breath about how fucking freezing it was outside. he likes flowers too, you think. you've seen how he tends to spend extra time outside watering the tulips that grow along the building during the spring and summer. a little silly to do so at night, you think. but it's endearing.

what you don't know is how much he knows about you.

it wasn't like he was trying to get to know you. hell, he thought you were going to be one of the dozens who come and go within a few months. but you stayed. and its impossible to not learn things about someone when you're around them for so long. it doesn't help his efforts that you tend to take breaks the same time as him, and you're always so open and friendly with the new workers. he couldn't tune you out even if he wanted to, and he's not sure that he does.

he knows that you name your plants, and how upset you get when you realize that you forgot to water them. he knows your friends by name, and what restaurants you frequent with them to eat breakfast after your shifts sometimes. he knows about your comfort film, the one you recommend to everyone (and yes he's watched it too. not that he would tell you that of course). he knows how you miss your family, and that you wish you called them more often. and he knows about your boyfriend.

levi was happy for you at first. seeing your face light up when told your other coworkers about him had become the highlight of his day. he couldnt help but smile to himself when he'd hear you giggle when you saw his car outside waiting for you. he always watched as you ran and kissed him before you were even fully in the car.

it made levi feel warm to see you so happy. he thought that it made sense. that people like you were meant to spend your days in that hazy bliss that accompanies love. and he hoped you'd always live like that. because in levis eyes, you deserve it. knowing that you were in that haze somehow made the days he spent alone less unbearable.

but that joyful time only lasted a few months. he isn't sure exactly when you stopped smiling as much. he thinks it was around the time your boyfriend stopped picking you up in the mornings. you'd still talk about him to your other coworkers in passing, but it had been considerably less than before. in fact, you stopped talking much in general. and it got under levis skin.

the breakroom felt cold and empty when it wasn't filled with your bubbly laughter and incessant chattering. the worst part for levi is that you were still there, just not there.

he thought he was going to lose it when you walked into the breakroom at the beginning of the shift this evening. you looked so out of it, and you wouldn't look him in the eyes when you greeted him with a meek 'hey levi' before clocking in and practically bolting out of the room.

levis at a loss now as he stands in the doorway of the break room. he's been looking for you for the last few hours, and you successfully evaded him until now. he still isn't sure what he wants to say to you. so he decides to stand by until he finds the words, or you turn around and force them out of him.

but you don't turn around. you're looking at the open cupboard in front of you, eyes darting back and forth between the various mixed matched mugs trying to find one in particular. and when you finally spot it on the top shelf, you stand on the tips of your toes to reach it. you're so close, your fingers barely brushing against the handle. you jump a little, and you try to grab onto it, but your hand slips.

there's a loud crash when the cup falls to the floor, shattering into pieces on impact. you don't move at first. you just stare at the shards of glass on the floor for a few moments. levis eyes widen when he sees that your form is shaking slightly. he can hear the little sniffles you make as you slowly fall to your knees and start to pick up the pieces.

he feels like he's frozen in place. he doesn't want to make things worse for you, but he can't find it in him to leave. its only when you audibly wince, and he sees the trickling of blood on the floor that he finds his legs moving him towards you.

you don't even notice him until he's kneeling in front of you, one hand gently grabbing onto your wrist and turning your hand until he can get a good look at your palm. you look up at him, and tears roll down your cheeks when your eyes widen. you're quick to wipe your face dry with your uninjured hand.

"levi? i, um..."

"it looks deep. c'mere."

he helps you to your feet and walks you over to the sink. he keeps ahold of your wrist as he turns on the faucet, and places your hand under the cool running water. his body is flush against yours as he stands behind you, and its making your mind fuzzy and his on high-alert. neither of you say anything, instead opting to watch as the bleeding starts to subside.

after a minute or two he turns off the water and grabs a few paper towels. he places them in your hand, grabbing your other hand and placing it on top.

"apply pressure, and sit down."

you do as your told, and levi grabs the first aid kit from one of the cabinets. he pulls a chair over to sit in front of you, your knees almost intertwining as he pulls out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a few cotton balls. he takes your wrist in his hand again, and you're unsure if you've ever been touched this softly before. he removes the bloody paper towels, and dabs one of the soaked cotton balls onto the cut. you clench your jaw as you wince, and levi looks up at you sympathetically.

"i know, this shit stings like a bitch. but it's necessary."

you nod, and take a few deep breathes. it only takes him a few more moments to wrap your hand with gauze and bandages. once he's done, he turns your hand around to admire his work and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles. when he finally looks up at you and meets your gaze, he feels his cheeks start to burn and he lets your hand go promptly.

he gets up and grabs one of the many broom and dust pans, and starts to sweep up the glass. he's dumping the glass into a container when he hears you start to cry again. he walks over to you before kneeling infront of you once again. you're covering your face with you hands, and he tries to be as cautious as possible when he pulls them down.

"is it hurting?"

"no, n-not really..."

he keeps his eyes on yours, giving you the time to tell him when you feel ready. and you want to. you want to tell him how that morning you found out that another woman was keeping your now ex boyfriends bed warm at night when you were here. but saying it out loud makes it real, and you aren't ready for that yet. you don't want to outright lie to him though, so you settle for what tipped you over the edge.

"it's just... that was my favorite cup..."

you know there's no chance that levi actually believes you. but even so, he won't pressure you to talk about it. he knows that theres a time and a place to talk about personal matters. and in the middle of a shift at work isn't one of those times. and he feels there's no grantee you would confind in him anyway. so he indulges you with the slightest of smiles gracing his face.

"ahh, i see. i doubt that a piece of tableware is worth all these tears though, wouldn't you agree?"

you wipe your eyes and to his surprise you let out a small chuckle. your laughter leaves his chest feeling lighter and his stomach fluttering.

"but it was special to me. you gave it to me for the secret santa exchange last year."

it's levis turn to laugh now. its small and barely audible, but it leaves you with wide eyes and a hammering heart. it's a sound you've never heard before. but it's one you'd do anything to hear again.

he almost forgot about that damn tea cup. he wasnt planning on participating in the event. why the hell would he? he wasn't close to any of his coworkers. and expecting someone to get a gift for him seemed ridiculous. he could already see the panic on one of the new hires faces when they pulled his name. he'd be doing them a favor, he thinks.

he was on his way to your supervisors office to take his name off the list when he opened up that little white envelope that held the name of person he was assigned. and seeing your name scibbled on the post-it note inside stopped him in his tracks.

his eyebrows furrowed as he read your name over and over. he isn't sure why he tucked the paper into his pocket as he turned around and walked away from the office. it wasn't like he had an idea of what to get for you. the only reason he got you that cup because he was tired of seeing you burn your hands every time you poured your coffee into the paper cups the company provided.

he didn't expect your face to light up so bright when you unwrapped it. the way you smiled at him and thanked him so genuinely made his heart swell. he remembers how he brushed you off, telling you it wasn't a big deal. but he'd be a damn liar if he said seeing you use it almost daily didn't leave him feeling warm all over.

"you can use one of mine then until you get another."

and you did for a next few days. until you walk into your last shift of the week and see a small white box sitting on one of the tables with your name on a small tag attached to the top. you wait until your coworkers, including levi, disperse and leave the room empty before you open it.

a smile spreads wide across your face as you peer inside. you reach inside and pull out the most beautiful tea cup you've seen. you turn it around in your hands, admiring the gold trim and the ornate floral pattern. you run your fingers along the edge of the rim and hold it close to your chest as you pull out a small piece of paper from the bottom of the box. your smile somehow widens further, and a small giggle escapes you as you read.

try not to break this one, klutz. our job is to clean up messes, not create them. -L

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #aot x reader #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff #attack on titan #snk fluff #snk x reader #snk x you

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dickwheelie · 4 years ago

Text

sooooooo I wrote a sequel to that love entities jmart post that got pretty popular. all you really need to know is that post mag 200 jon becomes a local cryptid and listens to people's stories about encounters with the entities to help unburden them of some of their fear. please enjoy!

_____________

Just inside the entryway of Old Fishmarket Close, hidden just out of sight of the street, there stands a shrine. It is not an old shrine of weathered stone, nor is it carefully crafted with intricate religious symbols, nor is it static, weighed down by years of collected dust. It is in many ways a living shrine; flowers bloom and wilt at its feet, while above it, against the wall of the Close, piles of paper, photographs, and keepsakes are haphazardly stacked and stuck. The shrine seems to breathe as each day passes, as innumerable and unsung hands replace its flowers and let their offerings crawl up its wall like vines.

The shrine is not marked, but everyone who looks for it, in the shadows of the entryway, knows precisely who it is for.

You arrive that day with only a piece of notebook paper in your hand. Upon it is written a short message, and not an uncommon one to see at the shrine: Thank You. A substitute, of sorts, for the flowers and other gifts that people often leave. You, like many others, are not well off, and you hope that a small note can make up for your lack of material offerings.

As you approach the shrine, a gust of wind whistles through the alleyway and rustles the pages plastered across the length of the wall. You’ve brought no adhesive, so you slip the piece of paper partially beneath a bouquet lying on the stone walkway. It’s relatively fresh, so you hope it won’t be moved anytime soon. You’ve no idea who replaces the flowers, but you suspect it’s never the same person twice. The locals all know about the shrine and the person it’s meant for, and they’ve grown protective of them both.

Dozens of other people have had the same idea before you; the ground is littered with short notes of gratitude. Thank you for listening, says one, transcribed in loving calligraphy, the i’s dotted with hearts. Thank You For Finding Me, Whoever You Are, says another. I rely lik yor hat, says one written in crayon. Another says, You’ll probably never read this, but thank you for hearing my story. There must be hundreds of them, and there are more each time you visit.

You had spent the better part of the morning trying to come up with something more eloquent to write, but you’ve never been great with words. Telling the mysterious person your story had been the only time you’d ever felt as though your words matched your thoughts, that what came out of your mouth was exactly how you felt, and that the person you were talking to understood you fully.

You suppose a thank you is better than nothing, and after one last fond look at the shrine, you turn to go.

A footstep that is not your own echoes down the alleyway. You turn, half-alarmed, but relax at once when you see who it is.

You have only ever seen him once before, about a month ago when you told him your story, but he is difficult to forget; his figure tall and thin, his posture horrendous, his features hidden entirely by a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He stands now at the far end of the alleyway, hands clutched before his hunched torso, giving you the distinct impression he’s staring directly at you.

“Um, hello,” you say, haltingly. You’re not quite sure how to address him, but you figure a polite greeting is universal. You gesture at the shrine. “I don’t have, uh, another story or anything. I was just leaving a note for you.”

His hat tips curiously to the side, and he shuffles forward with his cautious gait, peering closer at the shrine. The dark brim of his hat swivels towards you, as though asking a question.

“The shrine,” you say. “I just left a short note. It’s no big thing, I just—I wanted to leave something.”

The words seem to mean nothing to him. He looks at the shrine, then at you, then back at the shrine. He steps a bit closer to it, and reaches out a long-fingered, gloved hand to touch the petals from a bouquet of daffodils. After the briefest of moments, he pulls away again, hands resuming their wringing.

A thought occurs to you. “Do you . . . do you not know what this is?”

He shakes the hat once.

“This is . . . this is for you,” you say, spreading your arms to encompass the garden on the ground and the sea of pages above. “The flowers, the little trinkets, the thank-you letters—it’s for you. From . . . from all of us, who’ve told you our stories. You’ve helped us so much, we wanted to let you know how much we appreciated it. How grateful we are.”

He doesn’t react, and so you reach out and pick out a card, one that says, Talking to you about how scared I was of the dark made me less afraid of it. I sleep better at night because of what you did for me. Thank you, mysterious stranger. Much love, E.M.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him, and he takes it with a shaky glove. The brim of his hat lowers as he reads. "That’s just one of them. There are loads more just like that.” You survey the pile and pick out another. “This one’s from a kid, thanking you for helping their mom . . . And this one’s just a simple thank you note but they did cover it in glitter glue, so, there’s that . . . And this person wanted you to know that their anxiety improved after talking to you . . .”

He takes note after note from you, reading them all, silent and unexpressive as always, but there’s something in his posture that is unbearably human. Somehow it reminds you of how people stand when they hold a baby chick in their hands.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” you say, not unkindly. You’re both sitting on the ground now, amidst the bouquets and piles of thank-yous. “Who else would this all be for?”

As he picks up yet another note, a tremor runs through his body. He raises a gloved hand to the shadows beneath the hat, and you watch as two drops of water stain the page in his hand. His chest convulses as more tears fall, his hand moving under the hat to wipe them away, but they keep coming. Still he makes no sound.

You didn’t know he could cry. You don’t know why you’re surprised; he’s strange, certainly, and perhaps not entirely human . . . but he has heard so many horrible things, and human or not, he deserves a chance to cry.

“Are you—are you okay?” you say, not sure what to do.

The hat nods once, and then shakes.

“I . . . I know it’s probably a lot, all at once,” you say, and you reach out to touch his arm. The movement comes naturally, without much thought; you would have done the same for a friend.

He flinches at your touch, and you immediately pull away, but then he relaxes again, and nods. Tears are still falling from the shadows down onto his coat.

You touch his arm again, gently, and he doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry if it’s overwhelming. But we really are grateful, and you have a bad habit of not accepting thanks. This was one of the only ways we could think to . . . to show you.” You take a deep breath, and gaze into the shadows of where his face might be, doing your best to look him in the eye. “We don’t really know who you are, or why you came here, or why you choose to listen to us. But somehow, we know you mean well. I think everyone who’s told their story knows that, me included. That you’re trying to help us, that you want to do good. And you do. We . . . we want you to know that you’ve done good.”

His chest rises and falls shakily, and though he still makes no sound you swear you can hear a sob. He reaches out and grasps your arm in turn, and suddenly you realize what he needs.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask.

The hat nods, again and again, and you open your arms, and he falls forward. You would have done the same for a friend.

You almost expect the hug to be gentle, but it is not; it is tight and desperate, and feels so human you do not think twice about hugging him back just as tightly. He is not terribly warm, but you can feel a heart beating beneath his coat. A few tears fall on the back of your jacket. You know that if you just looked up, you would be able to see his face beneath the hat, but you keep your eyes shut tight.

When you move apart, a few moments later, he seems a little more composed, and no more tears fall from beneath the hat. He straightens his back a bit, growing taller even in a sitting position, and you can see just the barest hint of a mouth, which is smiling a delicate, wobbly sort of smile. He brings a gloved hand up to his chin, placing his fingertips against it, and moves them towards you, once, twice.

You are by no means fluent in sign language, but you recognize the sign for Thank you when you see it.

You smile back at him. “You’re welcome,” you say.

He looks back at the shrine, at the piles and piles of notes he has yet to read. You watch as he picks up a handful more, seemingly at random, shuffling them in his hands and pressing them close to his chest. After a pause, he reaches out and slowly picks up one of the bouquets, overflowing with small blue flowers. You’re not entirely sure, but you think they might be forget-me-nots. He pulls a single flower from the bunch and tucks it, carefully, into the collar of his coat, as though for safekeeping.

He nods once, satisfactorily, and stands slowly, giving a small bow in your direction before he turns and shuffles back down the alleyway, the bushel of blue flowers peeking over his shoulder, rustling in the breeze.

Just before he is swallowed by the shadows at the far end of the Close, you call out, “Thank you! Again. For . . . for everything.”

It’s certainly just a trick of the light, but when he turns back to look at you, just before the shadows overtake him, you swear you can see the light catch on a single, twinkling eye, crinkled in one corner by what must be a smile.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes

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peachyysugaa · 3 years ago

Text

troublemaker

― dancer youtubers!lee heeseung x gn!dance major!reader

sparks fly when the top two dancers on youtube collab!

genre: slow-burn fluff, s2l

wc: 3.9k (omg i'm sorry) + 2 twitter pics

warnings: probably some wrong dance terminology, slightly suggestive (the dance is just 😳), short timeskip, it's cheesy please bear with me

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the fifth upload! feel free to read on its own~ ♞──────────────────────────♞

you finish off your last move with your arms wide open, your chest heaving up and down from lack of breath. smiling nevertheless, you know you absolutely love the feeling of getting your breath taken away after dancing because you know it meant you did your best. you walk towards the camera lens and peek at the comments through your open laptop.

"did you all enjoy that?" you ask breathlessly grinning. the flooding comments are filled with compliments from your cover of nct u's boss. however, one comment, in particular, caught your eye as others seemed to reply to it.

heeseung ✔ 2s ago wow that was amazing do you wanna do a collab sometime? 😊

line break insurance you've failed me 5x already

your eyes widen as you let out a gasp. "is that the lee heeseung?" you accidentally say out loud. you wince at the realization of your mistake. the comments are both praising you for your success in getting noticed by the other top dancer on youtuber and relating to your remark.

heeseung ✔ 3s ago haha yes it's me dm me if you want to hear more about it 🤍

"oh wow... this is really cool..." you state before blinking to get you out of your stupor. "well everyone, that's going to be all for y/n's motion of dance today! thank you so much for tuning in, love you!"

you wave goodbye for a few more moments and then shut off the broadcast, closing your laptop as soon as you do. you blink twice and suddenly let out a scream.

you stop with a gasp and cover your mouth with your hands because you cannot believe you forgot that your dance studio isn't the most soundproof of places. "sorry, other dance students..." you whisper to them but more for yourself.

taking a look around your escape, your passion, you can't believe you've made it to where you are, being praised as one of the top dancers on such a vast social media platform like youtube. if anything, you guess it runs in your family, after all, you are related to choi yeonjun, who is considered 4th gen's it boy.

though people were skeptical of you at first when you came on the youtube scene as a dancer after your older brother started taking more to modeling and acting, you quickly proved them wrong by showing them your talent and bloomed from then on. of course, you can't forget to mention the person who skyrocketed just around the same time as you.

and that was the aforementioned lee heeseung. you sigh as you finish packing up your clothes and things to head back to your dorm, glancing out the window to see the sun beginning to set. it seems today was a rare early finish for you.

"i could go for a coffee... i need to finish my classics essay anyway," you mumble to yourself, throwing your bag over your shoulder before hitting the showers and changing into a more casual set of clothes. the finishing touch is a baseball cap that sits snug on your head. tightening the strap on the back and grabbing your backpack and dance bag, you finally take your leave of your beloved dance studio and return the key on the way out. fresh air meets your face, allowing you to take a whiff of the cherry blossoms that have been blooming for a month or so as you make your way to the campus café.

ding ding, the coffee shop's calm doorbell welcomes you as your nose is hit by the sweet smells of freshly ground coffee beans. "welcome!" one of the servers calls at the counter, smiling at your figure that walks closer to order. "what can i get you?"

"hi, may i have..." you scan the menu quickly for a familiar drink. "a honey cinnamon iced latte please?"

"of course, name please?"

"choi y/n," you reply.

if they recognize you, they don't make any notion of it, simply scribbling your name on the plastic cup as you make your payment. you're grateful for the normal interaction and the peacefulness of the café, especially after a surprising stream. "i'll call you when your order's ready, choi y/n-ssi," they inform you with a warm grin.

"thank you," you smile back before going to find a seat. spotting a relatively private area close by with only a pair of boys sitting at the booth, you decide to take the booth two spaces away from them. one boy, you notice, sits taller than the other, but his face is covered by a baseball cap. the other looks like a freshman, his cheeks accentuated by a pair of deep dimples.

as you take your seat, you can't help but think the boy with dimples looks rather familiar but can't seem to place your finger on it. shrugging, you simply begin preparing to write your essay by taking out your laptop and notes from your classics ge. the moment you finish is when you hear your name being called.

"choi y/n-ssi, your honey cinnamon iced latte," the server's voice calls. on your way to receive your awaiting drink, you can finally hear the voices of the two boys sitting two booths down from you.

"did your crush just say choi y/n?" the one with the hat says.

'yes, that's me,' you think to yourself nonchalantly.

"weren't you just watching their stream, heeseung hyung?" another voice says as you pick up your latte and thank the server.

wait, heeseung? as in lee heeseung? it's when you turn around with your drink in hand that you notice the two males looking straight at you. now you're able to make out the features of the boy with the cap, and there's no mistaking it.

"lee heeseung?" you mutter out loud at the same time he speaks out yours.

well, maybe that wasn't what you were expecting today, but hey, life is full of surprises, even if they are one after the other for you. after that unexpected encounter, you and heeseung acquainted yourselves, he invited you to sit with them, and now you're sitting at their table, awkwardly sipping on your latte.

"right, so should i leave?" the other boy, who you found out is studytuber and vlogger yang jungwon (which is why he looked familiar to you), blurts out. you chuckle as heeseung shakes his shoulder lightly. "what? you two clearly have to talk about something, i need to study."

"yea, yea, lover boy. make sure you say bye to your crush on the way out," the male dancer teases, causing the younger one to turn bright red.

"don't call me that, hyung," he mutters before picking up his bag and leaving the booth. sure enough, you watch as jungwon passes by the counter and erupts into a nervous mess the moment the server beams at him.

"ah... so he likes them?" you think out loud.

"yup, it's been almost four months now. i'm the reason he even knows this cafe and that server exists," heeseung mentions, making you nod courteously. he turns his attention back to you with his hand placed under his chin. "but their relationship is besides the point. let's talk about us."

"d-did you have to put it that way?" the forwardness catches you off-guard, and you suddenly have a harder time swallowing a sip of your coffee.

"sorry," he says with a teasing smile. "i just think the collab i mentioned would be good for both of us, and it'll be really fun too."

"i agree, people who like you will come to me and vice versa," you nod. "but do you know what we would be dancing to?"

"so does that mean you're in?" he asks, smile starting to grow on his face. wordlessly, you roll your eyes and hold out your hand for him to shake. that's when his full smile comes out, causing your cheeks to heat up as you think about how much more handsome it makes him look. taking your hand, heeseung shakes it with his vigorously. "alright, dance partner, we have a deal."

after much deliberation and research, the two of you finally agree on troublemaker by the duo hyuna and hyunseung. heeseung suggested this song, stating that he always wanted to do the choreo with somebody and that it's destiny that both males have a name that starts with h and ends with seung. quite frankly, it's not like you could find much anyway, besides some cool music bank mc stages, it is cool that troublemaker was originally an opposite-gender duo in the korean entertainment industry.

the choreography however is an entirely different story. at many points, hyuna's body is touched by hyunseung and vice versa, but if they can do it and stay professional, then you believe you can too. besides, dancing will always be just dancing. heeseung also assures you that if you want, the two of you can just have your hands hovering, which makes you feel relieved to have an understanding partner.

hours pass by, and you and heeseung decide to meet at your usual dance studio daily after all your classes, which wasn't hard because he also frequented the same one.

"i still can't believe we attend the same university," you say aloud as the both of you pack up your laptops and supplies.

"i know right, you would think one of us would recognize the dance studio we go to 24/7, right?" he laughs. "although, i've seen you use a different one sometimes."

"do you really watch my covers and streams often?" you ask baffled. he and you wave the workers goodbye and make your way to the brisk evening air waiting outside as the staff sends you off.

"i do, is that so hard to believe?"

"a little," you reply sheepishly.

"well, let me walk you to your dorm and prove to you how much of a choi y/n stan i am," he boasts, and you let yourself laugh freely as you walk beside him to your destination.

it's strange, knowing a famous youtuber you watched also knew and followed you, but then again, you're not exactly nobody either. when heeseung drops you off, he admits that he actually lives a few floors above you and that you two can walk home together after each rehearsal. it's even stranger, knowing a famous youtuber literally has been on your campus, in the same dorm building as you, and this whole time, the two of you have both been clueless as to the other's existence as an ordinary college student.

speaking of which, he can't be a dance major, right? otherwise, you would've already seen him! these thoughts keep you tossing and turning to the point you don't register when you fell asleep. when you wake up, you feel as if you didn't get any sleep at all, but get up and ready nevertheless, going through another regular day as a dance major.

by the time your classes are over, you walk out of the studio yawning about to stop by your dorm to freshen up and maybe fit in a nap. you're holding a hand over your mouth mid-yawn when a voice starts talking to you.

"good thing i stopped by to get coffee." you open your eyes and close your mouth to see lee heeseung holding two cups of coffee. he's dressed in an oversized white shirt and grey sweatpants, a common dance practice outfit, so why is your heart skipping so many beats. "yo, choi y/n."

"heeseung," you say, still shocked. he hands you the coffee, which is actually the same flavor you got yesterday. "thanks."

"no problem," he replies coolly. "maybe we should take a break before we get to it?"

"i'll be fine, how about we can start watching the choreo?"

"they're always ready to dance," he nods with an impressed smile. "as expected of a dance major."

the two of you walk inside and book a studio for a few hours as you raise an eyebrow at him. "wait, what major are you?"

"music production."

"that makes so much sense!" you say relieved, stepping into the studio room for the umpteenth time. "i was racking my brains wondering what major you were."

"so the famous choi y/n is curious about me?" he smirks. you groan and facepalm in response. "i'm kidding, i'm kidding. let's watch the video on my tablet?"

nodding, the two of you watch carefully, eyes glued to the screen at your respective roles. you hold your breath at some touchy parts but also notice that both idols were able to shine in their solos.

"a few tweaks here and there, and it'll be perfect," heeseung comments once the video is over. "but let's go over some boundaries, yeah? let me know what you're comfortable with and what you're not."

"right," you agree, once again relieved to have such a safe and understanding partner like him. "well, i think i'm okay with you touching my arms, shoulders, and hips like hyunseung did to hyuna. i just need some time to get used to it."

"alright, that sounds good," he says nodding with a hand under his chin. "then for today, i'll just hover my hands over the places they need to be."

"what a gentleman," you tease.

he rolls his eyes playfully at you. "let's start marking."

and so that's what the two of you start on. with the video on the tablet, you go through the motions with the speed lowered, eventually picking up more moves until you're able to follow at the normal speed. as expected of the top two dancers on youtube, the two of you are quick on observing and learning the dance and get done with basic marking within 20 minutes or so.

after marking, you take a quick water break to watch the video again in full detail, officially beginning your first real practice. as promised, throughout the entirety of marking, heeseung has kept his hands to himself, but you've become comfortable enough to have him do a little more.

before you start practicing for real, you decide to speak with him. "hee," you call him as he puts down his water bottle.

"hm?" he confirms that you have his attention, looking up with his large doe-like eyes while wiping his mouth off from some excess water.

"uhm.." you fidget with your top a little before mustering up some courage. "you can do light touches now for the choreo."

"really? are you sure?" you nod at his question, causing him to come up to you and ruffle your hair lightly. you bat his hands away with a pout, smoothing out the mess he made as he laughs at you. "that's great, y/n," he says with a bright smile, unknowingly making your heart beat a little faster as you nod again. in your head, you rush to cover up the physical reaction with an excuse that it's just from the amount of exercise you've done.

the two of you stand in front of the mirror, ready to go. before the music starts, heeseung turns to you and says, "just let me know if i make you uncomfortable at all."

"i'll be fine," you reassure him with a small smile. that's when the song begins, and the sparks start to fly. every move flowed like water, yet every touch between the two of you was like electricity as if the two elements were working together instead of fighting. even though the touches are light, they still put chills up your spine, in a way that you can only describe with the phrase "meant to happen."

was fate moving its course to put this match together, or were you imagining it? you're not sure, but you grin while catching your breath once the first practice is over. falling to the floor softly, you sit with your hands splayed behind you and let out a relieved sigh. "ahh... dancing is so... great!"

heeseung chuckles at your reaction and offers a hand to get you up. "i'm glad you think that because we got a lot more practice ahead of us, partner."

"yup!" you say with a widening smile. the moment you took his hand, you felt an electric jolt that almost made you let go. getting up, you shake it off and barely catch the expression on your dance partner's face. "is something the matter?"

he blinks a bit before he's shaking his head with that charming smirk of his. "nope! let's practice!"

practice, practice, practice. that's how the next few hours go. and just like the day before, heeseung walks you to your dorm building, this time the conversation about how excited the two of you are for the recording.

that's basically how the next four or so days go, now that heeseung came into your life. your daily routine of wake up, eat, class, dance, repeat was shaken by him, because now he was a part of it. it's an indescribable feeling, hanging out with him. the best word, or phrase actually, is the same one you used while dancing with him: meant to be.

so when you finally get to the day of recording, you almost don't want it to end. at least, that's what you're telling your best friend and makeup artist, kim sunoo.

"friend, you're telling me that you and this guy have been following along to..." he tells you to look up as he curls your eyelashes. "a dance like that for four days and you've been getting shocks this whole time?"

"i mean, yeah?"

"y/n, i love you, but you're missing a little something, aren't you?"

"wha-!?"

"pucker up, sweetie, we're making your lips look kissable," sunoo commands. you do an eye-roll but do as he says. "if you don't ask him out or do something by the end of this, you can at least kiss your best shot at a boyfriend goodbye with luscious lips."

he finishes applying the color and asks you to rub your lips together and make that pop sound. "perfect," your best friend compliments. "go out there and get your mans."

"thank you, sunoo!" you say, gazing at your reflection in the mirror and loving the way he accentuated your features. "by the way, you're all talk. you should ask your celebrity crush out when they appear on your channel."

"i'll get there when i get there!" he whines and starts pushing you out of his dorm room. "just go get 'em, tiger."

with that, you make your way to the dance studio where heeseung is waiting for you, dressed in hyunseung's iconic suit with the leopard-patterned blazer. your heart quickens, seeing how much more handsome he looks dressed up, hair slicked back and some makeup done. he looks up upon hearing the door open and his mouth slightly hangs open as well.

the both of you are silent as you approach him, in your equally bedazzling outfit, sheer to mimic hyuna's stage dress. "you look amazing," the two of you say at the same time. stunned at the simultaneous sentence, you two immediately start guffawing at how this was unlike your usual interactions.

"that was so awkward!" you blurt out, unable to contain your laughter.

"yea, not like us at all," he admits while he wipes a stray tear from laughing too hard away. smiling at each other, you admire the way his eyes reflect your image and sparkle. "you ready to get this show on the road."

"ready as i'll ever be." the two of you get into your positions on the opposite ends of the room, and heeseung starts the camera and the music soon after. you take each step slowly to meet him in the middle as he takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to give it a kiss while smirking. you keep your face professional as the two of you take a few steps forward, the back of his fingers curled over the front of yours.

starting back-to-back, you walk forward a bit before the beat drops and heeseung's part begins. you're on autopilot as you dance your fingers from his chest to his shoulders, and then the chorus comes. hips swaying, you're able to feel his hands' light taps on your body as the two of you lose yourself to the music you've danced to hundreds of times this week.

then, it's your killing part as you lipsync hyuna's rap and take bold steps around heeseung's body, ending up behind him to bring your hands over his shoulders and make a scratching movement across his chest. you step towards his side, do your thing, and walk away as if playing hard to get.

you wait for his part during the bridge and make a side glance towards him before moving towards him and performing the hip-heavy part of the chorus together. your partner moves his face up along your arm, taking it in like you're a statue. you then act like you brush him away when heeseung gets close enough. after this second chorus, you're leaving him to do his big solo, watching carefully as he makes his every move precise and crisp yet flow well.

it's the last chorus now, and this time, you can't take your eyes off each other as you finally face one another. you stay drowning in his shades of brown without a single misstep until you have to walk away from him. you wait for him to come towards you, back slightly turned away as he jaunts forward, making his way to be captured by your hand behind his neck.

the last breath of the song is the one where you're supposed to turn your head away as his own chases yours, but this time, you brave forward and lean in close. the music fades away, but all you hear is his breathing, feeling it against your own.

you stay like this, ensnared in each other's arms, forgetting about everything except the person wrapped close to you as you feel his every breath against your lips and every inhale and exhale under your hand. he searches your eyes, looking for some kind of sign. "do you mind if i—"

that was all you needed before you're pressing your lips against his. it only takes seconds for him to kiss you back, moving his hands from their previous position on your hips to hold your face. becoming breathless from dancing was one thing, becoming breathless from kissing heeseung was another thing entirely, it was in a league of its own you note as you pull away and rest your forehead on his.

"we'll have to edit that out," you say after what seemed like ages of taking each other in while chuckling.

"i have a better idea than editing."

"oh, and what's that, handsome?"

"look at you getting all bold, troublemaker," heeseung replies with that smile of his. he shakes his head, moving away from you and taking your hand in his. "how about we go on our first official date as youtube's top dancer couple?"

"that does sound like a better idea," you agree, your own smile widening.

"then let's make it happen, sweetheart."

bonus! - click for full images

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki send an ask to join the taglist! :3c permanent taglist: @fiantomartell

a/n: wow this was a long one!! i'm not sure if i detailed all the movements well, but i hope you all enjoyed it nevertheless <3

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypenwriters #lee heeseung x reader #lee heesseung fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen oneshots #lee heeseung imagines #enhypen heeseung #captured on camera #this came out more detailed than i thought it would be JFAIJFA

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raziroo · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x motherfigure!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None, as far as I recall

Word count: 1398

Author's Note: Y'all i suck at titles i was so close to just naming this shit The Smile™. anywho enjoy this piece of motherly love churned out in like forty minutes.

She remembered how she’d found him. There was only the smallest crowd surrounding him, murmurs and whispers flitting back and forth. She’d been on her way to get groceries, initially ignoring the group of people herself, when the name ‘Naruto’ attracted her attention.

Naruto. Minato and Kushina’s son.

Instantly she’d stopped in her tracks, changing directions as to investigate what exactly was up. And oh, the condition the boy was in was enough to tug at her heartstrings - gashes and bruises were scattered across his body, peeking out from under the torn tatters of his clothes; blood seeped from his nose, his split lip, the multiple cuts his body had.

Shifting the bag so that it hung on her shoulder, the woman lifted the frail, clearly undernourished child up, and paying no heed to the villagers who were clearly appalled at the sight in front of them, she’d hurried to Konoha’s hospital.

It was while she paid for his medical expenses did the woman decide – she wouldn’t trust the poor child at the Hokage’s hands. However great a Kage may be, in the end of the day, he too was nothing at the hands of the people and politics. The villagers of the Leaf were bent on not accepting the boy solely because he was a Jinchuriki; a fate bestowed upon him by the Fourth Hokage, his father, the man the village worshipped. It truly was strange seeing all these mature adults resent a mere toddler just because he had the Kyuubi sealed inside of him. They didn’t realise that he was protecting them in a manner ever so sacrificial; they didn’t care that the Nine Tails would probably harm the boy more than it would ever them.

He’d woken up (jumped up, rather), began pestering her with questions. It was truly so sorrowful; the boy couldn’t – he simply wouldn’t – believe that someone would actually try to help him. When she’d told him that he was going to be living with her from then on, that she would be his guardian; oh, the sheer, unadulterated joy on his face shook the woman to her core. In all her years, in her entire thirty-three-year lifespan, never had the female witnessed an expression so pure – his euphoria shone through the shocked look on his face, and then through the face-splitting grin he wore.

He’d hugged her. She’d been surprised. After all, no child, even a four-year-old, hugged a stranger this freely.

She’d hugged him back anyways.

“Well, introduce yourself. It’s bad manners not to.”

“I’m Naruto Uzumaki, believe it! I’m going to become Hokage someday, you’ll see! The strongest Hokage ever!

“Oh?”

“Yes! I’ll save the village, and then its people will give me ramen!”

“Oh… you’re quite ambitious. Very determined too. I’m sure you’ll be Hokage, but for now, why don’t we get you something to eat? What would you like?”

“Ramen!”

She remembered the first time he’d called her ‘ma’. He’d been seven-years-old. She’d been putting him to bed, telling him fables of the Yondaime Hokage and his adventures. She hadn’t thought it wise to tell him that she’d been a mentor of his. That was a tale for another time.

She had crossed the threshold when she heard the little child’s voice call out to her.

“Yes, Naruto?”

“…Who were my parents? What were they like?”

“…”

“I - I’m sorry if you don’t wanna say it!”

“Your parents, Naruto, were two of the kindest, bravest people I’ve met. Your father was very charming, and your mother was beautiful. They were like prince and princess.”

“Oh. So… if they were prince and princess, then what am I?”

“Well, that would make you a prince, won’t it? When a prince and princess grow up, they become king and queen. So you’re prince.”

“Oh. You’re so intelligent! So you’re a queen too then?”

“Well… that depends. Would you want me to be queen?”

“Yes! I’m the prince, and the mother of a prince is a queen, isn’t she?”

“…Do you think of me as your mother, Naruto?”

“Of course! You take care of me, make food for me, buy clothes for me, tell me stories, put me in bed at night. That’s everything a mother does!”

“…”

“You’re my Ma, believe it!”

She’d kissed him goodnight. She might have shed a tear or two, too.

She remembered all their friendly banter. The quarrels over ramen, how she’d become a little stern, how he’d apologise fervently.

“Ma?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Can we have ramen for dinner today? Please?”

“Didn’t we have ramen for lunch yesterday? You can’t eat that all the time, you need to eat other stuff too, you know. Vegetables, fish, rice, miso -”

“But none of it is as good as ramen!”

“Really? You think so?”

“Yes! Believe it!”

“I do believe you, you knucklehead. But since you value ramen over my healthy, home cooked food, why don’t you make food for the rest of the week?”

“…Hah? No! Ma, I was kidding, believe it! Please, your food is great, it’s the best!”

“…Better than ramen, then?”

“Well, no, but -!”

She remembered when he left the village for training with Jiraiya. She couldn’t help but compare the scene of Naruto beside Jiraiya to Minato beside Jiraiya.

“Don’t be sad at all Ma! I’m gonna get stronger after training with Pervy Sage, and I’m gonna bring back Sasuke, believe it! I’ll save him from Orochimaru, that bastard -”

“Language, Naruto.”

“Sorry! But anyways, I’m gonna go now. Goodbye, Konoha! I know you’ll miss me! Bye, M – Ma? Ma, what -?”

“It’s nothing, you idiot. I’m your mother, aren’t I? Can’t I hug my boy goodbye?”

She remembered when he’d encountered Sasuke and Orochimaru.

“I was useless, Ma, useless! I couldn’t do a thing! I preached of bringing him back, but in the end, I turned out to be nothing but a pathetic loser who can’t even save his own friend! How am I ever gonna become Hokage?!”

“…”

“…Ma…?”

“…”

“Naruto, did you know I was part of ANBU?”

“W – wha -?”

“While my time there, I had many a companion, many a comrade. I remember them all to this day. There was one, though, one shinobi who stood out among all of us. When any of us would doubt ourselves, would try to blame ourself for a mission’s failure, he smacked us across the face. Be it girl or boy, he did not tolerate self-doubt and deprecation at any cost. He said that if we wished to be worthy shinobi, then pride mattered. If there was something that each and every human shares, it’s the sense of dignity and self-respect. No matter how big or how scarce, everyone has that. He taught me to never let my dignity be stripped of me. Because in the end, even when a man has nothing, he can always hold onto dignity. People who lose their sense of self and self-respect end up becoming like that Kabuto Yakushi. Don’t you ever, Naruto, ever think that you’re not worthy. You, my child, are the bravest, most kind-hearted shinobi I’ve met. It’s understandable that you’d feel weak after defeat at the hands of someone you call a rival, but I can assure you, you will bring Sasuke back. That’s something you can quote me on.”

She remembered how devastated and grief stricken he'd been when Jiraiya died, and how she had hugged him the tightest she'd ever hugged anyone. She remembered how he’d saved her, the Hokage, his friends and so many others when Pain had attacked. She remembered how he’d saved the village over and over. How he’d brought Sasuke back. How he’d rescued Hinata from the moon. How he’d come out victorious against Madara Uchiha, for God’s sake.

She remembered feeling struck when he’d smiled at her on his wedding day. Her boy had grown up, become tall, mature, become a man. But when he smiled at her, all she saw was the four-year-old whom she’d announced to that he was going to live with her.

It hadn’t been much of a surprise when that same blinding smile adorned his features when he had Boruto.

It was expected of him to smile at her that way when he had Himawari.

She felt so proud of him when he gave her the smile when he became Hokage.

Truly, her boy had grown up. He was the strongest shinobi to ever live, surpassing the God of Shinobi, his Master, his father.

Naruto Uzumaki. Her son.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto uzumaki #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #hatake kakashi #jiraiya #orochimaru #namikaze minato #uzumaki kushina #naruto x reader #naruto x motherfigure!reader

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hhjs · 4 years ago

Text

love or lack thereof.

pairing — felix x reader

genre / trope — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k

warnings — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences.

note — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him.

“I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know.

“Did he make you laugh?”

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say,

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually.

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.” You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

794 notes · View notes

sserpente · 4 years ago

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A/N: So this is a much requested Part II of this Christmas Imagine which I suppose you can also read on its own. Also has requests from @keepcalmandtravelonkate and @fandom-rpblog as well as the exclusive Zoom meeting idea. Haha, enjoy everyone! ♥

Words: 1822 Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve came sooner than you had thought and it was about as cheerful as you had imagined it. Thor greeted you with mug of steaming hot chocolate first thing in the morning, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater you had bought him last year and Tony was already in the spacious living room with Pepper to finish up the preparations for his annual Christmas party.

You spent the entire day baking biscuits and didn’t see Loki all day but for some peculiar reason you hoped that he too would attend the biggest Christmas party in New York City. Tony had invited everyone—no, that was not entirely true, the party was, in fact, for everyone—especially those who had no one else to spend Christmas Eve with or wanted to do so with none other than the famous Avengers.

With a sigh, you finished applying your red lipstick and admired yourself in the mirror. The green dress shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals had cost you way more than what you would normally spend on clothes but the occasion was worth it. You had only realised after that green was Loki’s colour too. Another sigh escaped your lips.

The God of Mischief and you had not really spoken since the roof-incident. Part of you wondered whether he was about as confused as you about what had happened between you, especially after Thor had interpreted your entanglement in a romantic manner, the other insisted you didn’t think too much of it. Loki was just… Loki. Mysterious, mischievous and handsome. Wait… handsome?

By the time you arrived at the party, more than two dozen guests had already arrived. Dressed in Christmas pullovers, suits or festive dresses much like you, they held small glasses full of mulled wine, eggnog or champagne, munching on biscuits and other Christmas treats and chatting with each other and the superheroes who had already joined the party guests, impressing them with their stories and their skills.

Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Loki standing only a few feet away from you. Heavens, he should not be allowed to wear suits. Instead of the light version of his Asgardian signature outfit you usually saw him in, the God of Mischief was dressed in an all-black suit complimenting his raven hair and tall figure. It was perfect to blend in and not attract too much attention, for many citizens still avoided him like the plague after everything that had happened only a few years back. Your eyes met, sending waves of electricity though you, and he nodded.

You furrowed your brows when somebody spoke your name. “Is that you?” Much to your dismay, you recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Derek, your ex-boyfriend. Derek who collected action figures of the Avengers and who owned a Captain America costume worth five-hundred dollars. Derek, who had cheated on you with other women and, upon your break-up, had blamed you for the sexual imbalance in your relationship. Needless to say, you had not exactly ended it on good terms. The last thing you wanted to do was chat to him of all people on Christmas Eve. Much rather, you’d finally spend some time with Loki again. He was fun to be around once he had warmed up to someone…

“I tried to text you like… a hundred times.”

“I saw. I blocked your number after fifty.” You retorted.

“Don’t be like that. I was going to make up, you know.”

“You literally told me it’s my fault that you went ahead and fucked other women behind my back, Derek!”

“Because you didn’t give me what I need in the bedroom, baby. We should have talked about that more. It wouldn’t happen again. Let’s talk about this. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay… Care to dance with me then?”

“Absolutely not.” You hissed.

“Come on. You are not here with someone, are you?”

You blinked. Fuck. Think, think, think. “Yes, actually.” You lied quickly. Your eyes fell on Loki who met your gaze again in a strange and almost affectionate way—something had definitely changed between you since he had helped you decorate the Avengers facility and you remembered, with butterflies in your belly, how he had caught you in his arms when you had fallen off the roof like a bird with broken wings. The idea came to you before you could properly think it through. Derek would never dare to defy someone like Loki. He was your perfect alibi to get rid of him.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. You probably know Loki?” Before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between you and put your arm under Loki’s. He did not fail to react. Turning away from Thor, he frowned and stared at your linked arms, then opened his mouth to question you. Much to your relief, however, the gesture did not seem to anger him.

You shot him a pleading glance. Play along, you thought. Please, take the hint.

“Are you serious right now?” Derek spat, a both disgusted and shocked expression on his face.

Much to your surprise—or maybe not—Loki wrapped his arms around your middle then, pressing you against his strong body. Your heart skipped a beat. This felt like him cradling you in his arms like a bride, only more… intense, for this time—this time, it was actually intentional.

Loki gave Derek a glare, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “Are you alright, my sweet mortal?” My sweet mortal? “I believe you have promised me a dance.”

Derek swallowed, blinking at you a few times—and then, without a word, he shook his head and disappeared in the burbling and dancing crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Good thing for you he’d always been a coward.

But while relief was flooding your veins, at the very same time, adrenaline set every single cell of your body on fire. Loki was still holding you. His lips against your skin had felt like the gentle kiss of a butterfly… You looked up, if anything not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was, given that by now, both Thor and Natasha had become rather taken aback witnesses as well.

“Thank you. I really owe you.” You muttered.

“I take it this was a former suitor of yours?”

You gave him a weak smile. “That’s a very elegant way to put it but yes, he is my ex-boyfriend. I left him when I found out he cheated on me—repeatedly. I panicked when he approached me and I knew he’d be scared of you.”

“Why thank you.” Loki replied with dismay before, much to your surprise, a smirk grew on his lips.

“No! I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. So?”

“S-so what?”

“He is still watching you. You would do well to keep up the act.” Loki said, keeping you from spinning around to check. But he was probably right either way. You had just announced in front of a bunch of strangers as well as your ex-boyfriend and two Avengers that Loki and you were dating. You were honestly surprised the Trickster did not at all seem too bothered by this very circumstance, not to mention what it meant for you. Ever since the roof-incident, you certainly didn’t mind clinging onto him like that.

“Dance with me.” He commanded softly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your waist while the other interlinked with yours. “He will lose interest if you feign easiness.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into him to not raise any suspicion and taking a deep breath when the side of your face connected with his chest. Loki rested his chin on the top of your head, weighing you gently from side to side as if the music was made of waves carrying you over an ocean. It was a classic playing right now—What are you doing New Year’s Eve by Ella Fitzgerald—sweet, calm… romantic. This evening was going in a very dangerous direction now but you couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in the God of Mischief’s arms. Who would have thought that putting up Christmas decoration together would create such a strong bond between two people… a mortal and a god on top of that?

“I got you a Christmas present, you know.” You murmured after a while.

His voice vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your cheek. “Did you now?”

“Hmm…” He stole away your ability to speak. That was so unfair! “I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning but… would you like me to give it to you now, in private?” It would be the perfect excuse to get away from here for a bit too, even if, in better lighting, Loki would probably notice your blushed cheeks.

“Lead the way, my sweet mortal.” There it was again. Smiling up at him sheepishly, you moved a step back and took his hand, practically fleeing from the scene.

Loki remained in the doorway when you reached your room. Whether it was out of decency or respect, you couldn’t quite tell. You crossed your room with quick steps, reaching for Loki’s gift under your bed. You had wrapped it in green paper and decorated it with a golden bow. A bit of a cliché perhaps but it looked just perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.” You said when you returned to him and handed it to him. He only took it hesitatingly.

“Why did you get me a gift?”

You shrugged. “I just wanted to be nice. I doubt the others will have gotten you something so I thought… just so you can unwrap something too?” You almost choked on your nervous laughter. “You know I almost decided not to give it to you after all after you almost drove me mad when I was hanging up the Christmas lights.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose you made that consideration before I saved your life.”

“More or less...” You replied, winking at him. Hey… this isn’t so hard after all!

Your heart was pounding in your chest by the time he unwrapped it, revealing the notebook and the green and gold fountain pen you had gotten him. It even came with green ink.

“It’s not much, really, just…” You said quickly. “I keep seeing you scribbling and reading a lot and I thought…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted. Honesty swung in his smooth voice, making your heart beat faster in an instant. At this speed, you were going to need an ambulance soon.

You smiled. “I ought to thank you. Derek is a dick. You saved me twice now, I’m in your debt.”

Loki chuckled once more, looking you deeply in the eye. “Yes. I believe you are.” It was, without a doubt, a promise.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente

1K notes · View notes

cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

An Irregular Romance ★ Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Summary: Over five years ago, Harrison followed his heart (a.k.a. you) to drama school, and the day he asked you out was the day he discovered you had a boyfriend. He thought that part of his past was behind him, but then he was cast as Leo in The Irregulars and you were cast as Bea. Romance and shenanigans ensue as he tries to navigate the resurrection of his crush on you.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: spoilers for The Irregulars, swearing, drinking (reader gets v drunk at one point), cheating boyfriend + “open relationship” drama

Masterlist in bio

*Gif is not mine

A/N: inspired by harrison literally saying he followed the girl he liked to drama school but she didn’t like him back; the drama school is the brit school (idk if that’s what he was talking about but age wise it works better); also darci is 18+ in this fic bc it just fits better to make her around their age; plus i had to re-post this bc the tags didn’t work so rip

also just like to say a massive thank you to @duskholland for proofreading this for me :) you’re the best! this fic would be missing 90% of its commas if it wasn’t for you lmao

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Harrison had been buzzing with excitement all week. While he knew for sure that he had landed the role of Prince Leo in The Irregulars, he had no idea who the other cast members were. His agent learned from Netflix that they’d announce the cast on Saturday, so now here he sat, anxiously awaiting the news as he drank another pint with his good friends.

“Anything yet?” Tuwaine asked, refreshing his Twitter timeline.

“Nope.” Harrison said with a shake of his head as Netflix’s Instagram page remained unchanged as another minute went by.

“Maybe they’re announcing it at midnight.” Tom shrugged, trying to be useful to ease his friend’s nerves.

“Everyone would be asleep.” The blond replied before taking another long drink of his beer.

“Well, congratulations whenever they officially announce it.” Harry stated, standing up with his empty glass. “Next round’s on me.”

The conversation began to wander off, and Harrison found himself deep in thought, pondering his mysterious, new castmates. Would he like them? Would they like him? Were they big names or no names? Were they people he had screen-tested with (because, truthfully, he only screen-tested with a few girls, but even then, he didn’t screen test with all of the potential actresses)? As he got stuck, trying to think of someone he’d actually liked when they screen-tested together, he was snapped out of his thoughts by Tom yelling.

“It’s up!” Tom held his phone in the middle of the table as he, Harrison, Tuwaine, and Harry, who was now back with more beer, looked over the cast. A sense of pride soared through the group at Harrison’s picture and name being on the official Netflix page for The Irregulars. Harrison read over the other names, wondering if he knew any by happenstance. Just as he recognized one name in particular, Tom spoke up.

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t that the girl you fancied in drama school?” Tom asked with a smirk. His smirk seemed to widen as Harrison blushed a deeper shade of red.

“No, no, no!” Harrison grumbled, taking out his phone to look over the post for himself because maybe, if he looked from his own account, the cast would magically change. When he looked at your name and picture right beside his, realization hit him. He slumped over, putting his head down on the table regretfully.

“I’d nearly forgotten about Haz’s girl that wasn’t his girl.” Tuwaine joked.

“Wait, what girl?” Harry questioned, out of the loop.

Perhaps the stupidest but best choice Harrison had ever made in his life was following you, his biggest crush, to drama school. Why his mother even let him chase after a girl like that was beyond him; he thought she should’ve advised him against it, but with the whole “follow your heart” attitude, his mum was his biggest supporter. He did his best to impress you, to get you to notice him, but you were unfazed by him. The day that he finally got the courage to ask you out was the day that he learned you’d had a boyfriend for the past two months.

Though he didn’t get the girl in drama school, he actually enjoyed it, and look where he ended up now— a new Netflix show was on the horizon for him. Despite the fact that he was (and still sort of is) crushed and embarrassed by the fact that you (very kindly) rejected him five years ago, drama school turned out to be a blessing.

“Harrison, here,” Tom laughed as he clapped his friend’s shoulder as Harrison still didn’t lift his head from his pitiful position, “thought he’d pursue acting because Y/N wanted to be an actress. He didn’t realize that in order to get her attention, he’d have to actually talk to her.”

That was enough to make Harrison lift his head, eyeing his friend questioningly. Cutting Tom off, he defended himself, “What do you mean? I did talk to her.”

“Right— you’d have maybe one conversation with her every three weeks.” Tom turned back to his brother, “Anyway, Haz finally asked her out and, turns out, she’d been dating this other guy for months.”

“Whatever. I only asked her out because you and Tuwaine shoved me into her. Maybe she doesn’t even remember me.” Harrison pulled out his phone to check over Netflix’s Instagram, wanting to see for himself the new cast again. When he opened the app, it notified him of all the new followers he had gotten, and, with one glance at the list of names, one account stood out to him.

‘@yourusername started following you’. Harrison let out a sigh, not wanting to dwell on this any further.

“She works fast.” Harry teased, looking over the blond’s shoulder.

“We’re co-stars now. She probably followed everyone else too.”

As if on cue, a new notification came through his Instagram— ‘@yourusername sent you a message’. With bated breath, he opened it to see the message that confirmed his worst fear— you remembered him.

‘Hey stranger! How have you been?’

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With every passing day, Harrison’s excitement for this new big project grew… but so did his dread about seeing you again. He wasn’t entirely sure now as to why his gut was filled with butterflies mixed with anxiety just thinking about you. You were only ever nice to him, both before and after he asked you out. It all led him back to the same conclusion that he still had a thing for you, but yet again, maybe it’s just life that your first real crush always has some power over you.

As he walked down the strangely long hallway to the conference room, he adjusted the collar of his letterman’s jacket. Today was the big day— the first table read for The Irregulars, and the first day he’d be confronted by you after all these years. Just on the other side of this door, his co-stars and the main production crew were waiting. Everything was real now; production would start in just a few days.

With one last nervous breath, he pushed open the heavy oak door and entered the room. People were chatting as they sat around the large conference table, which had small name cards at each seat. Harrison’s eyes found you almost immediately. You were locked into a conversation with your co-star, Darci, seated to your left for the table read. To your right was one of the last available seats, and Harrison’s name was on the little card on the table. All hopes of being unnoticed by you were instantaneously gone as he took his seat beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You said to Harrison with a laugh, and he was instantly reminded of how that laugh basically drove him to where he was today.

“How long has it been?” Harrison asked, trying to play it cool like he hadn’t been rehearsing this day in his mind for the past several months.

“Far too long.” You smiled.

As the last few people trickled into the room, introductions flew around the table as everyone met their new coworkers. After a cold read-through of the script and a few words from the show’s creator, the table read was deemed over. Just when Harrison thought he was free to forget about your existence for a few more days, you pulled him aside.

“Hey, Darci and I were going to get drinks with McKell and Jojo. You should come.” You offered, and Harrison chanced a glance across the room to where Darci was chatting with your other two main co-stars.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harrison replied. He cleared his throat before giving you a definite nod that yes, that’d be a great idea.

“Perfect.”

And just like that, the five of you made your way across town to a pub. Darci had chosen the spot, explaining that it was the best place for drinks in Liverpool, and, seeing as she’d lived there her whole life, none of you tried to argue with her.

Harrison felt a strange pit in his stomach as everyone talked and laughed over some beers, as if you weren’t all strangers a few hours ago. His eyes always seemed to land on you and your contagious smile. You looked almost exactly how he remembered you, and you still were the same happy, go-lucky girl he’d fallen hard for. It was crazy to him how quickly you gave him butterflies, how effortlessly you made him feel like a silly schoolboy all over again. He couldn’t help but wonder if you thought he’d changed since his school days, too… or if you even thought about him enough to notice. So far, you’d made no indication that he was anyone besides an old friend from drama school, making him hope you didn’t remember that dreadful day.

As you and Darci excused yourself for a bathroom break, Harrison gave himself a little reminder that he was meant to be getting to know all of his co-stars right now and wasn’t meant to be focusing so intently on you. He took another sip of his beer, turning back to Jojo and McKell.

“So how do you and Y/N know each other?” McKell asked, and Jojo tried to hide his shit-eating grin behind his beer.

“Drama school, a few years ago.” Harrison replied, trying to play ignorant.

“Ah, so it’s a schoolboy crush, then?” Jojo questioned teasingly.

Harrison felt his face heat up. Jojo and McKell were practically strangers to him, and they already knew. He was cornered, “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” McKell said while Jojo simultaneously replied, “Very.”

“Just ask her out.” Jojo encouraged.

“That’s the problem— I did.” Harrison replied, and both of their jaws dropped.

“No way. Did she let you down easy at least?” McKell’s voice was somewhere between a disbelieving, teasing, and pitiful tone.

Harrison scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, yeah? I mean she wasn’t rude about it, but it was still a bit awkward. She was dating this other guy at the time. He didn’t go to our school, though, so I had no clue about him.”

“That’s rough.” Jojo grimaced, before he gave Harrison a hopeful smile, “Maybe she’s single now.”

“I’ve been rejected by Y/N once— I don’t need her to reject me a second time.” He shook his head with a small laugh to conceal his embarrassment. He took a drink of his beer, hoping that would calm his nerves a little.

“Incoming,” McKell said quietly, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

“What’d we miss?” Darci asked as she slipped back into her seat. You remained standing to put your jacket on, both you and Darci completely unaware of the boys’ conversation.

“Nothing, just Jojo being an idiot.” McKell joked, to which his newfound friend just punched him in the arm, taking another long drink of his beer.

“I think I might head back to the hotel.” Your words were met with a collective groan from three of your co-stars— Harrison silently frowned as he sipped on his beer.

As your head was down to collect your things, Jojo swiftly kicked Harrison under the table. Harrison looked at him quizzically, sending him a “what the hell was that for” look. When his co-star just nodded his head encouragingly towards you, Harrison got the idea.

“I’ll walk you.” Harrison said, making you look over at him. Standing up from his seat, he insisted, “I was just about to head out, too.”

“Okay,” You smiled, still completely unaware of his interaction with Jojo.

After you all exchanged phone numbers and created a group chat lovingly titled “The Irregz”, you and Harrison left the pub. You fell in step together, walking along the sidewalk in the chilly Liverpool air back to the hotel that you’d all be staying at for the next few months.

“So what have you been up to since graduation?” Harrison asked you, his hands deep in the pockets of his letterman’s jacket.

“All sorts of things, really.” You shrugged with a smile, “I got a few TV roles here and there, did some modeling, but so far none of it has really stuck, so I’m hopeful that this will be a foot in the door. What about you?”

“The same as you, really, but, instead of shows, I’ve done some short films.”

“I see you’re still best friends with Tom.” You said in a teasing tone. Harrison felt an unusual, upsetting tug on his heartstring. Not noticing any change in his demeanor, you continued with a laugh, “It’s funny. I would’ve placed my bets on you being world-famous after graduation.”

“Me?” He questioned, surprised by your words.

“Yeah, you didn’t go to LAMDA for nothing.” You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, and he felt his cheeks heat up once more. “Don’t be modest— I’m not wrong.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” A laugh passed his lips, any previous bashful reservations slowly fading away.

Before Harrison could say anything further, your phone began to ring. You fished it out of your pocket and barely looked at the caller ID before sending it to voicemail. Your actions were fast, but Harrison still caught the name of who was calling, Davey, followed by a red heart emoji. And that’s when it hit him— you were still with the same boyfriend from drama school, all those years ago.

And just like that, Harrison felt a tsunami wave of heartbreak from drama school wash over him.

“Hey, Y/N!” Harrison called out as he stumbled his way over to stall you from leaving school. He had one hand holding onto his book bag strap tight enough that his knuckles were turning white, and he shuffled his other through his hair.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked, concerned at how nervous he seemed.

“Yeah, um, well, tonight’s opening night for West Side Story, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? I know it’s your favorite play, and it’s one of mine too, so, yeah, I thought maybe we could go together?” He was sure that he’d never sounded so unsure of himself. Truth is, he didn’t want to ask you out right now, but Tom and Tuwaine had quite literally shoved him in your direction, physically encouraging him. He felt rushed and unprepared.

When you smiled so captivatingly and softly at him, he felt his racing heart speed up even more. Was this it? Was he really going to take you on a date? He thought to himself. His hopes weren’t up for long as you spoke up, “I can’t. I’ve already got tickets for tonight. I’m going with Davey.”

“Davey?”

“My boyfriend.” You replied, a hint of guilt in your voice.

His heart shattered. The only reason he was here, at this school, was because of you, and now he just had all of his hopes for any future dates with you thrown out the window.

“You and Davey are still together?” Harrison wondered aloud as you two arrived at the hotel.

“Yeah,” Your response was hesitant and quiet. He knew why— there was that elephant in the room between the two of you.

Before he could stop himself from mentioning it, he blurted out, “You don’t have to feel guilty about it, you know.”

You paused, watching unsure as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I kinda wonder what would’ve happened if I had said yes. Davey and I didn’t even end up seeing West Side Story, anyway, so I wonder if you and I would’ve ended up any differently.”

It wasn’t much, but his heart sped up ever so slightly— so you had thought about him, even in the dating context. Harrison couldn’t think of a response (his brain repeated “fuck Davey, ask her out again”) fast enough as you stopped at the front desk. You mumbled something about needing some towels, and Harrison took that as his cue to just continue walking. He bid you a quick farewell, wanting to escape to his room as fast as possible.

Nothing you had said tonight had been particularly flirty, but he still rewound the events in his head because maybe he missed something. As he laid down in his bed that night, his mind drifted off with thoughts of you, wondering just how he’d manage to pull off these next few months without falling for you all over again.

Over the next several weeks, his predicament only seemed to grow. Spending so much time with you (and your other three co-stars) just made Harrison wish even more that he’d asked you out sooner in drama school, and having to spend most of his screen time gawking over you added to it further. Maybe it was another school boy crush, or maybe it was intense method acting— either way, he definitely liked you.

Ever since he read the script for episode four, he knew that eventually your two characters would become romantically involved. He would’ve felt giddy over the thought (because his eighteen-year-old self would’ve died at this opportunity), but whenever he thought of the scene, he was reminded about your boyfriend. Harrison wasn’t the type of guy to hate his crush’s boyfriend, but something just didn’t seem right about Davey.

Harrison was lying on his hotel bed, reading over the episode’s script for what must have been the fifth time through that afternoon. It was Sunday, the day before you’d both film Leo and Bea’s kiss. With a beer on his side table and an array of highlighters beside it, he was set. As the words started to run together, and his glasses began to feel uncomfortable on his nose, he heard a knock at his door.

“Coming!” Harrison called out. Setting his script aside, he rolled off the bed. He was confused at who could possibly be at his door, but, figuring it was someone from set, he had the decency to slip on a white t-shirt, opting for not answering the door in nothing but grey sweats. He was thankful for his last-minute decision as he opened the door and was met with you on his doorstep. Smiling at you and leaning on the doorframe, he let out a small, “Hey.”

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to rehearse tomorrow’s scene.” You offered with a friendly smile on your face.

“Right now?” He asked, glancing back into his room to decipher if it was clean enough or not.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” You replied, subconsciously stepping back. “Is someone here?”

“What?” Harrison looked at you, confused before it clicked what you thought, “Oh, no, no. There’s no one here. I was just rehearsing, too.”

“So is that a yes then or-?” You trailed off.

“Yeah, come on in.” He opened his door fully, allowing you to step in. He chivalrously closed the door behind you. “Would you like water or anything?”

“Can I have a beer?” You asked, spotting the one on his nightstand.

“Sure.” Harrison nodded. While he got you a beer and grabbed his own half-consumed bottle and script, you settled on the couch with your pages in hand.

“Thank you.” You smiled as he handed you the beer, and you took a sip happily. “You know, I’m honestly so jealous of you this week.”

“Why?” He asked with a laugh, thrown off guard by your confession.

“You get to do all the palace scenes again.”

“I also throw myself off a balcony.”

“But still.” You insisted. “Leo really needs to sneak Bea into the palace just so I can have one of those extravagant ball dress scenes. I just want to feel like a princess, and I feel like it’s what Bea deserves.”

Harrison looked at you admiringly for a moment. “You are a princess.” His face dropped as soon as he realized he’d said his thoughts aloud. Coughing, he tried to cover it up, “I mean—- you were kind of princess-like in episode 3, right?”

“Smooth.” You laughed, but didn’t press the situation. Your phone began to ring, and Harrison watched as you rolled your eyes, declining the call and ultimately silencing your phone.

“Spam call?”

“More like clingy non-committal somewhat boyfriend.” You stated, rolling your eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. You hadn’t mentioned Davey in the past few weeks— not that Harrison was complaining, but he just assumed you were private about your personal life. “I thought you and Davey were on good terms?”

“We are? I don’t know.” You sighed, taking a sip of your beer.

“If you’re not comfortable with the topic, we can just rehearse-”

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t really talked about it with anyone. Before I came here, he asked about having an open relationship while I’m away, and I told him no. And the last time we talked, we got into an argument and that was a couple days ago. I’m not ready to talk to him, and at this point, I’d much rather talk to you than him. It’s very frustrating that he wants to have an open relationship, but he still expects me to be at his beck and call. It’s like he’s looking for someone to substitute me, but I can’t have a life of my own. He wasn’t the most supportive of me taking this job in the first place, too.” You paused, with a small shrug, “I know you’re probably thinking I should leave him, but I can’t. We’ve been together for 5 years. I don’t know anything else at this point.”

“I get it.” Harrison said softly, hesitantly resting a comforting hand on your knee. “He was your first love. It makes sense that it’s hard to move on.” He felt his own heart sink at his ironic words. After all, you were his first love.

“I wouldn’t say he’s my first love.” You said softly, placing your hand on his, squeezing it gently. “Plus, at this point, I wouldn’t even say I love him.”

A silence fell in the room. Harrison really didn’t know what to say now. He would have told you to leave him, but you already knew that, so what was the point in him repeating it? Besides, it was your relationship, and you needed to make the decision for yourself… or let Davey make it for you.

“Let’s go through the scene, yeah?” You asked, changing the topic. You dropped his hand to pick up your script again.

“Right.” Harrison mumbled to himself, flicking through the pages to the scene.

You glanced around his hotel suite for a moment, looking for something similar to a bridge rail to lean on. “Should we use the kitchen counter? As the bridge rail?”

“Yeah, that works.” He nodded. The two of you got up, scripts in hand. Harrison stood to your right, just as the stage direction had called for. There was some space between the two of you, enough room for Harrison to shuffle closer to you later, as scripted.

“You’re not on your own, Beatrice. You must remember that.” Harrison said to you, leaning on the counter but looking over to you with his icy blue eyes. “You’re very different to anyone I’ve ever met.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking at him curiously.

“You have something about you.” He started, awkwardly.

You cut him off, “Like a smell?”

“No, like a quality.” He chuckled softly before continuing, “I don’t know what it is, but I really like it.”

“Well, when you think of it, let me know.”

“I’ll be sure to.” He smiled at you, his confidence slowly building as the scene continued on. Harrison stepped closer to you until he was right beside you, leaning sideways on the counter. “And I’m not saying you don’t smell, by the way. I’m just saying that that’s not the thing.”

You laughed, turning your head away from him in disbelief. “You know, I was thinking of kissing you, but now I’m not gonna.”

Harrison paused, taking a moment to mentally hype himself up for what was about to happen, but also taking a moment because it was scripted for Leo to be nervous. “Well, uh, I suppose I have to kiss you then.”

You turned to him, smiling coyly. Slowly, Harrison closed his eyes and leaned in. His heart started racing faster as he felt your breath fan against his face before his lips finally found yours. It was gentle and hesitant, everything that it had been scripted to be. As much as he wanted to keep kissing you and keep tasting the sweet strawberries of your lipgloss, it had to end. He pulled away after a moment, and you seemed almost breathless as you opened your eyes to see him again.

“I meant it when I said you’re not on your own.” Harrison looked at you with more hesitancy this time, but he still kissed you with the softest passion. The script said that Leo and Bea kiss and continue to kiss for a few seconds; Harrison wasn’t counting, but he was sure this kiss was longer than it was meant to be. Again, he found himself dreading its inevitable end. If there was one thing he could do for the rest of his life, it’d be this… well, this amongst other things with you. His stomach started to stir with guilt as he remembered Davey; you were still technically in a relationship, open or not, arguing currently or not. But then it clicked with Harrison, you weren’t pulling away— no, you were fully kissing him back.

Before he could pull away and end the scene with his last few lines, a knock came from his door. Regretfully, he stepped away from you. He didn’t meet your eye as he went to answer the door while you read over the script on the counter. Flustered, he opened the door.

“Mum! You’re here.” Harrison’s eyes went wide, surprised to see his mother and his sister standing before him.

“Surprise!” She smiled, hugging him almost immediately. “We had to come and see you at your big job.”

“Are you not happy to see us?” Charlotte teased, and Harrison shook his head, pulling her in for a hug. As they all stepped into Harrison’s apartment, you waved from the kitchen.

“Hi.” You smiled, coming over to introduce yourself.

“Oh, mum, Charlotte, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mum and Charlotte, my sister.” Harrison introduced the three of you.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N from drama school?” Phil said with a smile, making the connection as you shook her hand. Charlotte seemed to stifle a laugh as Harrison’s cheeks heated up.

“Yes, that sounds like me.” You laughed, brushing off any awkwardness that Harrison feared was there. “We were just rehearsing our scene for tomorrow.”

“Maybe we can come to set.” Phil suggested, sending Harrison an expectant look.

“I’ll have to ask. This is so, so last-minute, though, so I don’t know.” He replied.

“It’s a spontaneous weekend trip.” Charlotte clarified.

“We should get some dinner. We haven’t eaten much all day.” Phil told Harrison before turning to you, “Y/N, you should come, too. It’d be so lovely to get to know you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You trailed off, glancing at Harrison. He sent you a silent look that said ‘she seriously does want you to come… If you don’t come, I won’t hear the end of it’. “I’d love to. I just need to go change first.”

You grabbed your script off the counter, and Harrison walked you to the door. “How long do you need?”

“Like 10 minutes?” You replied, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were coming, or that they’d invite you to dinner.” He said quietly, making you laugh.

“It’s fine, but I do have to warn you, if my parents spontaneously drop by, they don’t know who you are.” You teased.

He let out an embarrassed groan, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“See you in ten.” You sent him a wink before leaving to your own hotel room. As Harrison closed the door and turned back around, he was met with the smirking faces of his mother and sister.

“So, is there anything you want to tell us?” Phil asked.

“We were rehearsing. That’s all.” Harrison insisted, going through the wardrobe to find some clothes to change into for dinner.

“Huh,” Charlotte trailed off, crossing her arms. “So, you wearing sparkly lip gloss that matches Y/N’s is a coincidence?”

“It’s a kiss scene tomorrow. We rehearsed the lines and the kisses, too.” He explained. With a pair of jeans, a clean shirt, and his red letterman jacket in hand, he made his way to the bathroom.

“Oh, multiple kisses.” She teased, making him roll his eyes.

“She has a boyfriend!” Harrison ended the conversation, closing the door to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you returned back to Harrison’s room, and the four of you left, making your way to an Italian restaurant nearby. You and Harrison shared anecdotes about filming so far, keeping spoilers to a minimum until the server came with your food.

“We got in so much trouble from the makeup and hair department.” You laughed as Harrison finished telling them of how you two went on the playground last week, much to the chagrin of the crew.

“It was worth it.” He added.

“Who would’ve known you’d play a Netflix prince?” Charlotte asked teasingly, but it was clear she was still proud of his achievements.

“Look at that face. He couldn’t play anything but a prince.” You joked, and he smiled smugly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stated.

“Phil, I have to say, I’ve never met someone more well suited to play a well-mannered prince.” You told her, playfully pinching Harrison’s cheek beside you.

“I remember when there was a time he was revolted at the idea of playing a prince.” Phil said, her lips growing into a smirk, and Harrison knew exactly what that meant.

“Mum, no—“ He started, but you just shushed him, wanting to hear whatever embarrassing story was about to be told.

“He watched a single Batman movie growing up— and not even a good one at that, and decided he simply had to be Batman.” She explained. “Then the Christopher Nolan ones came out, and there was no stopping him.”

“Every kid wants to be a superhero, and Batman is simply the best one.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I didn’t know you had a Batman phase.” You teased.

“Phase? He still has posters and comic books and dolls.” Charlotte added.

“Action figures.” He corrected her, making you laugh at the humor of it all.

“You know, honestly, I think I still have Catwoman action figures.” You admitted, trying to make him feel better, and Phil’s eyes lit up as she remembered another story.

“I cleaned your room a couple weeks ago, Harrison, and I was surprised to see you still Anne Hathaway as Catwoman posters.”

“Do we really have to talk about that? Does this torture not end?” He groaned.

“Fine. That’s enough for tonight.” Phil let out a defeated sigh, clearly enjoying herself.

“Y/N, if you want the really embarrassing stories, you’ve got to talk to Tom. He’s told me embarrassing Harrison stories that I can’t say in front of mum.” Charlotte laughed, and Harrison’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at his sister’s words.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled coyly.

“Sometimes, I wonder if he forgets that I know just as much embarrassing shit that he did growing up, too.” Harrison stated, shaking his head.

The night went on with minimal embarrassment on Harrison’s end. After Phil and Charlotte went back to their hotel, you and Harrison started the walk back to your own hotel. As you walked, your hands would brush against each other’s every so often, but neither of you made any move to take it further.

“Darci’s going to be so jealous in the morning.” You said, making him laugh a little.

“Why’s that?”

“That’s her favorite restaurant in town. Plus, I just got a free meal.” You laughed. A visible shiver coursed through you as the chilly night air picked up.

“Are you cold?” Harrison asked, already taking off his letterman’s jacket.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking his offer of warmth. Your short sleeves did nothing to shield you from the cold, but he had at least been prepared enough with long sleeves. “Are you sure you won’t get chilly?”

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured you.

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad your mum invited me.” You admitted happily.

“Me, too. Apart from all of the embarrassment I just went through, I enjoyed tonight.”

“I never knew you had a secret Batman fanboy side.”

“I never knew you had a secret Catwoman fangirl side.” He countered with a smile.

“Guess that means we make a good team, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

As you smiled at him, completely content under the moonlight, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you right then, to taste the sweetness of your strawberry lip gloss again. The last bit of your walk was filled with you two arguing over Batwoman and Catwoman, two things that neither of you had ever realized you had in common before.

Harrison’s wish finally came true the next day, as you two ran through the kiss scene multiple times. It was strange at first for him, because his sister and mother were intently watching, proud to see him in action, even if it was just a kiss scene over and over again. But, with you there, he grew more and more comfortable with each take.

As a few more weeks passed by, Harrison thought that perhaps you and Davey had officially ended things, but then he heard through Darci that you had magically worked it out. Whatever magic it was, he was upset about it, and he found himself increasingly irritated at the mention of Davey.

“Ooh, we finally get to meet the Davey tonight?” Darci asked as the five of you enjoyed lunch in between shots. It had been two weeks Harrison’s mother and sister visited, and now Davey was coming, much to Harrison chagrin.

“He’s only here for two days.” You explained, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Ah, so you’ll be very busy, then.” McKell teased, suggestively nudging your side with his elbow. You brushed off his comment with a laugh, avoiding Harrison’s eyes.

“We should get him to do that calzone challenge with us.” Jojo said to Harrison. Although Jojo and McKell had been rather supportive of Harrison’s interest in you at the beginning, they seemed to forget about it most of the time now— for which he was actually kind of grateful.

The conversation couldn’t go any further as the director came into the room, holding the script in his hands. The look on his face told all of you that something was up. He looked between you and Harrison before speaking, “Change of plans for tomorrow. Eileen isn’t feeling well, so we’ll film Bea and Leo’s scene tomorrow instead of her scenes.”

“But tomorrow was supposed to be—“ You started, but cut yourself short, realizing there was no point in arguing. Schedules, plans, things all change, and this was just part of the job. “Never mind.”

“Well, tomorrow will be interesting.” Darci said quietly, voicing what was on everybody’s minds.

The director left with a silent nod, and the room fell silent for a moment. You and Harrison wouldn’t dare to look at each other, both of you feeling awkward suddenly. Making out with Harrison multiple times, especially with your boyfriend there, was not something either of you particularly enjoyed the thought of.

Having to film no more scenes today, Harrison went back to the hotel with Jojo and McKell. He didn’t end up seeing you for the rest of the day, but he was okay with that as he wanted to go as long as he could without meeting Davey. The director had taken some pity on the two of you, asking you to come in later in the morning instead of at 6 AM like usual.

Harrison made his way down to the hotel gym, wanting to utilize his newfound free time. Normally, he’d get his daily workout in after filming, but he didn’t see a reason to not get an early start today. He didn’t expect anyone to be up this early, but as he got closer to the gym, he could hear a voice coming from inside the room, the door cracked just slightly.

“Love, I promise I’ll be back in two days.” The stranger paused before continuing, “You know I’m only here for business, nothing else.”

Curious and trying to decide if he should even enter the room, Harrison snuck a quick glance through the crack in the doorway. He felt his blood run cold as he immediately recognized the guy sitting on the weight bench. Afterall, Harrison had looked at your social media enough to recognize your olive-skinned boyfriend, Davey.

“Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Harrison nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice from down the hall. He heard Davey mumbled something on the other side of the door, probably having heard your voice too.

“Yeah, but I just figured I’d start my pull-ups early today.” He replied before opening the door for you, acting like he had no clue that Davey had been in there.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Davey said to you, completely ignoring Harrison. He stood from his spot at the weight bench to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you possessively.

“Davey, this is Harrison, he plays Leo. Harrison, this is Davey.” You introduced the two guys.

Davey looked Harrison up and down with his dark brown eyes and seemed to stand straighter, even though the blond was inches taller. Harrison was the first to step forward and politely outstretch a hand to the raven-haired guy before him. With a tight smile, Davey shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Davey turned back to you, “Spot me?”

“Actually, I wanted to-” Your eyes drifted over to the treadmill as Harrison got in position to start his pull-ups at the bar. Davey looked at you expectantly, and you nodded, silently agreeing to stand there and spot Davey while he bench pressed.

Slipping on his headphones and turning on some music, Harrison began his workout. He played his music loud enough to block out your conversations with Davey. Not only was it none of his business, but god, Harrison really hated everything about him already. Hearing silence between you and Davey when his song changed, Harrison spared a glance over towards you. He was surprised when he found your eyes trained on him or, rather, trained on his abdomen that seemed to stick out from his tight white shirt. Still unaware of his eyes on you, your own eyes trailed up to his arms, watching as they flexed with each pull-up. Feeling flustered by your fixed gaze, Harrison faltered a little, and your eyes immediately darted back to Davey in front of you. Harrison couldn’t help the proud smile that ghosted his lips as he continued— you were checking him out.

Harrison finished his workout and decided to get cleaned up before heading to set in half an hour, leaving you and Davey in the gym. When he left, he was surprised that you were still spotting Davey, getting no work out in like you had planned. The whole time he was getting cleaned up (and brushing his teeth repeatedly to ensure he had good breath), he just kept picturing your staring in his head. He had worked very hard to get his body in this shape, and he was very proud of himself too, but he was even prouder that you’d clearly taken notice. If anything, it almost excited him that they’d be filming this scene today. There were a few times in this episode specifically in which Leo is shirtless, but none of those scenes had been filmed— and if this scene was going to be anything like it was scripted to be, then you’d definitely get a better show than in the hotel gym.

He didn’t see you again until the two of you were on set, in full costume and makeup. He had a loose shirt on, but underneath it, his chest had been painted with blues and purples to make convincing bruises. As he went to his mark, Leo’s makeshift bed on the floor of the cellar, Harrison spotted Davey across the set, looking bored and unhappy. His blue eyes drifted over to you next, and he refrained himself from smirking as he noticed your makeup artist applying chapstick to your lips.

While you gathered your prop lantern and the lights dimmed around you all, Harrison made himself comfortable under the ragged blankets. The director called out “Action!” and Harrison closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he waited for you to come into the shot. Hearing your footsteps, Harrison stirred, blinking his eyes open.

“Bea, is everything alright?” He asked, looking up at you as you stood over him.

“Let me see your body.” You said definitively.

“Beatrice—” He started, but you cut him off.

“Show me, Leo. I want to see it.” At your words, Harrison shifted slowly, moving as if in pain. He pulled the blankets down and went to roll up his shirt. “Take your top off.”

He paused, looking at you questioningly with a hint of fear in his eyes. Groaning a little, Harrison sat up and removed his shirt. He looked at you expectantly, and you set aside the lantern before kneeling on the blankets beside him. Your hand drifted over the painted bruise tentatively, ghosting over the same abs that you had been studying just hours earlier. Harrison waited for you to deliver your next line, knowing he was scripted to kiss you after it. It felt like ages that he was waiting for you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right now. His mind went blank as your eyes found his and you leaned in to kiss him.

It was unscripted, and he was surprised, but he didn’t let his surprise stop him from immediately kissing you back. Your chapstick tasted of strawberries, just as it had the last time the two of you had a kissing scene, and he swore he was in love with the taste of it. He expected to hear the director yell cut, to hear him question why you suddenly improvised, but when nothing came, he just continued to kiss you. You pulled back, a shy smile on your face, “I don’t want you to hide your body from me anymore. It’s too nice to be hidden.”

His heart leapt as he leaned forward to catch your lips once more, this time scripted. His hands shuffled to your waist, pulling you down to lay beside him as he rolled onto his side, his chest leaning over yours. Your fingers tangled into his hair, and he savored the feeling.

You pulled back again, whispering up to him, “No more hiding.”

“No more hiding.” He reaffirmed. As he continued to kiss you, his hands sensually wandered down your back, keeping you as close to him as possible. Part of him wanted to pause the intimate scene and pinch himself, just to make sure it was really happening, but he was worried if he stopped kissing you now that he’d never get the opportunity to kiss you like this again.

“Cut!” The director called, and Harrison reluctantly pulled away from you. He could’ve sworn a small frown passed your lips as he looked down at you, not having shifted off of you yet.

“Spearmint— my favorite.” You teased quietly, as if it was only for the two of you to hear. As you laughed underneath him, Harrison couldn’t help but wonder what his younger self would think if he knew he’d one day get to make out with Y/N Y/L/N. Even if it was just for the show, it was a sight that he’d always want to remember.

“I’ve always enjoyed the taste of strawberries.” He replied softly, rolling away from you.

The director ran you two through a couple pointers for the scene, and, to Harrison’s surprise, he even suggested Bea kissing Leo first, just like you had improvised. You reasoned that you forgot your line momentarily, but something about the way you kissed Harrison made him feel like that wasn’t the case; no, it seemed like you’d truly wanted to kiss him.

After running through the scene a few more times, the director was satisfied. While you stayed behind on set to film more scenes, Harrison returned to his hotel room. Just as he was searching his toiletry bag for some much-needed chapstick, his phone began to ring with a Facetime call. Seeing Harry’s contact photo light up on his screen, he accepted and set his phone aside momentarily. He didn’t need to wonder what Harry (and most likely Tom, Tuwaine and maybe even Sam) were calling about— he had made the dire mistake of telling his easily-excited best friends about today’s scene.

“Why are we looking at your ceiling?” Harry asked almost immediately.

“I’m, uh, looking for lip balm.” Harrison admitted quietly and smiled to himself when he found some. He quickly put it on and then grabbed his phone, heading to his bed where he could comfortably talk to his friends.

As expected, his friends let out an incoherent chorus of excitement. Sam seemed to calm down enough first to ask (more like, shout through the phone), “How was it?”

“Does she really kiss with tongue? Remember Jack used to say-” Tom started, and Harrison scoffed, hearing the name of one of their old classmates who swears he had a summer fling with you once.

“I still don’t believe him, but no, not today at least.” Harrison was honestly a bit embarrassed to admit it. You were in a relationship… with a possibly cheating moron, but still. It just didn’t feel right to talk about you in that way.

“Not today? So there could be another time!” Tuwaine shouted encouragingly.

“Is she still with that prick?” Tom asked.

“Yes, but,” Harrison paused, and they all looked at him expectantly, waiting for elaboration, “I think he might be cheating on her.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry questioned. “Mate, just because you fancy her doesn’t mean her boyfriend’s a cheater.”

“No, I mean I heard him on the phone, and he said he was in Liverpool for business, not for his girlfriend.” He reasoned, “I’m just very suspicious of him.”

“You should tell her if you think he is.” Sam stated, “If he isn’t, then, oh no, you’re on bad terms with her boyfriend, who probably already hates you after today. If he is, well, she’d hate you if she finds out you kept it from her.”

Harrison let out a small sigh as the others nodded. “I don’t know. It’s not my place. Besides, she said something a few weeks about him wanting an open relationship. Maybe it’s that?”

“Okay, look, forget I asked about him.” Tom said, shaking his head, while the others looked at Harrison skeptically through the phone, “How was it to finally have your drama school dreams fulfilled?”

“Fucking heaven.” Harrison admitted with a laugh.

For the next week, Harrison resisted the urge to tell you about Davey. He wanted to, he really did, but whenever he’d finally be alone with you and mentally prepare himself for the conversation, you would always just seem so happy and content. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb your happiness, especially when it was Harrison making you happy. After Davey left, it’s like something changed within you, and Harrison had no clue what it was, but he enjoyed it.

‘You have to tell her.’ Harrison read over his most recent text from Tom again. He let out a small sigh, trying to get the courage to tell you as you sat across from him at the booth.

It was Saturday, and you two, along with Darci, Jojo, and McKell, had made your way to a club, wanting to celebrate another week down. With only two episodes left to film, you all knew your time together was starting to run low. You were all a few drinks in by now, happily buzzed. Jojo and McKell were off somewhere, probably attempting to be each other’s wingmen. Darci was telling you a story so wild that Harrison wondered if it was even true. He finished the rest of his drink and shuffled out of the booth.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” Harrison said to you two, and, without waiting for a response, he left. He made no move to flag down the bartender, leaning against an empty spot in the bar. Pulling on the collar of his blue shirt, he started to feel hot, unsure if he could handle this.

“What happened to getting another drink?” You asked him, stepping up beside him.

“Where’s Darci?” He replied, not wanting to answer your question.

“Found a friend in the crowd.” You laughed and turned to flag down the bartender. You ordered a round of shots, to Harrison’s surprise.

“Are you good?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” You nodded, but with how your eyes were glazed over the alcohol and another unreadable emotion, Harrison didn’t quite believe you. Playfully, you nudged him, “I should ask you the same thing. You’re the one who’s been moping all night for god knows why.”

“I haven’t been moping.” He argued as a tray of four shots was placed in front of you two. You handed one to him and took one for yourself.

“Cheers to another week done.” You clinked your shot glass against his before both of you downed them.

As you went to grab your second shot, Harrison reached a hand and stopped you. Concerned, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Davey and I broke up— for good this time.” You admitted, and his hold on your wrist softened while he looked at you pitifully. “He told me when he was here that he went through with his ‘open relationship’ plan, even though I never agreed to it, so he’s been basically cheating on me since I left for this job. Then tonight, he drunkenly texts me, and I know it’s just a booty call. He’s done it for years, but now I actually see it for what it is. So now, my shitty boyfriend is gone, I’m finally single, and my only plans for tonight is to get properly drunk. Maybe even hookup with a stranger— god knows it’s been a while since I had decent sex.” Harrison was speechless, and you continued, a smile finding its way to your face at the end of your venting. “Dance with me after this shot?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked playfully, feeling your mood lighten once more. You winked at him, handing him a full shot glass. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on you and to keep you from drinking anymore.

After you both drank back the burning liquid, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the dancefloor. Harrison had felt the alcohol that was flooding his system earlier, but the colored lights, pounding music, and countless bodies around him seemed to make the alcohol hit him harder. There was a weight off his shoulders, knowing you were actually single as you danced with him, and yet he still felt strange about his current state with you— were you truly into him or was he just the first guy you could drunkenly hook up with?

You turned to face him, a small frown on your face, “Haz, you’re being a bit of a killjoy.”

It was then that he realized, while you were fully grinding on his body, he was relatively motionless. Your hands found his, and you planted one on your hip and another on the small of your back, low enough though that it teetered being on your ass. You leaned in closer to him, letting him get a whiff of your perfume. While one of your hands trailed along the hem of his shirt, daring to even dip below his shirt, the other traced through his hair.

As you planted a kiss on Harrison’s neck, not caring at all for the dancing bodies around you, you heard him let out a strangled groan of your name. Your nails light scratched over the deep V in his hips, hooking onto where his jeans met the line.

“Should we get out of here?” You asked Harrison, your lips right next to his ear as your voice dripped with seduction. He felt his heart flip with intoxicating excitement before he was immediately reminded of the gravity of the situation. You went to kiss him, but he moved back quickly, stepping out of your reach. Pouting, you asked, “Do you not want me? After all this time?”

“No, I do.” Harrison insisted. “I want you, but not like this, not when you’re drunk. You’re not in the right headspace for this. I don’t want to be your drunken rebound.”

“How can you be a rebound when it’s always been you?”

Harrison sighed. Oh, how much he’d love to hear that from you— sober. He was saved from having to reply when Darci, McKell, and Jojo found you two. They looked at the two of you skeptically, but Harrison just shook his head.

“I’m going to take Y/N back to the hotel.” He said as he stepped closer to the group so that they could hear him over the music.

“We’ll come, too.” Jojo insisted, even though, with his words slurred and his eyes glazed over, he was thoroughly drunk, too.

“Where did Y/N go?” McKell asked, realizing your sudden absence.

“Oh god,” Harrison muttered, and the four of them dispersed in the crowd to find you, tripping over the other sweaty bodies. Darci found you first, unable to stop you from having a couple more shots.

“No, no, you’re done.” She argued with you. You reached for the last shot that she had taken from you, but, in your intoxicated state, you easily lost your balance. Harrison quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“I don’t think she can walk.” Jojo commented.

“What gave that away?” McKell asked sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” With a small sigh, Harrison, as the most sober of the group (though he still felt fairly tipsy), proceeded to lead you out of the club.

Darci hailed a cab for the five of you, and while it was an illegally tight fit, you all made it work. You leaned on Harrison as he was pressed right up against you. On your other side sat Jojo. You mumbled softly to Harrison, one of your hands falling onto his knee, “Do you remember that year when they put up mistletoe at school?”

“Where are you going with this?” He asked you softly.

“I saw you kiss Vivian at the one outside of the gym, and I couldn’t walk in that area for three months without thinking of you. I was so jealous of her, and you just looked like such a good kisser, which I’m happy to report you are.”

“Babes, maybe stop with the drunk talking.” Darci said, because all of you could tell this was stuff sober you would never say.

Harrison looked at you in surprise— he barely even remembered when Vivian dragged him under the mistletoe, so the fact that you remembered and were jealous? And you said he was a good kisser, too. He felt a glimmer of pride overcome him.

“Ask me tomorrow, it’s the truth.” You shuffled in your seat, laying your head against Jojo’s shoulder, “Jojo, wanna know a secret?”

“Y/N, maybe-” Darci started, but Jojo cut her off.

“No, go on, Y/N.” He laughed, wanting to hear your drunk thoughts.

“Do you think I’d make a good Catwoman?” You asked, words slurring together as you grew tired.

“Catwoman? Like Anne Hathaway?” He questioned, and you hummed a ‘yes’. “Yeah, you’d make a good Catwoman.”

“Good. Tell Haz he needs to my Batman then.” Your voice was quiet, as if it was something just meant for the two of you to hear, but your voice wasn’t nearly as soft as you had thought it was, meaning Harrison and the rest of your friends were truly aware of your little drunken secret

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jojo reassured you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he glanced over your head to look at the embarrassed Harrison.

The rest of the car ride was silent, and Harrison helped you out of your seat. With the help of the others, he got you safely inside your hotel room. Everyone retreated to their own rooms, except for Harrison who stayed with you. He laid you down on your bed and went searching for your pajamas, which to his luck were stowed underneath your pillow.

“Can you change or—?” Harrison asked, holding out the clothes to you

“I’ve got it, though I wouldn’t mind you helping.” You said with a wink. As you started to change out of your club clothes, Harrison turned away from you and focused on getting out some much-needed pain reliever and a glass of water for you to have in the morning. He heard you shuffle on the bed behind him before you let out a small huff, “Hazzy, can you come here?”

Hazzy— that was a new nickname. To his surprise, you were already tucked up in bed, your previously worn clothes scattered on the floor around you. He set the water and meds on your nightstand before kneeling to your level, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Do you know why Davey wasn’t my first love?” You asked quietly, your eyes beginning to droop with sleep. You reached a hand out to tentatively run your fingers over his cheek before you cupped it, smiling softly at him.

He had a hunch, but he played along anyway, wanting to hear you say it, in case he never heard it again. “Why?”

“Because you were.” Your voice was so quiet that he barely heard you, but he was so glad that he did. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, and you let your hand fall from his face.

“Get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Can you stay tonight? Please?”

“Of course, love.” Harrison stood to his full height, and when he looked at you again, you were already asleep. He softly readjusted the blankets on your bed to make sure you were warm enough, before he made his way over to the couch. Grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the couch, he settled into his bed for the night. Just like every other night lately, he drifted off thinking of you, but this time, there was an excited flutter in his heart.

The next day, Harrison woke up to you letting out a groan, loudly asking, “Why the fuck is it so bright in here?”

He slowly sat up from the couch to check on you. A smile crossed his face as you took the pain meds he’d left out and downed the glass of water. Your eyes seemed to bulge out of your head when you noticed his presence in the room. Laughing, he greeted you, “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Please tell me you miraculously don’t remember anything I said last night because I remember, and I don’t want to.” You said, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Sorry to disappoint then.” He sent you a sympathetic smile.

With a sigh, you patted the spot beside you on your bed. Wordlessly, Harrison got up from the couch and came to sit beside you on the bed. He expected you to say something, but when you were silent, seemingly caught up in your thoughts, he spoke up, “Did you mean it? When you said I was your first love?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in your reply, and you turned to finally meet his eye, “It was a very intense schoolgirl crush, hence why I hated Vivian after that mistletoe incident, but seeing you again just made me realize that it was more than just a crush. I’ve regretted saying no to you all those years ago ever since you came back into my life.”

“Well, I thought I was over my crush on you, but turns out, there are just some things time can’t change.”

A comfortable silence overfell you two again before you finally spoke up with the words that had been on your mind for weeks, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“I think I’m in love with you, too.” Harrison sealed his words by leaning in to kiss you.

With no script to follow now, he felt fireworks as you kissed him back. One of your hands drifted to the back of his neck, silently urging him to continue kissing you. His hands snaked around your waist before he shifted to lay on his back, rolling you on top of him. You deepened the kiss, your tongue finding its way into his mouth. He moaned at first, fully enjoying himself, before his lips curved into a smile, and he started to laugh against your lips.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, pulling away from his lips. His hands wandered from your hips up to where your own hands were resting on his chest, and he casually intertwined your fingers.

“It’s nothing.” He said in an attempt to play it off, but the smile on his face told you that whatever he was thinking was hilarious to him. “You remember Jack Evans? He told everyone that you were the best french kisser in school, and, well, he’s not wrong.”

You let out a scoff before giggling to yourself, “First of all, how many girls have you french kissed from drama school and should I be jealous? Second of all, Jack was an ass who couldn’t kiss for shit, but I’ll take it as a compliment that he told everyone that.” You leaned down until your lips were just barely touching, “And thirdly, do you want to keep talking about drama school, or do you want me to keep kissing you?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, but I kinda like that you are.” He replied with a cheeky smile. “And you’re right. He was an ass.”

“And for the last one?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Harrison pretended to think about it for a second before he let go of your hand to cup your cheek, bringing your lips crashing back down to his.

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #the irregulars #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x you #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you

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