#once you start categorizing people as ‘good x’ and ‘bad x’ you’re on a very slippery slope my friend.

[badolmen]

Hey I saw some people sharing an infographic with this logo on it and, uh, I’m assuming you don’t know much about this group?

Stop Zionist Hate is a neo-nazi organization and platform. If you see the SZH logo do not spread their posts. They’re using your sympathy for Palestine to lead you into agreeing with their white supremacy. Don’t fall for it. Fuck Zionists. Fuck Nazis.

[jungk0oksthighs]

Pi Gasu | Divine Sinner 

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, E2L, vampire!jungkook

Word Count - 4.5k

It doesn’t take long for you to realise that vampires are just assholes with fangs. Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, drugs, sex and insecurity

SERIES COLLECTION | VISUALS

“Name?”

“Y/N.”

“What’s the reason you’re applying to be a donor?” The man’s voice down the phone is low and absent, as though he’s done this countless times before and you’re just another part of his mundane day.

Pausing, you ponder. What is the reason you’re applying to be a donor? Everybody in their right mind knows that vampires are dangerous, they’re born killers. Well bitten killers, since their species were once human until they were turned. Truthfully you’ve been considering doing this for a while now, a girl at college casually threw into conversation how much money she makes in this secret business hidden behind the ruse of a strip club. Actually, you haven’t seen her in a while…

It’s genius really, whoever came up with that idea is one smart cookie. Strip clubs are shady at the best of times, it’s almost too obvious to have an underground business there. Nobody would ever think to check. The truth is you just need the money. But as you’ve come to learn, it’s very exclusive and difficult to get into.

You sigh, tapping fingernails against your phone that’s pressed against your ear. “I… I need the money.”

“Are you taking any blood thinning medications?”

The question leaves a sour taste on your tongue, winning you to bite back a grimace. “No.”

“Do you take any illegal substances?” The man sounds bored, you can’t help but notice. You wonder how many applicants they must receive and speak with, since not many people know about this place as far as you’re aware.

“No.”

“Any history of sexually transmitted diseases or HIV?”

You frown, “No.”

“When was the last time you were screened for such diseases?”

Tonguing your cheek you can’t ignore the disgust lingering in your veins, “This year, I’m clean. I don’t see how that’s relevant though since I’m not applying to have sex with anyone.”

A deep throaty chuckle fills the silence down the line, “Have you ever donated before?”

“No.” You roll your eyes, growing impatient.

There’s a brief pause when the man clicks his tongue, he sounds much more invested in this conversation than he did twenty seconds ago. “So have you ever been bitten?”

“No, never.”

It’s no secret that there are good vampires and bad vampires in the world, much like there are good people and bad people. The good vampires will go to the hospital once a month for a supply of blood bags, doing everything by the book as a way to avoid being executed. 

The bad vampires however, though they’re pretty rare these days, will attack humans as they please. Killing some, maiming others, maybe even turning a couple of humans here and there. All of which is illegal. But vampire attacks do happen, and statistically speaking young women are usually their bread and butter, a categoric blanket that covers both your gender and age group. At least six girls at college have had their own nightmarish experience with a vampire that you know of.

Thankfully you’ve never encountered such horrors. 

Maybe that’s why you’re willing to consent to giving blood fresh from your veins to one of their kind, because you don’t know the reality of what it’s like to be bitten. But you do know the harsh reality of humanity and all the hardships it brings, which is precisely why you’ll do just about anything for cash right now. You need to, before it’s too late.

“So… How much does this pay exactly?” You gnaw your lip nervously, dragging yourself from your own depressing train of thought.

The man clears his throat, “Once we receive proof that you’re not lying about your medical history you’ll get an upfront payment of one thousand. Think of it like an honesty bonus. Then depending how in demand you are at the club when you start, you can earn anything from one thousand per client. If you’re really in demand you can charge as much as you’d like.”

“So do you need me to send my medical records—”

“We’ll take care of it from our end. Once that’s done I’ll be in touch.” The way his voice threateningly lowers an octave makes every hair on your body stand to attention, but you find a way to push through the anxiety. “It’s safer for you to keep this to yourself by the way. Trust me.”

“Of course.” You exhale nervously. “And what’s your name please?”

“Namjoon. Speak soon love.”

Just like that the conversation is over as quickly as it began.

It’s Friday morning the next time you hear from Namjoon, he sends you a small text message that makes your blood run cold as soon as you read it.

Namjoon: Everything is in order, we’ll pick you up at nine. Welcome to Euphoria

Concentration isn’t something you’re capable of for the rest of the day. Your mind solely fixated on what could possibly happen tonight. You’ve never seen a vampire in the flesh before, much less allowed one to drink from you. Will it hurt? What if they lose control and kill you? You’re a mess, simultaneously regretting this decision and knowing you’d be a fool to turn down that kind of money right now.

Thankfully you live alone in a small apartment thirty minutes away from campus, meaning you’re free to rush around your bedroom as noisily as possible while you find something to wear. It’s a strip club. Something slutty would be the obvious choice. But then what if vampires don’t like that… You scoff, kicking your head back with a frustrated groan while raking through the depths of your wardrobe. What do they like? And where do vampires even drink from? The neck? The wrist? The thigh? Anywhere? You swallow uncomfortably. 

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into.

After settling on a little black dress that’s proven to be popular amongst your male peers at frat parties, you sigh and lock your door. To say you’re anxious would be the understatement of the century. The tallest stilettos you own pinch your feet as you make your way down to the front of the building. It’s nine pm on the dot when a large black car with blacked out windows pulls up to where you’re standing.

The drivers window rolls down, revealing… exactly what you expected. It’s a man who looks to be in his mid-twenties, the tanned skin of his youthful face glows beautifully beneath the moonlight. It’s his teeth and smile that win your attention first, you don’t see any obvious fangs but he looks… sinister. The black turtleneck he wears draws attention to his angled jawline. His hair is smoky grey, parted in the middle exposing his thick brows which draw your focus to his hooded crescent moon-like eyes that are already stuck on you.

“Are you Y/N?” He sounds equally as malevolent as he appears, your heart already thumping hard in your chest with fear.

You nod, and his grin widens.

“Get in.”

Another man walks round the car, having just slid out of the passenger side. He pulls the back door open for you and you don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his thick neck when he watches you clamber into the vehicle. Albeit not very elegantly, pulling your dress down to cover what little dignity remains.

“Nice to see you’ve dressed up for the occasion love.” The man, who from his voice and eerie pet name you recognise as Namjoon chuckles. Locking you inside.

Namjoon looks to be around the same age as the designated driver, perhaps a year or two older at most. His hair is also dyed you notice, mousy brown and pushed back at the hairline with shaved short sides above the ears which gives him a smart, almost sexy businessman-like appeal. If it wasn’t for the soft dimples piercing his cheeks when he spoke and smiled you’d find him equally as threatening as the other man. Maybe more so, since he’s wearing a full suit and you get the feeling he’s… important.

The driver’s brows furrow when he turns to watch you in the backseat, nostrils flared and eyes darkening with something that intimidates you further. When Namjoon clicks himself into the passenger side in front of you he does the self and same thing. Slowly craning his neck to get a better look at you, intrigued. Both men are staring at you intensely, earning you to awkwardly clear your throat which thankfully snaps them out of whatever the hell just happened.

Namjoon’s tongue clicks the roof of his mouth with curious features when the driver finally starts the engine. “I’m Namjoon, we spoke on the phone… This-“ He plants a firm hand on the other man’s shoulder, “Is Jimin.”

“Hi.” Is all you manage to choke out, since the windows are stained black you’ve no idea where you’re going – which only increases your growing concern. It feels as though moths are eating their way thought your stomach lining with each moment that passes.

“Hi.” Jimin grins, gaze briefly flickering to the rear-view mirror to watch you again.

“So…” You puff out your cheeks awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs, “Are you two—”

“Mhm.” Jimin hums rather smugly, “We are. Everybody you’ll meet tonight will be too, so if I were you I’d get used to it now while there’s only two of us here.”

“I see.”

Namjoon looks physically uncomfortable, rolling down his window some for fresh air. You don’t recognise what little road and city you can make out from the backseat, further amplifying your nerves. Perhaps you’ve made a mistake.

You’ve only met two vampires in your entire life and they happen to be driving you seemingly miles away, and they’re intense. Very intense. The atmosphere in the car is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. How the fuck are you going to be able to donate to one of these… things, without getting yourself killed?

“Do you have any air freshener in here?” Namjoon asks while he’s already searching the glovebox with a tight set jaw.

Jimin snorts, flashing that sinister smile once again when his eyes catch yours in the mirror. “If I did don’t you think I would’ve used it by now?”

“Open your window then, I can’t fucking breathe in here.”

The driver rolls his eyes but obliges, until the wind is deep in your hair are the car speeds down another dimly lit street you don’t recognise. It’s freezing now, you don’t understand the sudden tension and need for fresh air but it’s making your bones shiver.

Jimin coughs before wetting his lips, turning the vehicle round a sharp corner. “You’ve never donated before, right?”

From the backseat you shake your head, feigning confidence when in reality you’re scared shitless of them. “That’s right. I’ve never been bitten either.”

Pained laughter rolls off the grey-haired man’s tongue, briefly squeezing his eyes shut as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Hope you don’t have plans for the next few days, cause you’re gonna be sore as hell tomorrow.”

You swallow, “Sore…?”

Namjoon smiles, his once friendly looking dimples now feel nothing but menacing. “Our boss will go over everything with you soon. But he’s right, you should cancel any upcoming plans. You’ll thank us later.”

“Reckon Guk will give us a staff discount?” Jimin’s brow quirks when the car slows down, signalling you’ve arrived. Namjoon chuckles but doesn’t answer him, provoking the driver to speak up again, “Like you wouldn’t be interested if he said we could.”

“That’s if he even lets her donate… Something tells me we might be driving you home pretty soon Y/N.” He’s laughing and you get the impression the pair are mocking you right to your face.

“He’d be an idiot to send her home, think of the money she’ll make.”

“Does money outweigh the risks? I’ve never known... Well you know.”

“Mmm. Guess it’s up to the big guy himself from here, we’ve done our bit.” 

Are you not good enough for them? Are you somehow different to their usual… donors? Your self-esteem takes a hit when Jimin parks the car, briefly glancing at the length of your dress before shaking his head with a mild smile. You press your legs together to shield yourself from his gaze but it’s too late, he’s chuckling to himself when he unclicks his seatbelt.

When you step out of the car it’s clear you’ve arrived. Euphoria. That’s the name of the strip club, it’s red neon sign looks almost… classy, in comparison to how you thought a strip club would look. And the interior is no different once you’re inside. Everything in here seems luxurious, expensive, elegantly eccentric and niche but it’s not too much. It all kind of makes perfect sense to you. You don’t have time to drink in your surroundings properly because soon Jimin’s harshly gripping your wrist and tugging you into his toned chest.

“I-, Sorry.” He exhales before wetting his plump lips, pushing you away with some force, chest noticeably heaving up and down with each ragged breath.

“Keep it together. You good?” Namjoon asks, concerned gaze flickering between you and Jimin who look equally as shocked as each other right now. What the fuck was that? Did he just blindside you? For what?

“I’m fine…” You mumble, though your increasing heartrate may prove otherwise.

“Jimin take her downstairs, I’m gonna warn Seokjin. Try not to kill her.”

Being vampires they must be able to sense you’re nervous, right? They must know you’re scared shitless, it’s blatantly obvious at this point. The money. That’s all you’re here for. Money. You’ll donate blood to however many vampires you can to get as much money as you need. And then this will be over. You’ll be here for a couple months tops, is what you convince yourself in that moment. It’ll be fine. You mentally repeat those words over and over like your own personal mantra.

Soon you’re being lead into a dimly lit room where you’re told the boss of this place will come down and go over everything with you as a group. You and the other new donors. There are five men here whose names you can’t remember already, your mind being somewhat occupied on the tensity of the situation you’ve put yourself in. There’s another girl too, she looks around your age and you think she said her name is Betty. Thankfully Namjoon seated you next to her when he came back, in the centre of the room that looks to be a private study.

Betty is wearing a short wine coloured PVC dress that screams equal parts 90’s Pamela Anderson and ‘I work at a strip club’. She looks amazing, her boobs are huge and pushed all the way up to her collarbones, choppy dark hair grazes her shoulders lightly when she plays with it. She’s the embodiment of female empowerment, she’s so sexy. You can’t help but feel a little self-conscious in her presence.

“Well well well, who do we have here?” A third vampire enters the room. You recognise he’s not human because he looks similar to Jimin and Namjoon. The flawless glowing skin, the darkness behind his eyes. That evil smile. Even his voice sounds sinister.

“I’m Betty!” The girl next to you grins, noticeably ogling the newcomer. And who could blame her? He’s… unreal.

The nameless vampire is blonde, which contrasts beautifully against his tanned skin. His eyes are feline-like and swimming with seduction when he drags them up and down your seated frame. It’s intense. He’s intense. His plump lips are ever so slightly ajar before they break into a somewhat bloodthirsty looking smirk. A black suit jacket with gold detailing clings to his tall frame when he leans against the door he’s just closed, pulling a cherry lollipop from his pocket and salaciously swirling his tongue around it before it winds up between his teeth.

After the longest minute of your life he peels his gaze away from you, turning his attention to the girl beside you. “Nice to meet you Betty, I’m Taehyung.” He audibly cracks his neck, taking the lollipop from his mouth and gesturing to you with it, “I this little dress of yours… You smell to die f—”

“Don’t.” Namjoon warns him from the corner of the room with folded arms and a hot-tempered expression.

At this the blonde vampire quickly raises his brows, making his way over to the dimpled man. “You’re telling me I’m the only one who can—”

“You’re not. Trust me, you’re not.” Jimin chuckles from the other side of the room while he adjusts the neckline of his sweater, though his features are crumpled with discomfort.

Nothing makes sense here. All you know is that this is the most confused and uncomfortable you’ve ever felt in your whole life. Every pair of eyes in the room are trained to you, making you feel smaller than small beneath their judgemental gazes. Even Betty is looking at you with something akin to disgust tugging her red glossy lips down. To say you feel self-conscious would be significantly dumbing it down. You feel… Like this was a mistake.

The door you initially entered opens slowly, revealing two more vampires.

They’re even more beautiful than the others, both of them have striking visuals that have sweat beading down the spans of your exposed back. They’re both stunning, like something straight from a romance novel where the male love interest is described to be perfect in every single way. They’re perfect. Actually perfect, it’s sickening. But one of them catches your eye more than the other, and he’s already staring back at you. Intensely, because apparently that’s the only way vampires look at you.

“You. What’s your name?” He barks, voice venomous and dripping with hatred.

Judging by his obvious dominance he’s the boss around here. All eyes are now trained on him as opposed to you, which you’re thankful for. His hair is long, coming down to his nose, it’s parted in the middle and black in colour, messily tickling his hooded eyes that continue to stare you down. The curve of his nose is the softest feature on his face, winning you to look there instead of directly in the fire of his unwavering gaze. His jaw looks tight enough to break, his lips are parted but reveal no trace of emotion. His shoulders are broad enough to have the material of his black shirt threaten to tear. He’s in great shape, he looks strong. A lot stronger than the others. And a hell of a lot stronger than you.

His line of vision drops to your frame, for a moment it looks as though he’s ogling your body beneath the coal fabric of your mini dress before he turns away from you. Thank god. You offer a small closed smile, hoping your shaky breaths don’t betray you and you’re able to speak without trembling. He looks terrifying, like he’d kill you in an instant without a second of hesitation. The way he makes you so nervous and frightened is a cold reminder of what this place is. And who he is. 

What he is.

“Y/N.”

The boss wets his lips, earning you to notice the small silver lip ring to the right corner of his mouth. His neck, hands, actually all the exposed skin he’s displaying is littered with dark permanent artwork. Including the two tiny script face tattoos you can’t quite read that sit underneath each of his haunted eyes.

“Follow me.” He turns on his heel, facing the other eerily beautiful vampire he appeared with. You can’t help but notice anger still lingers in his words, he’s no closer to calming down. Unless he’s just always like that. “Go through everything with the donors, I’ll be back soon.”

The other man simply nods, and soon you’re being escorted up a stairwell that glows red from the crimson tube lights that lead the way. You make sure to keep your distance from the boss and ask him no questions, a fraction of reassurance that he won’t kill you if you don’t provoke him. This was definitely a mistake. Maybe you can find the money somewhere else? Perhaps you could go work in a normal strip club? Even McDonald’s sounds better than this place right now. And safer. Definitely safer.

“In here.” His voice is low and gruff, agitated, when he pushes open a door that seems to be the furthest away from the entrance to the building. He must be able to sense how scared you are, how on edge this entire situation makes you.

But you still don’t say a single word – simply head into the room that you quickly register is an office of some sorts. Though it looks more like a hidden library in a gentleman’s club, it’s huge, and the walls are adorned with books that look older than time itself. There’s a fireplace in here too, the crackling sounds are deafening in the otherwise silent room. Two mahogany leather sofas sit in front of the fire, facing each other a good few meters away from the desk. You turn and peer up at who you can only assume is the owner of this place, he’s so tall that he towers over you, even with your painful stilettos.

“Sit.” His stare manages to snap away from you for a split second to one of the sofas, and you don’t talk back despite the fact he’s just spoken to you how an owner would treat their pet. You sit down, tugging your dress as far down your legs as much as the material will allow.

And then he closes the door, trapping you both inside, the little optimism you had toward the situation quickly vanishing. The man makes his way over within a few resentful steps, until he’s sitting opposite you and you’re the only thing he’s focussed on. With flared nostrils and tightly balled inked fists he finally speaks, more than two words this time.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“W-what?” You blink, taken aback by his sudden interest in your safety when you don’t even know his name. “No… I came here—”

“To be a donor. I know.” He rubs his face hard enough to bruise. “You haven’t donated before?”

“No, this will be my first time… I’ve never even been bitten.”

The man inhales sharply, sinking back into the sofa with his eyes squeezed shut and features contorted with something akin to pain. He looks so angry, so hostile, so… inhumane. Yet so beautiful all at once. His eyes are still closed when his tongue clacks against the roof of his mouth, allowing you a moment of time to concentrate on the words tattooed underneath them.

Divine. Sinner.

A contradiction in itself. He doesn’t give you long to ponder it though because when his eyes snap open they’re already on you, and you look away.

“You don’t belong here.”

“I’m desperate for the money.” You say, almost argumentatively which seems to amuse him because he smirks.

“So desperate that you’d risk your life?”

“Yes…” Your exhale is shaky, but the impatience on your face is too noticeable for him to miss. “Do you interrogate all your donors?”

“Would it make you feel more comfortable if I said yes?”

You nod, “It would.”

“Well then I’m sorry to inform you that’s not the case.” He bares his white teeth for a split second, before resetting his features to his default brooding vampire mode.

“Why am I in here with you when the other donors are downstairs?”

He pauses, making a tsk sound between his teeth and tongue. “I told you, you don’t belong here. You being here is going to end up with you getting killed, or worse.”

“What could possibly be worse than death?” You swallow, nervously playing with the hem of your dress.

At this he watches you again, even closer, more intimately despite the fact there’s a significant distance and a roaring fire between you. It’s when he tongues the inside of his cheek with a quirked brow that you begin to feel self-conscious again. Are you seriously not up to his standards? Blood is just blood, right? You sigh irritatedly, making sure to look him dead in the eye when a surge of empowerment washes over you. Fuck these guys, assholes.

“Look if I’m not good enough for you that’s fine, you don’t need to beat around the bush,” You spit, which visibly surprises the man, “I’ll take my one thousand dollars for the medical record check and be on my way.”

He’s still smirking, and you hate yourself for how alluring you find it. “Fine.”

You scoff, quickly bringing yourself to your feet. Peering down at him with vengeful features. “Since you don’t want me here I’d like you to arrange for me to be taken home.” That and you have no idea where you are, you mentally add.

Within a millisecond he’s standing in front of you, your brain doesn’t register how he got there so fast but here he is – towering over you. Looking down at you with something indescribable darkening his eyes that display the faintest hint of scarlet. You can’t remember if they’d always been this colour, but when he opens his lips to speak you catch sight of sharp fangs that were definitely not there before. Dark veins and bruising frame his eye sockets and panic floods every sense you possess, until your own eyes are wide with fear and you take a step back.

“Don’t twist my words Y/N.” His voice comes out as a warning paired with his tense jawline, “I said you don’t belong here, not that I didn’t want you here.”

You nod when you attempt to make you way around him, but he doesn’t allow it. Gripping your elbow hard enough to shatter bones. He’s strong, a lot stronger than you anticipated earning you to wince in pain and he loosens his hold of you to something more… human.

“I’ll have someone drive you home.” His features relax, resembling the way he looked before he stood to attention a few moments ago. “It’s Jungkook by the way.”

You look at him expressionless and the faintest smile threatens to pull the corners of his mouth, “My name.”

When you find yourself in the familiar backseat of Jimin’s car in the quietest journey of your life you pray to every higher power that you never see any of them again. Not Jimin, not Namjoon, certainly not Taehyung and definitely, definitely not Jungkook.

But as fate would have it, you will see them again,

Jungkook is going to make sure of it.

x

[thebibliosphere]

I had a question.

So, just an hour or two ago, I was going through some sort of “manic high”, sorta like how somebody with bipolar disorder would have (I don’t have BPD). It felt like a bullet train at max speed and completely derailing, and it was incredibly draining. It also got me wondering.

Do people with severe enough ADHD deal with ADHD episodes like this? My search attempts are often futile because all of it is just talking about how to differentiate between BPD and ADHD and BPD manic episodes, but nobody ever mentions ADHD episodes; the only time I’ve seen it mentioned ever was when somebody made a clip of crankgameplays to show what an ADHD episode looked like.

Do they even exist? I’ve got no idea, so I was just wondering if you knew.

Hey! Sorry, I saw your other ask a while ago, but I wanted to talk to my ADHD specialist before I answered because I’d never heard of the term “episode” being used to describe ADHD. I’m also going to splice both questions together here and answer them in segments in the hope it helps :)

So like I said, I’d never heard of the term “episode” with ADHD, and neither has my specialist. Part of ADHD is having a natural ebb and flow between inattention and hyperactivity, sometimes skewed toward one or the other, depending on your ADHD type. (What are the different types of ADHD?)

Your type of ADHD may also fluctuate because of other factors, such as stress, changes in medication, hormonal fluctuations, lack of sleep, overstimulation, or even under-stimulation, to name a few. Another overlooked part of ADHD is emotional dysregulation, which may cause rapid cycling emotions that may look like an “episode” to someone unfamiliar with what that actually qualifies. The way my therapist explained it and using your example of bipolar disorder, “episode” is used in diagnostic criteria to categorize manic or depressive episodes that last X amount of time, are usually severe, potentially requiring hospitalization, and are accompanied by other symptoms not found in ADHD.

Our “bursts” of energy or lack thereof typically don’t last long enough to be considered episodes. This isn’t to say they are not severe or debilitating, especially if you suffer from things like anxiety or depression that ADHD can feed into. Merely that “episode” is not used as part of the language used to discuss ADHD, which is likely why you’re not finding anything.

So, do ADHDers experience intense bursts of energy that are draining afterward? Yeah, we can do, especially if we lean more toward hyperactive than inattentive. (And again, it's normal to fluctuate and also for things to be affected or worsened by secondary factors.)

And I'm going to put the rest under the cut because this is hella long.

I’ve seen some people think that all hyperactivity has to come with fixation, but that’s not how ADHD works. It’s true if something gets us excited or gives us a dopamine boost, we might be more prone to becoming hyperfixated and burn all our energy up on that. But you don’t need something to fixate on to experience hyperactivity. Some of us are just wired to the moon sometimes, and yes, it can be very draining when it ends. Some people find medication helpful in regulating their hyperactivity/preventing it from coming in such big swings and dips.

Speaking personally, when I'm hyper and nothing is grabbing my attention, the world and people around me can feel painfully slow. It's like I'm going a mile a minute doing everything but achieving nothing. The crash that comes after can also be particularly bad, as I also have dysthymia, which can tip over into a major depressive episode depending on other factors in my life at that time. For years I was misdiagnosed as having "probably Bipolar Type II" by a doctor who didn't believe teenage girls could "get" ADHD* and convinced my parents I needed psychoactive drugs. The drugs I was on didn't help, in fact, they made me worse so I was taken off them.

It wasn't until I found an ADHD specialist as an adult a few years ago that I made any real progress. And I'll be honest, I was shocked when she diagnosed me with ADHD, I really didn't think I had it. Right up until we started doing the work and slowly but surely my mental health began to improve and my understanding of myself with it.

Sometimes there are days when I will be wired to the moon and it will derail my entire day because I can't focus on a single thing/I'll focus too much on a single thing. Other times, like when I am closer to my menstrual cycle, I'll crash into inattentiveness and depression because of how my hormones affect my various different conditions, including my ADHD. Medication would likely help with this, but due to medical reasons, that's currently not an option for me so I do the best I can.

That said, if you’re experiencing something more than hyperactivity but it's not mania, you may be experiencing a form of hypomania and you should talk to a doctor about your concerns.

Hypomania typically occurs in Bipolar Type II disorder, which is less severe than the manic episodes in Bipolar I. I’ve experienced both manic and hypomanic episodes in my life due to medication interactions, and they felt very different from ADHD hyperactivity. It's not just derailing mile-a-minute thoughts, it's something usually completely mood-altering and out of control feeling followed by devastating crashes.

If you're on any medications and are worried you are experiencing something like this, you need to talk to your doctor. You might just need a dosage tweak, or you might be better off on a different medication altogether. Also, make a thorough check of any and all medications you are taking to check for any interactions.

I'm on a cocktail of meds for my MCAS, which if I were to combine them with the SSRI one of my doctors wants me to try, would result in serotonin syndrome. The doctor didn't notice this, but the pharmacist sure as shit did!

Some people (ask me how I know) even develop mild hypomania from overusing the sunlamps used to treat SAD (link), which is why brands like Verilux now include warnings in their leaflets about not using the lamps for more than X amount of time a day. Thankfully it goes away once you stop overusing the lamps.

Which actually brings me to something you asked last time about being unable to sleep at night. Insomnia and delayed sleep phase cycles are not uncommon in ADHD. This is likely because our circadian rhythm is thought to be out of whack (link).

You also mentioned having racing thoughts at night too, which is not uncommon either with hyperactivity. I find if I get overstimulated before trying to sleep, I’ll end up lying there awake with what I like to call “radio ADHD” playing in my head. It can range from snippets of songs stuck on repeat, conversations, things I’ve watched on TV, arguments, or if something is happening the next day, fixating on not being late for it. Hence, I end up getting no sleep because you can’t accidentally sleep in if you don’t sleep. *jazz hands of despair.*

Sometimes I find Radio ADHD soothing if it’s fixating on something chill, but it can get annoying fast and even distressing if I’m tired and can’t “change the station.” (I’d say “shut it off,” but as of yet, I’ve never been able to do that. Medication helps some people with this, as can looking into “sleep hygiene” if you haven’t already.) Conversely, if I’m bored or something is too stressful, I will 100% fall asleep because my brain would literally rather just turn off than do something I don’t want to do or is a low dopamine reward task.

Brains are fun.

Anyway, I uh, I am not sure if any of this is useful to you, but I hope it helps. Mostly I'm just repeating back what my specialist said when I asked her about it lol. Good luck, and I hope you figure things out.

----

*NB: It's important to note that ADHD and Bipolar Disorder can be comorbid. It's not a one or the other situation. I’m just throwing it out there in case hearing that helps someone else pursue the proper diagnosis!

[wonjaekook]

One Minus One Plus One

Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader

Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.

Word Count: 9.9k

Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this

Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing

A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:

Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.

Except when he isn’t.

You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.

“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.

In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.

Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.

Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.

The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”

Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”

“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.

Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”

You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”

Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”

That’s… that’s not right.

You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”

You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.

All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”

The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.

After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”

Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”

That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”

Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.

You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.

Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.

The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.

On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.

The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.

At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”

He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”

He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”

“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”

“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.

As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.

After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.

Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.

Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.

Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.

The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.

Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”

“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”

“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.

He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”

“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.

As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.

“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”

You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.

The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”

Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”

“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”

“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”

You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”

“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”

You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”

She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”

You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”

Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.

“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”

“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.

You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”

You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”

“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”

“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.

“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”

“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.

Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.

In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”

“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.

“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.

“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”

“Basically everyone?”

“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.

The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.

“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?

A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.

The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.

You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.

When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?

You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.

The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.

“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.

“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”

“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”

“You must have some ideas at least?”

“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”

You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”

“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”

“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.

That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.

You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”

“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.

“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”

“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”

“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You really make no sense at all.”

“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.

Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.

Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.

You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.

“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.

“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.

It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.

“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.

“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.

The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”

“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”

Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.

“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard.  “Nothing.”

“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.

“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.

“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”

They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.

“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”

You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”

Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.” “Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.

You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”

He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”

“Will do.”

As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.

Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.

On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.

JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.

JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your “girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))

A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.

JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo

You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.

“Y/N, you’re late!”

“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.

“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”

“I mean, I guess? I-”

“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”

He shuts the door behind him.

You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.

“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”

“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.

You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”

Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.

“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”

“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”

He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”

Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”

He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”

“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.

“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”

“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.

“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”

The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”

“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.

“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.

“From you.”

Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”

“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”

“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”

He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”

“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.

“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.

“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.

“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”

That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”

“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-” “Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.

“You’re really cute!”

Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”

He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-” As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.

“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”

You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”

He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”

“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”

His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”

One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.

“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”

“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”

“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”

“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.

“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”

“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”

“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”

“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”

He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”

“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”

“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”

Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.

“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.

“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.

Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.

[narutogwriting]

Before You Go

Pairing: Sasuke Uchiha x Reader

CW: angst

Length: 3.6k+

Summary: You play it through your head. Every moment, every interaction you ever had with Sasuke before he left. Was there something you could have done? Could you have made him stay?

Inspired by: Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi

Looking at Sasuke hurt. That’s all you could think about for the longest time. To look at Sasuke was to be punched in the stomach, all the air leaving your lungs. It was like someone’s fist tearing through your chest, grabbing your heart and crushing it in their fingers. Looking at Sasuke left your entire existence battered and bruised.

You remember hearing the whispers. Adults whispered a lot, always telling each other secrets. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” That’s what they always said when you asked them what they were talking about. So much of their conversations were too hard to follow along with. You made a mental registry of all the questions you would ask when you reached this elusive “older” age.

You were nosey, of course; always wanted to hear the ins and outs of things. But the first time you remembered the whispers really catching your interest was when you were seven years old.

“It’s horrible, what happened to the Uchihas.” “I can’t believe he could do that to his own family. “Just tragic.”

Uchiha. A boy in your class had the last name Uchiha. Sasuke. He was really popular, by far the strongest kid in the academy. You never talked to him, but you always noticed how happy he would get when his big brother would come pick him up at the end of the day.

“Did something happen to Sasuke?” You asked, crawling out from underneath the table, earning a startled gasp from you aunt.

“What have I told you about eavesdropping!?” Your mother snapped at you, but she didn’t look angry like usual. She looked worried almost. With a sigh, she pat your head. “Don’t worry too much, okay. It’s nothing. Sasuke is just fine.”

It was natural for a parent to want to protect their child’s innocence. Even at your parent’s age, the Uchiha Massacre was a horrific occurrence; it was too hard for them to process; it would be even harder to try to explain it to you. Ignorantly, your parents thought that if they hid it from you, you would never have to deal with it, but of course that wasn’t true. People talked and word got around. It only took one or two kids in the academy finding out some details for the story to grow and spread.

Sasuske wasn’t at the academy for a month after you heard your parents and aunt whispering about his family, but the next day at school, word was already beginning to get around. Sasuke’s older brother, the one he’d adored so dearly, that he’d smiled so happily at every day, had murdered his whole family, leaving only Sasuke alive.

It would have been better to hear it from your parents, the toned down, soft version of the appalling act as they tried to explain to you for the first time that the world could be a cruel place. But instead, you had to listen in horror while your classmates gossiped, lied, and exaggerated the whole thing, discussing the most traumatizing moment of Sasuke’s life as if it was a new movie playing in the cinema. You’d gone home crying almost every day that week.

When Sasuke finally did come back, he talked to no one, and no one talked to him. He kept to himself, arms crossed and a blank, cold stare on his face that would soon become his signature. You couldn’t believe that such a beautiful smile had ever crossed those icy features.

“Stay away from Sasuke.” Your mom whispered as she walked you home from the academy. When you questioned why, she’d simply shushed you. “Do what I say.”

Parents always know best. That’s all you know when you’re seven years old. They always do and say the right thing, and you always listen because you never have a reason not to. Your mom told you not to talk to Sasuke, so of course you wouldn’t because there must be a good reason not to.

You never told your mother that it was this very command that later shattered your innocence; the first moment when you realized that your mom was not always right.

It wasn’t immediate. You never really talked to Sasuke in the first place, so it was nothing new to ignore him now. But now that you’d been told not too, of course everything in you wanted to go say hello to him.

There is a theory of development that categorizes the age of seven as industry vs inferiority. It’s the first time you’re independently integrating into society and trying to figure out your place. The major question of children this age is “How can I be good or bad?”

And you were no different. This appeared in a lot of ways. When you struggled to hit the target with a kunai, you felt like a failure. When you were corrected by your parents, it felt like criticism and hit you to your core.

But you were moving further than your peers. You didn’t just wonder if you were good or bad based on your skills; you wondered if it made you bad to ignore a person that everyone else seemed to be purposefully isolating as well.

Can I be a good person if I let another person feel miserable?

Sasuke had lost everything, was living on his own in the place his family had been murdered in front of his eyes. Even you could understand that that must be traumatizing. Of course he was angry and cold and closed off. How could anyone fault him for that?

It started slow. “Hi, Sasuke.” You would greet him every day when you got to class. It took him off guard the first couple of times. Once he got used to it, he just “hn’d” in response, but that was okay with you.

Then you started asking him if he wanted to sit with you at lunch, offered him an extra dessert that you would sneak into your pack just for him.

He always told you no, so you would leave him alone and just offer again the next day. Not to be annoying; just to let him know that you were there.

Things changed a few weeks after Sasuke had come back to the academy. You were still saying hi and being ignored, and a few kids had begun to slowly start trying to interact with Sasuke in response. You never really saw him outside of the academy except for this one day you were out with your mom running errands.

You’d never considered how he got food or supplies he needed. You didn’t know where he got the money, but there Sasuke was at the market just like you were. You watched from your mom’s side as he walked up to a fruit stand where there was a group of people examining the different produce. Sasuke reached past someone, grabbing an amaou to put in his bag.

The person next to Sasuke glanced down absentmindedly, but you saw the way their eyes widened as they settled on him, realizing who he was.

“Oh shit,” the guy muttered, dropping his fruit and hurrying away from the stand. One by one, every other person around did the same, looking at Sasuke with an expression of shock or discomfort before speeding off.

You couldn’t see Sasuke’s face from where you were, only his back, but you could see the way his shoulder tightened. He froze completely before his body began to tremble just slightly. Sasuke’s fingers tightened and the fruit was crushed beneath his fingers. He dropped the pulp and the bag with all the other fruit he’d been planning on getting and in a moment, he was gone.

It was the first time you could remember hearing a heart shatter. You just weren’t sure if it was his or yours.

Your mom’s attention was elsewhere, so you took the opportunity to sneak over to the fruit stand, grabbing the bag Sasuke had dropped, examining the produce inside. When back at your mother’s side, you grabbed her hand. “Mom, can I get some fruit?”

Later, you snuck the fruit bag from your kitchen, slinging it over your arm as you walked around the village. You finally found Sasuke sitting under a tree on the outskirts of town. He had his back to the trunk, arms crossed as he stared off. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge your presence as you approached, but he didn’t tell you to leave, either.

So you slipped down next to him, leaning against the trunk and placing the bag of fruit silently between the two of you as you crossed your legs. With nothing else to do, you began to pick the flowers in the grass, weaving their stems together until you had a small bracelet formed.

What came over you, you weren’t sure. But confidently, you turned to Sasuke where he still sat, staring off with his arms crossed. You reached out, gently taking his arm and untangling it from the other. To your surprise, he didn’t fight you, so you took his hand, sliding the flower bracelet around his wrist.

When you looked up at him, you found that he was already staring at you. He wasn’t smiling, but for the first time in weeks, he wasn’t frowning either.

~

You hated him. You hated Sasuke Uchiha! After everything, the past five years that you had spent together… Had it all meant nothing!?

It was a blow straight to your heart hearing the words when you had come home. “Sasuke has defected from the village.” Sasuke had left to train with Orochimaru, all for his revenge. He hadn’t been kidnapped or forced to go; he left willingly. Just like that. One day he was there, and the next he was gone.

You hadn’t even had the change to go on the retrieval mission. You just had to have gone out of town that day. He’d already been gone for days by the time that you were home. Naruto was the last person that got to see Sasuke before he disappeared; maybe forever.

Even thinking the words had you in hysterics. You sobbed violently into your pillow, the sounds being ripped from your throat. You sobbed so hard your body shook. Your cries were so vicious that you began to vomit, not even able to make it to the trashcan.

That’s where your mother found you hours after you heard. “I told you to stay away from him…” Your mom tsk’d softly.

You would never forgive him.

~

Was there something you could have said or done? You thought you’d been a good friend to Sasuke. You’d always tried to be there, listen in those rare moments that he wanted to talk to you. Ever since you’d given him the bracelet…

That moment was so pivotal in your friendship. Not just that you’d given the gift, but that Sasuke had accepted it. It was the moment that your one sided pursuit of Sasuke had become mutual; the two of you were now friends.

And it wasn’t a normal type of friendship really like your other relationships were. This one was quieter, built around so much that was unsaid, only felt. In Sasuke’s loneliness, you were there standing by and sitting next to him through it all.

You couldn’t take away Sasuke’s pain or hurt, but you could walk with him through it.

Or at least, that’s what you had thought. It’d been stupid. You actually believed that you could help Sasuke, make him feel better when he’d experienced the most appalling sort of loss. Maybe that belief had only made Sasuke feel even more lonely.

Did you ever understand at all? No, you hadn’t, and you knew it. You’d tried your best, done everything you could, but you were just a kid too, and you’d never experienced anything like Sasuke had. How could you have known what to say to make it better?

Despite this, the guilt that you felt was consuming, taking up every part of you. You felt as if you’d drown in it, felt the way it filled your lungs until you couldn’t breathe.

You’d been in denial when you heard the news, felt the anger when the retrieval squad had failed. In the weeks that followed Sasuke’s defect, you’d switched between the two stages almost constantly.

Now, finally, you’d moved onto bargaining.

If Sasuke just comes back… If he just came home, you would be better! Whatever he needed, whatever he wanted, you’d give it to him! Somehow you’d have the right words this time. You would tell him exactly what hear to make it all stop hurting. Whatever it took…

And you bargained hard. You bargained and bartered and you petitioned and you pleaded. You begged whatever god that was listening, tried to sell your soul to the devil, if only, if only it would bring Sasuke back!

But if god existed, he wasn’t listening and the devil had no use for a spirit like yours. You were alone, screaming to the sky.

~

“Sasuke! You’re awake! I was just gonna stop by to see you.”

Sasuke could see that you were in a rush even if you didn’t say it. You were dressed, running your fingers through your hair to throw it up into a bun. There was a dumpling hanging delicately from between your teeth, signaling your quick breakfast you were trying to take on the go.

At this point, Sasuke knew you well.

It wasn’t often Sasuke came to you when he was struggling, at least not outright. There were plenty of times he’d sought your presence to simply suffer in silence, but at least he wasn’t suffering by himself.

This time, he didn’t want to suffer silently. Not right now at least. He’d been thinking hard, struggling all week since Itachi had put him under the Tsukuyomi. Tsunade had been able to bring him back from his comatose state, but hadn’t been able to mend what Itachi had broken and bent in his mind for the second time.

You wouldn’t find out til later, but Sasuke had come straight from the hospital not after waking up, but after challenging Naruto to a fight. Kakashi had broken the two up just before they’d about blown their arms off.

Naruto was surpassing him. That much was so clear, so obvious to him now, but no one wanted to admit it. If even Naruto, the worst of the worst in the academy was getting better than him, at this rate, how would he ever be strong enough to kill Itachi?

Kakashi had lectured him heavily about losing the friends he had left in his mourning of the family that was long gone. It was what Sasuke had wanted to talk to you about. Somehow, he knew Kakashi was right, but when he’d spent the last five years thinking of getting revenge on Itachi, he didn’t know how to reconcile what Kakashi was telling him.

“Stop by? Are you going somewhere?” Sasuke asked the obvious as you finally fixed your hair. You grabbed the dumpling, taking a bite as you nodded.

“To see my aunt,” You said through a mouth full of food. “In the village of the hidden rain.” You tilted your head, peering at him curiously. “Everything okay?”

Sasuke considered the question. You were going out of town, would be gone for a few days at least no doubt. Now probably wasn’t the best time to bring this up, but he wasn’t sure if it could wait until you got back.

As he began to respond, your attention was taken by your dad yelling from inside the house. “Finish packing your bag so we can go!”

You glanced behind you back into the house, rolling your eyes with a sigh. “Hold up!” You snapped before turning your gaze back to Sasuke. “Sorry about that. We’re running behind now, not that it’s my fault.” You gave a small laugh.

Sasuke knew he could have pushed it, and you would have dropped everything to listen to him. Your parents be damned. It’d just been a moment you were distracted from him because of your dad yelling. But now, suddenly, the words left Sasuke. He had nothing to say.

“It’s fine. I just wanted to stop by since they discharged me.” He lied easily, the words slipping off his tongue without dilemma. Even so, you usually would have picked up on it. You would have known that something was off, and you needed to pry.

It was just one time, one moment where you didn’t push him. You were in a rush, afterall, and you’d be back in a couple of days.

It was only hours after you left that the Sound Four had appeared to Sasuke, and minutes after, he was gone.

That moment would replay in your mind constantly in your mind, on repeat until it drove you insane.

You should have noticed. You should have noticed. You should have noticed.

You should have stayed.

~

Time heals nothing, but it gives you more things to worry about. You never thought it’d be possible, but Sasuke was no longer on the forefront of your mind at every moment. Every day, sure, but you were able to function in society, get stronger and attend to your duties.

You were no longer drowning in the sorrow of missing Sasuke, though that was where you’d been for so long you never thought you’d escaped. But finally, you’d hit the last stage of grief.

Acceptance. Sasuke was gone and there was nothing you could do.

You could have lived out the rest of your life in that acceptance, pushed the dull, ever present pain aside and pretend it wasn’t there, but you couldn’t do that. Naruto Uzumaki wouldn’t let you.

Hope was alive and well in Naruto’s heart and thus he stirred it in yours. “I’m gonna bring Sasuke back. Just you watch.” He’d grin at you.

You didn’t know where in the stages grief you were now, but you believed Naruto. He’d get Sasuke home even if you couldn’t.

You wished he never gave you that hope.

Kiba had picked up Sasuke’s scent. You were almost there. Almost to Sasuke…

That was when the orange masked Akatsuki member intercepted your team, keeping you from reaching Sasuke. You were desperate, feral almost as you attacked the man. To move him, killl him, it didn’t matter to you. You just needed to get past him, to get to Sasuke!

Another Akatsuki member appeared then, taking the attention from the masked man. You were about to make a break for it, but that’s when you heard him.

“Itachi is dead.”

The words settled on you, blood rushing to you ears and drowning out everything else. That was what Sasuke had always wanted; he’d finally done it. He’d killed Itachi, gotten his revenge. This should be a good thing.

You couldn’t explain it, but something was settling in your gut, a horrible, nauseating feeling that this was wrong. This wasn’t how things should have ended. Despite everything you knew and believed, you suddenly had the certainty that Itachi wasn’t the heartless monster everyone had believed he was.

Was it intuition, coincidence, or some unexplained connection you had to Sasuke? Glancing at Naruto, you could see he felt it too.

None of you noticed the masked man had disappeared. You followed Kiba as quick as your feet could carry you to where he tracked Sasuke’s scent, but by the time you got there, it was too late. He was gone.

“This is as far as I can smell him… We lost him.” Kiba told the team reluctantly.

You dropped to your knees, hand clutching desperately at your chest. You couldn’t breathe. It hurt; it hurt so fucking much you were sure you would die. The pain in your heart seized every part of you, knocking the air from your lungs and causing you to convulse.

Dropping to the floor, you began to sob. Those heart broken, anguished cries you thought you ran out of years ago.

“Sasuke…”

How you knew, you couldn’t be sure. But it wasn’t your own pain you were feeling. It was Sasuke’s tears that flowed down your cheeks and his aching regret that filled your heart. Where was he? You wanted nothing more than to be there with him now, to wrap him up in your arms and never let him go.

The team winced as you weeped so brokenly, the sound shattering their hearts.

You’d never understood, not really. As much as you wanted to, despite your best attempts, you never could grasp the layers of Sasuke’s pain. If only you’d been able to. If only you knew the storm that was building inside of him, leaving him restless and agitated, desperate for the carnage to end. You wish you knew that he couldn’t stand it, the way that every beat of his heart left him in pure agony.

Was there a way you could have made his heart beat better?

Every night, you saw Sasuke in your dreams, his back to you as he left. You lived it over and over and over again.

”Sasuke,” You called for the first time, watching him pause, but not turning to look at you. “Before you go… Was there something I could have said or done? To make it all stop hurting?” You waited for an answer that never came. Sasuke stood there for a few more moments before he walked away, disappearing into darkness.

You guessed you would never know.

[jungshookz]

the one where yoongi hates his therapist but kind of likes her receptionist; lveb!verse

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; lveb!universe equal parts emotionally constipated and cheeky yoongi!! the man of our dreams!! i don’t really know what to categorize this drabble as but it’s cute and it’s sfw <3 

➺ wordcount: 5k 

➺ summary; yoongi hates going to therapy - but you and your dumb little hershey kisses make it a tiny bit better, he supposes. 

➺ what to expect; “you like a man who’s unable to form emotional bonds with people, baby?”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but feel free to read la vie en bonsai just to get a feel for what yoongi’s like and why we’re all falling hopelessly in love with him!! 

                                          »»————-　♡　————-««

“see you next week, yoongi!”

“uh-huh, yep.” the smile on yoongi’s face drops as soon as he shuts the door behind him and he immediately rolls his eyes

well

that was an hour and a half of his life that could’ve gone towards something more productive

watching paint dry probably would’ve been more productive than whatever the hell that was

dr. i-don’t-have-chairs-but-i-have-beanbags basically spent the entire session asking him to list out things that he loved which he thought was going to be an easy task because he liked a lot of things!

and everything was easy peasy lemon squeezy until dr. glittery-purple-nameplate pointed out that yoongi kept saying that he ‘liked’ this and he ‘liked’ that and he’d never actually said he ‘loved’ anything once and then she went into the whole ‘why do you think you’re so scared of love?’ thing and his eyes rolled so far back into his skull that he actually saw his pink, wrinkly brain

he knows that she’s just doing her job but he’d really appreciate if one of his sessions with her just consisted of the two of them sitting in silence while scrolling through their phones

he even asked her one time if it’d be alright if they did that just so he could tell his friend (the one that sent him here) that he willingly sat through an entire session of therapy 

obviously she said no and yoongi resisted the urge to use that as an excuse to give her 1/5 stars on google reviews (unfortunately the option to give 0 stars isn’t available) 

it’s just really hard to believe that dr. are-you-more-comfortable-opening-up-to-my-homemade-handpuppet-rory-the-lion has 5/5 shining gold stars on basically every single one of her google reviews

yoongi should be happy that he’s going to one of the best therapists in the city but he’s noT because: he doesn’t even need therapy!

he doesn’t even know why he’s here!

he shouldn’t be in therapy!

he’s min frickin yoongi!!

what the hell does he need a therapist for??

what the hell does he need therapy for?!

he can literally solve his own problems

if he’s sad he just plays video games all day and also eats an entire pint of ice cream  

if he’s mad he just plays violent video games all day and aggressively shoves an entire pint of ice cream into his mouth

he’s spent his entire life coming up with different coping mechanisms for himself and he thinks that he has a pretty good grip on his emotions

the only one that he’s a little iffy about is obviously <3 love <3 but-

that’s not a big deal, is it?

yes, technically speaking, he’s “emotionally unavailable” or whatever, but he really doesn’t know why that’s such an issue

yes, the thought of committing to someone in a long-term relationship and the thought of saying “i love you” to someone makes him want to rip his skin off but again, he really doesn’t know why that’s such a big iSSUE

besides

emotional unavailability is sexy

whenever he tells someone that he’s incapable of loving and the sex we’re going to have in three seconds will be animalistic and primal and will also mean nothing to me whatsoever their underwear basically flies off their legs and out the window

so, again: what! is! the! big! problem!

the only reason why he’s here is because, as mentioned earlier, one of his friends set up an appointment for him because god knows he’s not here of his own accord

(also, she did it without asking him first, so he’s still a little upset with her, but she made him a whole batch of brownies as a form of an apology so now he’s a little less upset with her. just a little, though.)

he knows she means well and only wants the best for him but he’s starting to think that maybe she sent him here to torture him and not to help him

his original plan was to go for like one or two sessions and then end it there buT there’s just a teeny little detail he has yet to mention 

there is one (1) thing that keeps him coming back every week

he’d even go as far as to say that this thing is the only thing that motivates him to continue to waste his hard-earned money on these weekly appointments

and that thing is-

“yoongi!” your eyes light up and yoongi can’t help but smile at how excited you are to see him even though you literally saw him when he was checking in an hour and a half ago, “how was your session?”

“it was-”

“oh, wait!” you gasp before pressing a finger up against your lips, “i don’t know if i’m legally allowed to ask you that. pretend i didn’t said anything.”

“my session was fine-” yoongi ignores you as he folds his arms up on the counter and leans forward, “i’m still dead on the inside and the concept of love remains ever so terrifying, so… yeah! everything’s pretty much the same.”

“ah, yes.” you lean forward as well, “that’s exactly what every girl wants to hear.”

“oh yeah?” the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a smirk, “you like a man who’s unable to form emotional bonds with people, baby?” he asks in a particularly sultry tone and you grin in response

“you gotta stop calling me that before i fully fall in love with you, yoongi-” you sigh dramatically before flittering your lashes at him and yoongi laughs lightly, “well, it is what it is. one day at a time, right?”

“baby steps.” yoongi hums and you nod in agreement before suddenly perking up

“hey- you want a kiss?”

another reason why yoongi enjoys your company is because you keep a little gumball machine on your desk

except you despise gumballs (you told him that on his very first day here when he asked you why there were no gumballs in what was obviously a mini gumball machine) so you filled it up with hershey’s chocolate kisses instead (you change the flavour of them every week! last week they were the milk chocolate almond ones)

“a kiss? from you?” yoongi digs his hands into his pockets, “at least let me put some chapstick on first, darling.”

“you know what i mean, yoongi.” you roll your eyes playfully before plopping the machine down in front of him, “they’re the cookies and creme ones this week!”

"mhm. whatever helps you sleep at night, y/n.”

                                                                  ♡

“see you next week, yoongi!”

“you got it, chief.” yoongi forces a smile before promptly shutting the door behind him

he lets out a huff before shaking his hair out of his eyes

somehow the hour and a half in there felt more like four hours and a half

he kept looking at the clock and whenever he thought that at least a good twenty minutes had gone by, it’d turn out that only like two and a half minutes had gone by!

he feels like maybe once the door is shut that time just ceases to exist

today he was forced to talk about all of the romantic relationships he’s ever had and that’s something that he’s never really discussed with… anyone, really.

not even his closest friends! 

yoongi’s had a multitude of flings but he’s been in three serious-ish relationships (yes, he knows that’s a huge surprise) - obviously none of them worked out because he’s now in therapy for his intimacy issues, but still

needless to say, they messed him up pretty bad

see, his problem was (and you probably wouldn’t be able to guess it after looking at him) the fact that he… fell in love too hard and way too fast.

his first one was in high school - he was pretty much ready to marry this girl and even gave her a promise ring to which she freaked out and broke up with him on the spot 

(she said she felt that it would be better if they broke up since they were both going off to different universities and long distance relationships were tough)

(on the same day they broke up she immediately changed her facebook status back to single which yoongi thought was a pretty icy thing to do)

his second one was in his first year of university (not very long after the high school breakup because that’s how desperate he was to fall in love again) and he wasn’t super sure if he loved this person or if he just wanted to fill the empty void inside of him bUT after two months of dating yoongi asked them if they wanted to move into the same dorm together for the second semester of first year - they said no. 

and then they broke up with him. 

and yoongi ended up with a single-person dorm, which was great!

:D because it meant no one could hear him crying himself to sleep at night worrying that he would never find true love and that no one would ever love him :D

and finally, with his last relationship, he told [unnamed person because yoongi would like to keep that private, thank you very much] that he loved them, like, two weeks after they’d started properly dating (they’d known each other for a year before getting together so yoongi didn’t think it was that weird. it’s not that weird, right??)

long story short, they didn’t say it back, and instead responded with: “oh! thank… you?” and that was a pretty devastating (and humiliating) blow for yoongi and it was after that breakup that he decided that things just had to change

he couldn’t be this person for the rest of his life!

this pathetic wimpy shrimPY little ‘<3 i love you <3’ weak-ass PUNK

eventually he figured that if he just turned all his emotions off, he wouldn’t run into anymore issues

it’s like that saying mo’ money mo’ problems except in this case it would be less emotions less problems

and he thinks it’s been working out pretty well for him so far!

he’s never gotten attached to any of his one-night stands (although he can’t say the same for them, because c’mon - he’s an absolute catch)

and he kind of takes pleasure knowing that they want to have something more with him when he doesn’t want anything at all

he likes playing with feelings

it’s like dangling a piece of candy over a little baby

it’s fun!

…does that make him a twisted individual? 

is he going to go to hell for being a little emotionally manipulative?

also he always finds himself snickering whenever one of his friends started talking about how much they love (gags) their significant others

even the one who sent him here - she just started dating someone in her apartment building - is fully in love with her significant other (he might even go as far to say it was love at first sight for the both of them (double gag)) and sometimes yoongi has to shove a croissant into her mouth just to get her to stop blabbing about how fond she is of her boyfriend

after all this time, yoongi has finally figured out that love is merely a concept

it’s not real!

it’s an idea. 

love is not real.

so, again - yoongi genuinely doesn’t see the issue with being emotionally unavailable. 

this isn’t just him being stubborn or anything - he literally cannot come up with one single reason as to why being emotionally constipated is such a bad thing 

real life constipation is pretty bad but emotional constipation is totally fine! 

emotions make everything that much more difficult and he doesn’t have the time nor the energy to deal with it

being emotionally unavailable makes life easy, breezy AND beautiful!

...

of course, there is the one slight issue that sometimes pops into his mind

is he okay with being like this for the rest of his life?

because if he is, he’s… literally going to die alone.

sure, his friends will be there (unless they die before him, in which case he’s actually going to be alone), but even yoongi has to admit that platonic companionship and romantic companionship are two entirely different things 

is he truly incapable of falling in love with someone? 

he... doesn’t like thinking about that

he prefers to keep those gloomy thoughts tucked away in the dusty basement of his brain

he’d much rather think about-

“yoongi!” you greet as enthusiastically as always as yoongi rounds the corner, “have fun today?”

fun?

in therapy?

that’s hilarious.

“fun? oh, yeah.” yoongi snorts as he folds his arms up on the countertop, “i even got to talk to rory today.”

the two of you exchange knowing glances and you snort before quickly reaching up to clap a hand over your mouth

hey! 

you’re supposed to be supportive of rory’s role in therapy!

he has a very important job

one might say that his job of providing emotional support is far more important that yours, you measly little receptionist

you make appointments all day but rory saves lives 

“well, i’m… glad that rory is helping you during these trying times.” you clear your throat as you straighten up in your seat

if you get caught making fun of rory you’re dead meat

“mhm.” yoongi nods before leaning over a little, “now gimme a kiss, babe.”

your heart skips a beat in your chest and you can’t help but grin when yoongi turns his head and points to his cheek, “well?”

“milk chocolate caramel this week, babe.” you hum as you place the little gumball machine in front of him

“ooh, yummy-“ yoongi’s eyes widen in excitement as he cranks the metal knob, “so, you got any plans tonight?”

a single kiss plops out and he opens up the little metal flap to take it out

“eh, i mean i guess i do?” you shift in your seat before shrugging, “sort of.”

yoongi raises a brow as he unwraps the tin foil, “what’s that supposed to mean? you got a hot date or something?”

“...yep!”

wait what

yoongi pauses right as he’s about to pop the chocolate into his mouth

because he was… just kidding about that

that was supposed to be a joke

“oh!” yoongi clears his throat, “well, who- who are you… who are you going out with? tell me about them.”

“oh, you don’t wanna-” you shake your head, “the details are boring, i promise it’s nothing to geek out over-”

“no, c’mon! tell me.” yoongi shoves the wrapping into his mouth as the chocolate melts over his tongue, “give me the deets.”

“alright, well…” you reach up to push your glasses up, “i actually met him at the club that he works at! he’s a bartender. we’ve gone out on a couple of dates and he’s really nice! he’s super nice, i just- i don’t know. i guess i just- there’s not much of a spark, you know? he’s taken me out four times and he kissed me on the last one and it was nice but… i don’t know. i’m not sure i even know where i’m going with this story- b-but he’s nice!”

yoongi nods slowly as he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek

ah

well

good for you!

whatever

you’re going on a date and it’s whatever

it’s not like he cares

because if he cared it would imply that he has feelings for you

and in case it wasn’t already clear, yoongi is incapable of having any feelings at all because that’s just who he is

he’s spent years building his status as an emotionless android and he’s not going to let a stinky girl like you ruin it (you are not stinky. you smell like pears and it’s very pleasing to his nostrils. and he hates that he spent thirty minutes at the drugstore sniffing multiple shampoos until he found the one that he’s pretty sure is the one you use. and now his pillows smell like you.) 

“nice, nice…” yoongi mutters under his breath, “anyways, i should, um, probably go! i’m like, two minutes away from getting a parking ticket-” he laughs nervously before reaching up to scratch the back of his head

“oh! okay, yeah-” you take the gumball machine down and set it back down next to your monitor, “are you- is everything okay?”

yoongi’s no longer looking at you and you’re usually the first one to break eye contact so this is… odd  

“yeah, i just- i remembered i had a thing, so-” yoongi coughs into his fist, “yeah, i gotta go.”

“should i- should i put you down for next week, or-” you get up from your seat quickly when yoongi basically sprints towards the elevators

“yeah!” he flicks his wrist at you, “um, yeah- go for it. i’m just gonna-”

ding!

the elevator doors slide open and yoongi rushes in at the speed of light

“s-same time, or-”

the door glide shut before you get a chance to finish asking your question and you can’t help but feel a little… rejected?

even though you’re not entirely sure what it is you’re being rejected by

that was weird

that was weird, right?

it’s not just your imagination?

you frown to yourself as you plop back down on your squeaky chair

maybe your chocolates tasted funky or something?

you unwrap one for yourself before popping it into your mouth

…

no, the chocolates are fine!

what went wrong?

you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously as you quickly go through what just happened

everything was fine

everything was normal up until the point you said you were going out on a date…

oOh, maybe you shouldn’t have brought up dates or anything like that

you don’t know too much about yoongi’s sessions besides the fact that he has intimacy issues but maybe the subject of dating was triggering for him?

damnit

you idiot!

this is why you could never be a therapist because you’d probably end up traumatizing your patients instead of helping them 

you should’ve just told yoongi that your plans tonight involved NO dating and it was just going to be you going to town on a pizza at home

it’s too bad

you were kind of hoping the reason why he started acting so weirdly was because he didn’t want you to go out on a date

here’s the thing: 

you… you sort of… have a little crush on yoongi. at least, you think you do.

you can’t help it!

he’s surprisingly very sweet and he has that boyish charm that you’re really into anD he’s also super goofy AND hello!!!! even when you’re not wearing your glasses you can see that he’s really attractive!!!

sometimes you find yourself daydreaming about that smirk of his 

it just makes you feel tingly 

...

what were you talking about again?

oh

right! 

you’re pretty sure the two of you use the same shampoo and you don’t want to be that person but... 

match made in heaven? 

you’d like to think so. 

you just don’t want to ruin this super fun and bantery and also kind of flirty relationship you have with him (though, now that you’re thinking about it, you can’t help but wonder if it’s actual flirting or if yoongi’s just doing his thing) and you knoW he’s definitely going to freak out if you’re suddenly like hey,.,. do u,.,. maybe wanna go out on a date or something.,,. because i think i have a teeny crush on you because even though you’re dead on the inside you are OBSCENELY charming and witty and attractive and everything i want in a significant other,.,.

yoongi would run for the hills if he ever found out you felt that way about him!

“good going, y/n.” you grumble to yourself as you lean back against your chair

well

you can worry about your yoongi-related issues later

you have a date with a cute bartender to get to

a cute, very nice bartender

                                                                 ♡

yoongi’s jealous.

at least, he thinks he’s jealous

this is weird, right?

because yoongi doesn’t get jealous!

he doesn’t get jealous over anything so whY does he not like the idea of you going out with someone who isn’t him?

yoongi squeezes his fingers tighter around his steering wheel as he stares ahead with knitted brows

he left the office like half an hour ago and now he’s just been sitting in his car in silence

and before you ask, yes, there was a parking ticket tucked behind his windshield wiper when he came down here

“jealous, jealous…” yoongi mutters to himself before shaking his head and letting out a huff, “no. i’m not jealous. i’m not!”

he’s not jealous because he doesn’t like you!

he doesn’t!

he likes flirting with you, it doesn’t mean that he likes you

of course, if he didn’t like you… he wouldn’t be grinning like an idiot every time you greet him

if he didn’t like you, he would’ve called you out on your lame ‘you want a kiss?’ joke a long, lonG time ago - instead he just lets you keep saying it because he knows you like making the same joke over and over again

if he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t be coming back to therapy every week, for crying out loud

if he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have bought pear-scented shampoo for himself

he should be buying manly shampoos!

like… winter breeze!

or… musky oak??

or diRTy monster truck??!? (he’s not sure if that’s an actual shampoo scent for men, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was)

you know, those kinds of scents!

not frickin pear

yoongi pauses when he realises that he actually doesn’t mind the thought of waking up next to you

he feels his heart skip a beat and he gasps in surprise before quickly slapping his hand up against his chest

oh god

it’s happening!

“…son of a bitch!” yoongi groans as he slams his head back against the headrest, “are you kidding me?!”

he’s feeling!

NO!!!!

that, or he’s having a heart attack

(he’d rather have the heart attack.)

yoongi turns his head right as you exit the building and he doesn’t know where these emotions are coming from but all of a sudden he’s being flooded with what can only be describe as…

pure, blinding rage

“what the hell did you put in those damn chocolates?!” yoongi slams the car door behind him and you practically leap ten feet into the air

“i have no money in my wallet i only have a starbucks gift card and it has like three dollars left on- oh.” you immediately relax when you realize that you’re not about to be robbed

it’s just yoongi 

your eyes widen in slight fear when you see him storm his way over to you with his fists clenched at his sides looking like he wants to skin you alive

“you are unbelievable.”

“me??” you shake your head in confusion, “yoongi, what are you-” you pause to glance down at your watch, “why are you still here? you left, like, forty minutes ago-”

“answer the question, y/n!“ yoongi crosses his arms, “you did something to those chocolates! that’s the only reason why i’m feeling like this-”

“what- i don’t- is it your stomach or something?? maybe you’re lactose intolerant-”

“nO, i don’t mean i physically feel something-“ yoongi looks around before leaning in, “i’m feeling something.”

you frown

“yoongi, the chocolates aren’t special chocolates, if that’s what you’re implying. there are kids that come to the office, i can’t go around giving out marijuana infused hershey kisses-”

“i don’t want you to go out with your nice bartender guy!” yoongi blurts out, “because i… i want you to go out with me instead.”

you pull back in surprise before tilting your head curiously

…what?

“what do you- what are- what?” you ask incredulously before narrowing your eyes at him

did he just... ask you out?

yoongi swallows nervously

his pure rage has now been replaced by pure anxiety

“i’m saying that i-” yoongi shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “i’m- i wanna be the one to take you out. o-on a date. or whatever they’re called.”

“you wanna take me out on a date?” you ask dumbly and yoongi rolls his eyes

“a.. i mean i guess it’s technically a da..ate...” yoongi’s mouth goes dry and you can see the panic quickly filling his pretty brown eyes 

“we don’t- we don’t have to call it a date!” you perk up, “we can just... we can call it a... flirty hangout!” 

“a flirty hangout?”

“a flangout.”

“a flangout.”

yoongi takes a second to think it over

a flangout

yeah!

he can do a flangout because a flangout is noT a date 

“i’m sorry, i just-” you wave a hand in front of yourself, “i thought your whole schtick was that you didn’t believe in dates- flangouts- and ooey-gooey holding hands related situations, so why would you wanna-”

“because i like you!” yoongi groans before looking away from you and running a hand through his hair, “i think? i don’t know, okay? i know that i’m definitely attracted to- i just- you make me- i like talking to you after my sessions are over, and i like that you keep a gumball machine on your desk even though it still doesn’t make sense to me that you’ve filled it with kisses and not with actual gumballs, and i like that even though you know i, professionally speaking, have very intense intimacy issues, i-i like that you don’t judge me for it...” he trails off before letting out a breath and turning back to face you, “you can say no, obviously, but… i just think you’re really pretty and i think you know exactly what you’re doing whenever you ask me if i want a kiss.”  

you blink owlishly at yoongi and he immediately feels like he’s about to projectile vomit everywhere

see??

this is exactly what he means when he says that feelings make literally everything ten times more complicated

he just told you that he likes you and now he just made things awkward!

which means noW he has to go find a new therapist-

wait, no

nope! he’s not going to find another therapist - he’s just going to noT go to therapy

why?

because min frickin’ yoongi doesn’t need therapy-

“i do.” yoongi looks at you with wide eyes when you suddenly speak up

you do

did… did he PROPOSE to you?!

great!!

of course he did!!

his feelings are back and they’re even worse than before-

“i do know exactly what i’m doing whenever i ask you if you wanna kiss-“ you hold up a finger to correct yourself, “if you want a kiss.”

“i’m happy with either one of those options-“

“there is one minor issue, though.” you turn your phone around to show yoongi, “what am i supposed to tell sweet tae?”

“who the hell is tae- ohhhh, bartender guy.” yoongi winces as he glances at your texts briefly, “i forgot about him.”

“nice bartender guy!!” you push your bottom lip out in a pout as you scroll through your texts with taehyung

:-(

his last message to you was ‘excited for tonight!! see you soon :-)’

:-(((((((

“do you… do you genuinely like him?” yoongi asks cautiously

“i mean, i- i don’t noT like him, you know?” you sigh and reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “it’s just that… he’s so nice-”

“okay, i think we’ve got that part covered-”

“i don’t wanna break his heart!!” you whine, “what do i do?!”

“alright, here’s what you’re going to do-” yoongi clears his throat, “you go out with him tonight-”

“but i don’t want to lead him o-” 

“you go out with nice bartender tae tonight to tell him that it’s over. and you tell him that you’ve really enjoying spending time with him, but you feel like the two of you would be better off as friends. it’s simple, it’s clean, it’s straight to the point! no harm, no foul.” yoongi dusts his hands off before smiling proudly, “and then i’ll take you to the mcdonalds drive-thru for dessert.”

“i mean, i guess so…” you purse your lips in thought, “should i, like… if he kisses me or something, should i kiss him back?”

“you’re going to pity-kiss him?” yoongi gasps dramatically before tutting at you, “wow. and i’m the one in therapy.”

“wha-”

“now, c’mon-” yoongi places his hand on the small of your back as he leads you towards his car, “let me drive you to your gross date so that we can go on our cool flangout afterwards-”

“you know, they’re doing a limited edition chips ahoy mcflurry right now-“ you grin excitedly as yoongi opens the door for you, “you wanna split one with me?”

“split one?” yoongi scoffs and bends down a little so he can look you directly in the eye, the corner of his mouth curling upwards in a teasing smirk, “baby, i’ll get you your very own mcflurry-”

(it turns out that taehyung actually planned to end things tonight, too - he said if you ever made your way back to his bar he’d give you a cocktail on the house! so, it looks like you can have your cake and eat it too.) 

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Strawberry Jam Sandwich | Regulus Black x Reader

Warnings: Nothing :)

Time/Era: Marauders Era

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Y/N Potter and Regulus Black are a match made from heaven, even if other people didn’t expect it. 

Request: hello first of all I really like your writing and hope you and your loved ones are doing well. could you write a regulus black fic? like reader is James’ sister and they get married (because regulus doesn’t die) and years later they meet Harry?

A/N: Thank you and thank you for the request! Let me know how you like it! Enjoy! I love Reg and I’m so excited to FINALLY write for him!! For anyone else wanting a fic; please request away! 

masterlist | read on ao3

Y/N Potter and Regulus Black were a weird pairing in most people’s eyes. Both being the younger siblings of the two most popular guys in school, it made their peers raise their eyebrows. Not to mention, they were in rival houses and seemed to be on opposite sides of the war. But they just worked. 

Y/N was a lot like her older brother, James; very loud and loveable. She was naturally talented on the quidditch field and loved to make friends. It was obvious that she had relationships with people of all the houses due to her outgoing attitude and warm sense of humor. While Regulus also played quidditch, he was much more introverted and shy. He didn’t have many friends, due to being categorized by his surname automatically, so he often kept to himself and spoke only when necessary. Y/N was the talker, Regulus was the listener. 

Funnily enough, Y/N and Regulus met through the means of getting Sirius to make amends with Regulus again. Regulus had cornered Y/N in the library and begged her to help him come up with a plan to talk to his brother. They ended up meeting multiple times in the following weeks and grew to be friends. 

Regulus adored her ability to be interested in small things; she once asked him what a necklace he wore meant. It didn’t mean anything in particular, but she sat and listened to him speak about his jewelry for almost 15 minutes. No one ever took the time to listen to what the younger Black sibling had to say. 

To their ‘plan sessions” in the library, Y/N always brought a strawberry jam sandwich to munch on. They met after her quidditch practices, so James and Sirius wouldn’t find them, which meant she needed a snack to keep her energy levels up. She always offered him half, which the rather regal boy would decline nearly every time. Nearly. Regulus found her little snack absolutely adorable, especially when the jam got all over her face. It made her lips even pinker, and that much more kissable. 

The sandwich became an inside joke between the two quickly. Even when passing in the halls, they would scoff and find the most outlandish way to mention the food. It wasn’t funny in hindsight, but it was something that connected the two in its ridiculousness. 

~

Regulus paced back and forth among the bookshelves of the Hogwarts library, hoping to bump into his now best friend, Y/N. The library was near empty, as it was Friday night and very close to curfew, so even just looking for her held very little hope. She had mentioned something about having to finish an assignment she was procrastinating, so Regulus hoped she followed his advice to just get it over with. 

The bookshelves were high and blocked most of the ceiling in the room, making the books impossible to read. Long, vertical shadows cast their darkness over almost every inch of the floor and offered very little light to allow him to navigate the maze of shelves.  During the day, of course, this was a different considering the wall of windows that looked over the courtyards. The window seats were some of his favorite places to come and think. And the seats just happened to be his and Y/N’s meeting spot. 

Regulus was about to give up on his search, but he noticed Y/N hunched over an astronomy book, sitting on the floor with her back leaning against a bookshelf. He casually slipped next to her, offering a shy hello. 

“Hey, Black. What are you doing here?” 

“I was about to ask you the same thing, Potter. Not exactly the best studying environment.” Regulus tilted his head back until it hit the books and turned his head to see her. 

“Well, I’m trying to save myself from having to do this entire project tomorrow. I have a book, yet you appear literature-less. What’s your excuse?” Y/N moved so she sat with her legs crossed, the thick book laid open on her lap. 

“I came to return this, you left it at our last meeting.” He placed a slightly toasted strawberry jam sandwich on the book. It was wrapped lazily in a green napkin and left an abundance of crumbs on her homework. Upon further inspection, the words will you be my girlfriend? were scribbled messily on the paper in black ink. Y/N’s jaw grew slack as she looked over at the highly attractive man next to her. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I just wanted to ask.” 

“Are you being serious?” 

“Dead, Y/N.” 

A smile crept over her features and she held out half of the sandwich. “Suppose we can start our relationship with a snack?” 

Regulus accepted the food, making a subtle crunching noise as he bit into it. “I suppose I can make the exception to eat your exceptionally plain choice in snack food, just this once.” 

~

“I’m sorry, you’re dating who?” James laughs, shrugging his younger sister off before grabbing his broom. 

By this point, Y/N and Regulus have been sneakily dating for more than half a year and Y/N was tired of hiding their relationship. After Regulus and Sirius had failed to rekindle their relationship, Sirius shoved his brother even further away than they started. It hurt the younger black to the point of giving up, but even he was tired of hiding their relationship. He loved Y/N with his entire being, and his jerky older brother couldn’t ruin that. 

“Have you ever even talked to Regulus before?” Sirius adds, grabbing his own broom to prep for quidditch practice. 

“Yes, and I am dating him. Not sure what’s so hard to understand about that.” 

“We understand it, just don’t believe it. Now, don’t speak about things you don’t understand.” James kicked off the ground and flew in the direction of the quidditch pitch. 

“Don’t understand? Excuse me?!” 

“He’s right. I know you were just trying to prank us, but joking about something that personal isn’t funny, Y/N.’’ Sirius mounts his own broom and flies off after James. 

After practice, Y/N hurried to the library to meet her slightly anxious boyfriend. Regulus knew you were telling Sirius and James, and he knew they would react badly. Y/N saw Regulus sitting on the windowsill furthest from the door and hurriedly walked over. 

“Hey! How’d it go?” He asked after Y/N pecked his lips and sat next to him. Regulus wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. 

“Not much to tell, really. They said I was trying to prank them and to not talk about things I didn’t understand. Honestly, I kind of wish they yelled.” 

Regulus laughed and kissed her temple. “They’ll come around, I’m not exactly their favorite person so I can see why they don’t believe it. And I’m happy they didn’t yell because I know how you feel when people yell and I don’t want you to feel like that.” 

“Holy shit! Get away from my sister!” James’ voice filled the area, Sirius quick on his heels. They must have been following Y/N after practice. 

~

“Riddle me this, you want to spy for the order and potentially get KILLED?!” Y/N paced around the living room of Regulus and her shared flat. 

It didn’t take long for Sirius to reaccept Regulus back into his life after seeing how he treated Y/N. At first, both older brothers thought Regulus was using Y/N to feed secrets and information to the opposing side of the war. They didn’t accept the couple and wanted Y/N to have nothing to do with the boy. But, after many feelings were hurt and various words were shared, they decided to give the boy a chance. 

Regulus treated Y/N like a queen and made sure his girl knew how much he loved her. He wasn’t very good with words, but his actions spoke volumes. Flower bouquets were gifted periodically, as were small gifts that had a lot of thought put into them. During one of their study dates, he spent over an hour drawing a beautiful portrait of her. Not too long after, he gave her an entire sketchbook of drawings he knew she would love. Whether that was pictures of her friends, family, her favorite flowers, or something as mundane as the bench she loved to sit on, the gift had taken hours and hours of his time. It was obvious that Regulus was in love with his girl. 

After graduating from Hogwarts, both Regulus and Y/N joined the Order of the Pheonix. Regulus still had heavy ties with Voldemort and his family, so Dumbledore asked him if he would consider being a spy for the Order. Even Sirius thought it was a bad idea. But, he had to prove that he wasn’t who he was raised to be. He had to prove himself to not only everyone around him, but to his inner soul. 

“Listen, Dumbledore thinks that there’s a spy that infiltrated the Order and if I can find out who, maybe I can stop it. Think about it, James has a kid, a kid who is very valuable to you-know-who. We haven’t even spent a ton of time with him yet, but I know I can save him if I find the spy.” 

“Yes, I realize that, Reg. But I can’t lose you in the process. We’re supposed to get married and have kids of our own and have a happy life-” Y/N takes a deep breath. “I can’t live without you.” 

Regulus smiles a comforting smile, taking his girlfriend’s hands in his. “I know, darling. I’m not going anywhere. How about this,” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small ring box, presenting it to Y/N. “Let’s get married. I’ve never been a fan of the big white wedding...and all you need is a few witnesses and two signatures. I’m sure Sirius and James would be more than willing to witness. What do you say?” 

Y/N gapes at her boyfriend. “Are you asking me to marry you?!” Regulus laughs and pecks her lips. 

“I love you so much, Y/N Potter. You are the light of my life and I am so lucky to have you. You have brought me so much joy and really made me the best person I could be,” He wipes a tear delicately from Y/N’s skin. “I asked James for his blessing, too, after the last Order meeting. He said he was ecstatic for us. So, Y/N, will you marry me? We can eat strawberry jam sandwiches together for the rest of our lives.”

“Yes! A thousand times yes!”

~

“Hi, little one, I’m your uncle, Regulus, remember?- Ow! Not the hair!” Regulus sat in a suit in the parlor of Potter cottage with one-year-old harry in his lap. Y/N watched from the doorway, decked out in her white cocktail dress and heels. She couldn’t help but gush at the sight of her soon to be husband with a child; it felt so natural. Her heart swelled just thinking about watching him play with their own children. 

“Yeah, he does that, keep him at a distance,” James responded, coming into the room. He was running late, as always, and was trying to tie his tie. “I can’t believe I’m witnessing my baby sister getting married!” 

Harry gargled and reached his hands towards his father. “Dadadadada!!!!” 

“I know, buddy, I’m right here. Hang out with your Uncle Reg for a while, yeah?” James responds, messing with his hair in the mirror. No matter how much he ‘fixed it,’ it all looked the same.

“It’s crazy how he looks so much like you, it’s like you copied your baby photos and made them come to life!” Y/N stated. Harry was almost an exact copy of James, but with Lily’s eyes. 

Sirius came into the room, perfectly dressed with his hair tied back. “Well, are we leaving or not?” He asked, fixing the bowtie around his neck in the mirror for the 8th time. 

“Pa’foo!” Harry squeals and squirms in Regulus’ arms. His grip tightens around the baby before pressing a kiss into his dark curls. 

“No, not Pa’foo! Reg!” Sirius turned towards Y/N and whistled. “Damn, Reggie, not sure how you picked up this one! Look at the legs on her! Phew, lucky I don’t snatch you up myself!” 

“Stop it! Can we please go?” Y/N swatted Sirius’s chest with her bag, embarrassed.

James plucked Harry from Regulus’ lap and hands him to Lily. “Yes, yes. Sorry, let’s go!” James kisses Lily’s cheek and disapperates out of his house.

Y/N walks over to Regulus and offers him a hand. “Ready to go get married?” 

“I’ve never been more ready, my love. “ 

[shingia]

Hello!!! I love ur fics sm 😭💖 This is weirdly specific and been plaguing my mind for days,,, Can I req an angsty fic where Atsumu broke up with the reader because he wants to chase his dreams and ultimately leaves but with the reader saying "I'll wait" . A few months later he seeks for the reader again and finds out the reader has terminal illness and is dying. You can decide if there's major character death or a miracle,,,, please and thank u so much!!

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐨 - 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

aw thank youuuu <33 and also WOW this request is in-tense, i modified the ‘terminal illness’ part a little bit for plot convenience, but i rly hope you’re gonna like it ! i am : stressed. also, i’m a sucker for happy endings (just ignore my last bokuto fic) so i couldn’t go full angst on that one 😅

quick storytime : my great grandpa died from heartbreak and i always thought it was a beautiful (yet very sad) way to die, so i guess that’s where i got my inspiration from <3

⤷  atsumu x gn!reader | angst | word count : 1.7K

warnings : hospital environment, heart condition, mild description of ‘illness’ and mentions of death (a little)

your first kiss with miya atsumu had been sloppy, dizzy, with a strong scent of rum and smudged lip balm all over your lips. but there was no doubt that it had been the best kiss of your entire lives…

…just like your last had been the worst. 

two months later, atsumu still couldn’t forget the salty taste of your lips that begged him not to leave. if he focused hard enough, he could even remember the feeling of your hands desperately clinging to his jacket in a last attempt at making him stay by your side.

but he didn’t, and as much as he hated himself for putting an end - even temporary - to what had been the most beautiful chapter of his life, he had never regretted his decision ; and he knew exactly why. you had promised to wait for him, and in pure egoism, he knew and hoped that you would. because no matter the distance, he was still madly in love with you.

which is why he did not understand why osamu was so outraged when he told him that he was finally ready to come back to you. but the younger twin knew things that his brother didn’t - he had seen you let yourself waste away, like nothing else mattered without the one you loved.

but more than that, atsumu did not know about the secret his brother promised to keep. he did not know that, two weeks ago, osamu had found you unconscious in your living room with an alarmingly slow heartbeat. the poor boy had not understood everything the doctors had told him - but whatever a cardiogenic shock was, he knew that it would have carried you off if without his intervention.

however, you had been categorical : atsumu shouldn’t not know about this, under any pretext. you refused to be a burden to the pursuit of his dreams for which he had already sacrificed so much for. but now that atsumu was back, something about this promise didn’t sit right with his brother. and so he decided to tell him everything.

« …most doctors thought about a standard heart attack » he told him after explaining the situation, on the lookout for any impulsive reaction from his brother. « … but one of them talked about something else. you might want to sit down ».

but atsumu couldn’t care less about his brother’s advice. actually, he didn’t care about anything else than you right now. it was already taking a lot of effort for him to stand there listening to samu instead of being on his way to the hospital - but he stayed. for an obscure reason that he didn’t really understand, he stayed.

« did you know that people can die of heartbreak ? » osamu asked, more serious than he had ever been in his whole life. 

the blonde twin felt like the ground had suddenly swallowed him whole - although his brother was trying his best not to sound too accusating, it was more than obvious that whatever situation you were in was because of him. and only him.

« no they can’t » he tried to protest, not even believing in his own words. panic was beginning to win him over - and in a matter of seconds, he lost all his composure « WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT MOVING ? LET’S GO ! » he shouted, already opening the front door. at that moment, one question burned his lips, but he knew he would never have the guts to ask it out loud. 

‘did i kill them ?’

——

the steady beeps of all the machines around you were the only thing disrupting the deafening silence of your hospital room. you were sick of spending your days alone. but you had no right to complain, osamu had offered to come and see you after work every day, but you had politely refused. well, politely was a big word… your body was so exhausted that you had trouble articulating simple phrases, and therefore exclusively communicated through nods or hand gestures.

your phone had been confiscated and the doctors kept you away from the news - or at least from the negative news, because they knew that your heart might give out at the tiniest emotional distress.

which is why you were so surprised to hear a knock on your door at about 3pm, outside of the nurses’ shift hours. knowing that you were too weak to talk, osamu let himself in, slowly closing the door behind him before coming closer to your bed.

« how are you doing ? » he asked, resting his hands on the other end of the bed. you shrugged, pointing at the IV and all the monitoring surrounding you. as long as these machines were there, it was hard to feel better than just ok. « listen, um… someone is here for you. the doctors said i could bring him in, but i wanted your authorization first… » he started before clearing his throat. « atsumu is back. do you- are you ready to see him ? ».

ready was probably not an appropriated word. but after two months spent pretending that he was still laying next to you in bed every night, still texting you good morning every day, still sending you the dumbest memes at the most random times, it would have been a huge mistake to refuse osamu’s proposition.

and so he let him in. obviously, atsumu had orders from the doctors and his brother : don’t run, don’t move too fast, don’t speak too soon, don’t touch them without warning. but nobody had asked him not to cry. and how could his eyes stay dry when you looked so fragile and so vulnerable ?

osamu quietly left the room, leaving the two of you together not without apprehension. but if there was one thing he could trust his brother on, it was taking care of you. two months could not have gotten the better of four years of relationship.

but as much as he cared about you, atsumu had always been - and still was - pretty bad with words. and the first ones that left his mouth were a great example. « are you going to die ? » he asked in a shaky voice, brows knitted.

you would have given him an answer if you had one, but you didn’t. the doctors said that you had gone through the most painful part, but the risks of aggravations were still too important to let you go home. you were not 100% safe yet.

« i told you i’d wait » you spoke in a hoarse voice, the beep of your heart monitor getting a little bit faster.

the steps atsumu took towards you were slow, like he had been told, but just one glance at his eyes was enough to know that deep down, he was dying to feel your skin against his.

« i know you probably hate me right now. and for good reasons » he started as he sat on the chair next to your bed, still painfully avoiding any contact. « but there’s something i need to tell you, in case… in case… well, if something were to happen ».

his eyes lingered on your fingertips, blue and cold, and his whole body tensed at once. the thought that everything you were going through had been caused by his own selfishness was driving him crazy. but he had one last thing to keep himself grounded, and that thing was exactly what he was about to tell you.

« i love you. but i caused you so much trouble that i think there’s only one way to prove it… » he said, taking a deep breath before finally resting a timid hand on your arm. « i want to marry you. right now. i don’t fucking care if it’s not considered official, i just want you to know that leaving you was probably the biggest mistake i ever did. and that i’m not leaving ever again. so fuck it, let’s get married ! you almost died, life’s too short to plan a stupid ceremony ».

he stopped for a few seconds, panting from his teary monologue and paying attention to any beep or other sound that might indicate that he had made things worse for you. but it seemed like you were doing ok. how could you not be ? the love of your life had just proposed to you - sure, it wasn’t how you had imagined it, but wasn’t it even more beautiful like that ?

the tears that started rolling down your cheeks were undoubtedly tears of happiness and relief to know that, finally, your life was back to normal. atsumu was your normality, and for the first time in two months, you finally felt like you had a purpose. you had no idea if soulmates existed, but what you had with atsumu seemed more than close enough.

if someone had entered the room at that moment, it’d probably have taken them several minutes to understand what was going on. two young adults, crying yet smiling, one of them laying on a hospital bed looking like they had been through hell and back, and the other tearing off two pieces of his t-shirt and looking genuinely proud of himself -  nothing about this made sense.

« my apologies, it was the easiest way to make us rings » atsumu chuckled, eyes still blurry as grabbed your hand in his with infinite tenderness. slowly, he tied the piece of cloth around your ring finger, loosely enough so that the doctors would not consider it dangerous for your blood circulation.

« i’m keeping that until you’re getting out of here. by my side. » he affirmed, pointing at his own makeshift ring before looking right into your eyes, as serious as ever. « and i’m also keeping you. forever. consider this my wedding vows »

as much as he hated to phrase it like that, you could both die in peace now.

i spent so much time on medical sites to be as accurate as i could, i felt like meredith mf grey for a few hours

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

[eleanorbloom]

Moonlight: Part Two

Disclaimer: Open Heart and most of the characters are owned by Pixelberry. Matilde is a creation of mine.

Book/Pairing: Open Heart / Bryce Lahela x F! MC (Matilde Luna)

Word Count: 2.5k Warnings/Rating: Angst, curse words/Teen.

Author’s Note: I'm so sorry for disappearing, adult life has been harder than expectected and only this week I had some spare time to edit this :(

Thank you so much to all the people that read the first part, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hope you like this as well 😊

A bug hug to you, beauties! ❤

Moonlight taglist: @dalishessence @curiousconch @chocopeppermintcake @utterlyinevitable @secretaryunpaid @kachrisberry @romereadingshop @thegreentwin @blackcatkita @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Let me know if you wanna me added to the taglist!

----

Part Two. Orbiting the Moon.

First days are always challenging.

They demand a lot of things. Bravery to explore the unknown (whether it be a place, a person, a job, even food); strength to meet new people when you weren’t blessed in the people skills department; patience to stand the new people who turn out to be shitty people; adaptability to adjust your ways of life to other people’s, etcetera.

It’s a lot.

So, it wouldn’t be a lie if I say that Bryce Lahela didn’t cross my mind after we parted ways at the Atrium that morning, even if his appearance can be categorized as ‘unforgettable’.

Between dealing with Aurora Damn Emery and her insufferable attitude and the fact that I almost killed my first patient on my very first day, I had no space for more.

All I could do was cursing internally (at Aurora and also me) and rethink every fucking decision I made that day. Wondering what would've happened if I hadn't been there the moment Annie had the anaphylactic shock, if Varma hadn't shown up to snap out of me when I froze... Endless questions.

All my dreams about being a doctor crumbled at that moment, wondering if I was doing the right thing, if I was made for this.

“You need to have a long, hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here.”

The face of Annie, unconscious, and Dr. Ramsey's words was all I could hear and see throughout the afternoon, intensifying the guilt with every passing second.

First day and I could've killed someone.

I couldn't even shut up the voice inside my head stating the facts.

First day and I am already a failure.

Because they were nothing but the truth.

Do I deserve to be here?

And there was no point in denying such hard evidence.

Right in the middle of a hallway, surrounded by immaculate white walls and shining lights, I felt exposed. Like everyone around me was going to find out the imposter I was.

I wanted to run away. Disappear.

Without thinking too much, I ran to the nearest supply closet I found before anyone could notice me and the state I was in.

Once under the darkness of the room, I leaned against the wall feeling my stomach trembling, my heartbeats resounding in my temples in slow motion.

“No puedo hacerlo,” I sighed, releasing a shaky breath as I was rubbing my hands on my face, “No… Mamá, no sé si puedo… Casi la mato.” (“I can’t do this,”//“I... Mamá, I don’t know if I can… I almost killed her”)

Fighting the tears back, I closed my eyes trying to evoke the face of my mama in my mind: her black and grey long hair, always in a perfect French braid, her dark and wrinkled eyes full of wisdom and warmth, and her thin lips curling in the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Creo que, no estoy hecha para esto,” I stated, helpless. (“I think I’m not cut out for this.”)

Just as I was trying to imagine what she would tell me in a case like this, what words she would use to calm me down and reassure me, I heard the door creaking.

A tall silhouette was standing at the entry, looking directly at me.

“Hey, Luna.”

Friendly voice. Sparkly eyes. Expensive, seductive perfume.

Lahela.

I stared speechless as he walked towards me, his brows knitted in worry, “Are you okay?”

I froze at his question. The sole fact he was there froze me, actually.

There was no way I’d tell him the truth, but I had so many things bottled up from that day; so many emotions, fears, anger, all that demanding to come out, that for a moment I thought I would spill all out.

And the way he was looking at me, evidently worried, waiting for an answer, made it even more plausible. Maybe I could tell him and maybe he would say something that could make me feel good. Just as good as he made me feel that morning on our short trip to the Atrium.

I opened my mouth to respond...

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t let myself do that. That was not me.

The risk was too big and I was a fucking coward.

So I gulped. I gulped as if I was swallowing all my feelings about to come out of my mouth, sour as bile, to let them deep buried inside of me, where they have always belonged.

I cleared my throat and I said instead, “Yeah, I'm okay…”

He arched an eyebrow, dubious, “You don't look like it. If you need to talk…”

I shook my head, nonchalantly.

He seemed earnestly worried, but I couldn't say anything. I didn't know him, and I don't talk to people I barely know, much less about the mess I was on my first day. And much, much less to another resident who could doubt my potential and right to be there. A fucking surgical resident that thinks is above anyone else.

He was the worst option in all Edenbrook.

Well, after Aurora Emery, of course.

“Don’t worry, it’s all good,” I insisted with a humorless smile, “What are you doing here, by the way? Need some syringes? Don't let me stop you.”

He shook his head this time, “No. I saw you in the hallway, I needed to check if you were okay.”

“I’m…”

I was ready to reply automatically as before, without even considering my answer. It didn't matter how bad I was, I was used to saying everything was okay even if my world was falling apart in a million pieces inside, because it was just pleasantries, force-of-habit questions, and people honestly never gave a shit about it, and it was okay. But this felt different. I couldn’t lie to him, but I also couldn’t tell him the truth.

Bryce probably realized my intern conflict, despite the darkness of the room -only dimly illuminated by some blindings mildly open behind the racks of medical supplies-, because he took a step closer to me, pensive, “Are you sure, Mat-”

The moment I saw him getting closer, I felt dread. Dread because I realized that I was an insistence away from speaking. From letting my resolve crumble and tell him the truth. Just a simple and insignificant truth that meant hell to me.

Before he could reach me, I slid away from him, and sprinted towards the exit, leaving him in the room without looking back.

What the fuck is happening to me?

I couldn't understand it. I’d always kept my shit inside and dealt with it on my own, and when I shared something, it was with someone I deeply trusted, a trust that could take months to get. But why suddenly I wanted to open up to someone I had met that day? Like a chatty drunk, the words wanted to slip out of my mouth, recklessly.

Maybe it was the fact that he had given me attention. Just a bit of attention and my stupid mind gets intoxicated with it. Drunk.

But I had to know better. I knew better. I knew that nothing good could come out of that so I ran away like the coward I am.

_____

If I was already confused before he showed up, after that encounter I was a total mess. And the only way I had to calm down that kind of a mess, to overcome such a shitty, stressful day, was with alcohol. Something that could give me a fucking break from my own mind for a few hours. So once my shift ended, I joined Sienna, another intern, to go together to the bar near Edenbrook.

I could've gone alone, or bought something at a liquor store to drink it alone in my room, but I had promised Sienna I would join her as payback for saving my skin from Dr. Ramsey that afternoon. And I liked her. She seemed genuinely nice among a hospital full of fake and selfish people. Besides, you cannot not trust a person who calls themselves a dolphin, right?

When we got to the bar, packed to the brim with people from the hospital, she led me to a booth where there were other fellow interns she had congregated during the day: Jackie Varma, Landry Olsen, and Elijah Greene. A very diverse group of people.

Elijah was a nerd who couldn’t stop throwing Harry Potter jokes at me since he found out I was renting a room under the stairs of a building, and he was really, really nice, so I couldn't even get mad at him for that.

Jackie was… tough. Competitive to a fault, but she was funny and always had some witty remarks to everyone who talked to her, so that helped me swallow her the rest of the night.

And Landry… Ooof, Landry was… Unreadable. There was something about him that I didn't like. And not precisely his lack of people skills, because, who am I to judge, but he had this air of sufficiency I couldn't stand. Something treacherous. I'd always had this sense with people, and I could sense from the start that I'd never liked him, so I just tried to hang out the less I could with him, and focused on getting to know Sienna and Elijah, the people I found more things in common with.

A couple hours later, tipsy and with all my problems momentarily suspended in midair, I reached the bar for the next round of tequilas for the group.

I had just made my order when I felt a bump in my arm, startling me.

“Hey.”

I turned around and a pair of honey eyes were looking curiously at me.

Holy fuck, not you again.

“Hey, ” I replied, looking at him for a millisecond before fixing my eyes on the dozens of bottles of alcohol in front of me, begging he would just go and leave me alone.

“Are you doing better?”

My eyes widened.

Oh no, is he really? No, please no. Don’t.

But the alcohol had made its effect by now. I could lie blatantly at him without feeling that stupid necessity of telling him the truth. Although it wouldn't be a lie because I was doing better thanks to the tequilas.

“I..., Yeah. I’m… I’m doing better now.”

Hearing my own words, I realized I had just snitched myself.

Stupid, stupid idiot. I should’ve just ignored him.

Saying I was doing better implied I wasn't good before, and I didn't want to recognize that in front of him. I didn't want to give him any permission to pry, more than he had already done.

Too late.

“That’s great, Luna, I’m glad,” he said, heartily.

Sincerely.

Why the fuck everything he says seem so sincere to me?

I turned to him to look for some kind of smirk or smugness, something that could tell me that he was amused by what had happened that afternoon, or a hint of "I gotcha" in his gaze, but he was just looking at me earnestly. With a soft, warm smile and eyes beaming with candor.

It was kind of intriguing that someone like him could look like that. Or maybe he was just a good actor.

Feeling bold because of the alcohol I had in my bloodstream, I dared to turn to him and scan him carefully, realizing details I wasn't able to get when I first met him that morning.

It was like I had only been able to get brushstrokes of him or just certain sensations about him: his warm smile, his vivid golden eyes, his imposing yet stunning beauty, but not so much about details.

Details such as the shape of his eyes -delicate monolid traces around amber and honey hues-, crowned with meticulously groomed eyebrows. His lips, generous and soft; his caramel skin, tanned, his face with sculpted cheekbones and jaw, and impossibly smooth skin. His nose, straight but slightly crooked at the bridge.

After a few moments, he arched an eyebrow, “Yes?”

And his hair -with soft golden streaks- styled in a perfect mess to one side, falling casually over his temple when he leaned one arm onto the bar, breaking the height distance between the both of us. Because he was tall. Or maybe not that tall, but everyone in this damn country was too tall to me. With my 5’2 I was a dwarf to anyone and everyone was a giant to me, so that pose let me inspect him even more carefully.

After seeing all that, there's no wonder why he was so damn handsome.

Just then I realized he was looking expectantly at me, as if I was looking at him to say something.

Oh, no, not again. Eres una vergüenza, Matilde. (You’re an embarrassment, Matilde).

“I…”

What does this human being have that always leaves me speechless?

He chuckled, his eyes wrinkling in amusement, “You’re something else, Luna.”

I blushed. Maybe even more than I already was.

What's that supposed to mean?

Without expecting any reply from me, maybe because he knew I couldn't come up with anything, he added, “Wanna go play darts with me?”

My stomach churned instantly, anxiety metabolizing to the speed of light as I imagined what that entailed.

“N-No, thanks. I don’t play darts. I suck and I don’t pretend to humiliate myself in front of the whole Edenbrook on my first night here.”

Bryce clicked his tongue, “Doesn't matter, I can teach you if you want.”

I wanted to say yes, I really did. Like always in other things. I wanna say yes, but a part of me stops me. The fear of embarrassing myself in front of everybody, of being so dumb people will realize I have no fix, or of feel so nervous that I will ruin everything.

And his sincere smile was telling me he really wanted to teach me and he was hoping I'd say yes, like a puppy waiting for his human to take him for a walk. But, ah, once again. I couldn't.

“I appreciate the offer, but this time I pass.”

“Just this time,” he stressed, pointing a finger to me playfully.

I shook my head, giggling, “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see,” he defied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Five tequilas ready!” a deep masculine voice announced at the other side of the bar.

I turned around, startled, and I found a tray with five shots of tequilas in front of me, “Thanks!” I looked back at Bryce, “Well, I… I have to go.”

“Need any help?”

“Nah, don’t worry,” I shrugged and took the tray with naturality.

“Ah, you know your stuff,” he pointed with an approving smirk.

I arched an eyebrow, kind of baffled by his implicit skepticism, “Do you?”

“I know a cowboy when I see one,” he winked at me.

It took me a moment to catch his drift.

“Oh.”

I nodded, kind of shocked by that revelation. I had imagined he aced Med School with no worries, using daddy’s credit card and all the commodities frat boys like him have. I would’ve never guessed he had to work his way here, just like me.

“Have a good night, Luna.”

“You too, Lahela. See ya.”

He smiled confidently, knowingly, “See ya.”

----

Thank you so much for reading!!!

[princip1914]

A few thoughts on writing longfic

I’ve had this post brewing for a while and I figured since today is a Friday I might as well let it out into the wild. 

First off, this is not writing advice. I don’t feel qualified to give writing advice. This is a few observations I’ve made over the course of trying to write something that feels, well, long. Fandom is full of excellent authors writing long chaptered fic, but I don’t see a lot of people talking about how they go about producing such fics. I remember feeling like long fic was really out of reach for me when I started writing again in the summer of 2019 after not writing for years and years and I wanted to talk a bit about how that changed for me. Of course, this post comes with all the caveats that there is no need to ever write long fic if you’re not feeling it. Some of my favorite authors write mostly or only oneshots! But, if you are interested, here’s my lengthy, self indulgent, and entirely personal take on ~the longfic process~ below the cut. 

First, to get this out of the way: long fic is anything that feels long or complicated to you, the author. “I’m working on my long fic” can mean that you’re branching out from microfiction to write something that’s 2k long, or it can mean you’ve got a multi-part 800k epic. There’s no objective measure of if something is “long fic,” Your own personal definitions can also change as you grow in confidence or change your focus as a writer (a little over a year ago when I finished Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire topping out at 31k, that felt very very long to me. Now it feels….still long, but not very very long.) 

Here are a few specific things that helped me write something long. I don’t know if they will be interesting for anyone else, but at the very least writing these down has been a fun way for me to reflect on my own process. 

Practice exercises. Ok, this is going to sound exceedingly obvious, but writing one shots prepares you for writing chaptered fic. Here’s what I mean more specifically: if you know you want to write (as a totally hypothetical example) a chaptered fic set in America in the summer that relies heavily on a nature metaphors, is written out of chronological order, and features a melancholy tone--it helps to write a few one shots like that before you embark on the Big Fic. Just like artists tend to do sketches before starting a big piece, it’s very helpful to write something small that gives you a feel for the ~vibe~ of what you’re trying to do in the long fic. It’s helpful for all the usual reasons--you get to know a specific version of the characters which helps plan out a character driven plot for the long fic--but it’s also helpful because you will learn if the tone and mood of the fic has enough staying power to capture your interest for the long haul. For instance, I have a few unfinished chaptered fics that have a humorous tone. I wish I had done more short humorous fics before starting them, because I would have realized that I don’t currently have the mental stamina to hold up a humorous tone for the length of a chaptered fic (hopefully that will change and I will finish Last Days some time this century!). 

Plan it out ahead of time. I used google sheets for The False and the Fair. I do not think God intended google sheets to be used for fiction, but that was not going to stop me. On a more serious note, I think the best tool for planning fiction is the one you’re the most comfortable with--the notes app in your phone, handwriting, word, google drive, sheets, chalk board, summoning circle, the blood of your enemies, etc. The reason I chose to use sheets is that I knew from the very beginning that I wanted certain things to happen at specific places in the story--for instance, I wanted the first kiss to happen at the end of the first third of the story and I wanted the “reveal” about the mine accident to happen at the end of the second third of the story. But, I didn’t know what was supposed to go in between those elements. A traditional outline for a story at this point in development might have looked like: 

Meet cute

Kiss

Reveal 

Ending 

But, what my brain needed was to preserve the blank spaces in between these story elements, and specifically to preserve the right amount of blank space between these story elements so that it didn’t end up, for instance, that the first kiss was halfway through rather than a third of the way through. In this way, I found google sheets an invaluable tool for pacing in the early parts of the planning process. I simply made 30 rows assuming 30 chapters, and started plugging in the elements I knew I wanted in the locations I wanted them. Then I filled in the blank spaces by asking myself “how do we get from X plot element to Y plot element in Z amount of chapters.” I’m not a mountain climber, but I’ve often thought about the first things that go into the spreadsheet in terms of mountain climbing terminology.  In climbing, a crux move, which can be anywhere along the route, is the most difficult move of the route: if you can’t do it, you can’t do the route. I think of the first things that go into the planning spreadsheet as the crux moves of the story, the most important pieces around which everything else turns. It was not an accident that those were also all the first scenes of the fic that I wrote; if I couldn’t do those scenes, I couldn’t do the story the way I planned it so I wanted to know early on if I needed to make changes.

Make changes if you have to: even though it helps to have things planned in advance, don’t resist the story if it tries to change on you while you’re writing it. Usually the feeling that you have to make changes stems from having a plot that is not entirely character driven. As you write the story, the characters reveal themselves and sometimes the plot has to change to change with the characters’ motivations. Here’s an area where fanfic writers have a leg up on everyone else: if you write fic, you already know the characters really well. That means, (in my experience anyway) it’s less likely that you’ll have a surprise character development which leads to a rethinking of the whole plot. Less likely, but not completely unlikely, unfortunately.

Lie to yourself: The False and the Fair was supposed to be 90k words. I thought that sounded reasonable, a little less than 3x the longest fic I had ever written. Now it's 161k and will probably top out a little over 170k. Ooops. But I never would have set out to write something that long. I wouldn’t have thought I could do it, even though anyone more experienced looking at my plans for the fic probably would have laughed at the idea I could cover all those plot points in 90k. Ignorance is bliss. Protect your ignorance.

Scrivener: Long fic for me means “fic that is long enough you can’t hold all the parts of it in your head at once.” That’s where Scrivener comes in (or another app if you’d rather, but I really like Scrivener for the ability to see the project either linearly or as condensed notecards). You can put together an organizational scaffold in Scrivener that allows you to move back and forth between the forest and the trees. So, for instance, you might be going for a jog and come up with the perfect line of dialogue for chapter 27 when you’re only up to chapter 5 in terms of writing progress. With Scrivener, you can go home, and put that dialogue in the “bucket”/index card/whatever for chapter 27 without compromising your ability to see chapter 5 clearly or muddying up your google doc. You can then use the fact that you’ve started writing bits and pieces of the later chapters in conjunction with the tool of lying to yourself that, actually, you’ve written a lot more of the fic than you realize and that when you get to chapter 27 it won’t be as hard as chapter 5 because you’ve put in the groundwork already. In my experience, this lie turns out to be true about 50% of the time, which is better than 0% of the time.

Digestible mini arcs: The False and the Fair was originally broken up into thirds. I thought it would be 90k and 30k was the longest I had written, so thirds seemed to make sense. Also, 3 is a nice, time honored storytelling number. I think it’s good to give yourself seemingly achievable milestones along the way to completion. These milestones (for me anyway) lined up well with the “crux moments” I’ve described. If you’re someone who likes to write out of order, writing your way to an already written milestone can feel like sailing to an island where you get to rest for a bit from the stormy seas before setting out for the next island in the archipelago.

“It's all part of the process”: I’m categorically incapable of describing things without resorting to running metaphors, and so I apologize in advance, but I am now going to do the insufferable thing of comparing writing a long fic to running a marathon. Here’s the thing with a marathon. You are not going to feel good every step of the way. We all know this. It’s a marathon, it’s supposed to hurt a little bit, especially at the end. In the same way you literally cannot write something novel length or even novella or long short story length without, at least at some point, feeling bad about yourself and your writing. But you also can’t run a marathon if the whole thing is agony, and for most people, it’s not--your meat sack shuffling along the course is subjected to the slings and arrows of all sorts of weird body chemistry that only happens when you push it to its limits. So, you’ll be in agony and then the endorphins will kick in for a while and you’ll be thinking “this isn’t nearly as bad as everyone said,” and then you’ll drink some water at a rest stop and feel like a God for half a mile before you crash and you’re in agony again until that one perfect song comes up on the playlist...and you get the idea. Writing something long, for me at least, is a bit like that. There are massive ups and downs. The key for me is to just understand it’s all part of the process, a necessary step on the way to the finish line. If the fic is 10 chapters long, at some point you have to write chapter 5. Just like you have to write chapter 5, at some point you also have to go through a bit of despair before reaching the end. It is unfortunately non-optional. In fact, despairing is something you can check off your list each time you’ve done it. Cut dialogue tags, check. Feel awful about my writing for thirty minutes, check. Write ending section, check. Often I feel that the stress and shame and fear that come with bad emotions while writing are worse than the bad emotions themselves. It really helps me to remember these emotions are all part of the process and nothing to worry about. If I didn’t have them, then I would worry! 

I certainly have plenty more to say about writing, but this ramble has gone on long enough. If you’re interested in any of this stuff, please feel free to send me an ask. 

I would also love to know more about everyone else’s writing processes, so feel free to pop into my ask box to talk about your own approach too! I am very interested in this stuff! 

[crazedtmnt]

How would our turtles react to an S/O who had really long hair but decided to cut it short into a pixie cut but didn't tell them ahead of time (I just recently got a pixie cut and it makes me so happy!)

A/N: Ahhh! Sorry for taking so long. For some reason, Donnie’s headcanon gave me a lot of trouble. I kept getting stuck (and admittedly, my mood has prevented me from wanting to write much).

But anyway, here it is! Thanks so much for the request. I have a few other requests that I’m working on, I swear. Life has just been really... odd. But you’re never bothering me by sending in requests. I’m also happy to see what people want.

This is mostly gender neutral, though the language is a little feminine. Hopefully that doesn’t bother anyone.

[y/n] = your name

~~~~~

Suddenly Short Hair (TMNT X Reader)

Leo:

“Well, who is this beautiful stranger?”

Leo would smirk at the new cut once he saw you again. It took him no time at all to recognize you, but it was still quite the transformation. And you hadn’t said a word about it. How dare you not tell your boyfriend that you were changing your hair so drastically! Now it was way too cute. He had to punish you a little.

“I don’t know how you got to the lair,” he said smoothly, feigning ignorance, “but I should probably direct you out. My father doesn’t like strangers in the house.”

You rolled your eyes. “Leo, you know it’s me, [y/n].”

“Oh, no.” Leo clicked his tongue derisively, shaking his head. “There’s no way you’re [y/n]. They look a lot shaggier – kinda like a monkey.”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

Laughing, Leo pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead. “I’d like to see you try, love.”

As he kissed your face, his hands took the time to run through your short locks. It was so cute how they framed your face even better now. And they were so soft. He may have liked your longer hair, but this was a nice change of pace too. Expect him to bury his face in your hair a few times, just to take in your scent (and to smell that amazing hair salon shampoo).

After a few minutes admiring it, Leo would bring your face to his and whisper, “You’re so beautiful, [y/n]. No matter how long your hair is.”

“Even if I’m bald?” you ask teasingly.

“Even then.”

You hummed, running a hand down his smooth head. “Good. I guess I could say the same for you. You are a very handsome, bald man.”

Snorting, Leo kissed you on your nose before flashing a devilish grin. “Watch yourself. Your hair may be shorter, but I can still get a grip on it…”

 ~~~~~

Raph:

“What the—? What happened to you?”

Raph knows what haircuts are. He’s seen April get them a few times. But when’s the last time he’s seen someone with extra-long hair cut it all the way into a pixie cut? Probably never.

It’s such a radical change; his first instinct is to assume the worst.

“Did you get gum stuck in your hair or something, Rapunzel? Did someone cut it on purpose?” he asked, running over to hold your face – oh yeah, he liked calling you Rapunzel because of your long hair that no longer existed.

You giggled, watching his eyes look on in worry as his fingers brushed your cheeks. “No, I just got a haircut. It’s nothing crazy.”

“Cutting a few inches is nothing crazy. This is… You’re like a whole new person.”

Biting your lip, you lowered your head. “Does it look bad?”

Raph’s eyes widened. He threw his hands up and started shaking them furiously. “No no no no! It looks good! It’s just kinda weird – ah, that’s not much better… Um, it looks different, but in a good way! Not bad at all!”

As he fumbled with his words, you laughed and shook your head. “It’s fine, babe. I wanted something different. I like the way this looks. And I mean, have you ever tried taking care of long hair? How many hours it can take just to make it look decent?”

“No, and I’m not interested in the least,” he answered, giving you that sexy smile.

Raph chuckled to himself as he ruffled your pixie cut. He’d never admit it so as to not upset you, but he was kinda glad you cut your hair. Cuddling with you had a 50/50 shot of him breathing in more hair than oxygen, especially if you two fell asleep.

“I guess I can’t call you Rapunzel anymore, can I?”

“I mean, not unless you’re thinking of Tangled’s Rapunzel.”

Raising an eyebrow, Raph ran a hand down your hair slowly. “That works. She’s almost as beautiful as you.”

 ~~~~~

Donnie:

“Uh, [y/n]? Is that you?”

What happened? You were gone only a couple of hours. How could someone change so drastically in one day?

Donnie stared slack-jawed at your hair. He was incredibly observant of things around him, including people. So, he often categorized stuff in his head, and you were always in the “long hair” category. As soon as he saw sweeping locks, Donnie would feel his chest flutter and fill with warmth, knowing instinctively that his amazing lover was coming to see him. Now, he needed to reset all the presets in his brain. Oh boy.

Grinning, you stood in the doorway of his lab, watching the bar slowly load inside Donnie’s head as he processed everything. He always kept things in their place, never letting any change slip passed his notice. So, of course, you kept your mouth shut about the haircut. Seeing him completely stumble over your transformation was perfect. How else were you supposed to pull one over your genius boyfriend?

“Is something wrong, Donnie-boy?” you teased.

That managed to bring him to his sense. “Oh, no! Nothing’s wrong! Your hair’s just… uh, it’s very… wow! Short hair!”

“Indeed. How eloquent of you.”

Shaking his head, Donnie finally broke out into a smile. “You know what I mean.” He walked over, leaning down for a kiss. Your lips were so soft against his, he couldn’t get enough.

“They almost match how soft your hair is now,” Donnie thought as his hand held the back of your head.

Pulling away, Donnie rubbed his nose against yours. “Really though. I love your hair, no matter what you do with it.”

“Good to know,” you said, moving up for another kiss.

“But maybe next time…” he cut in, leaning away before you could meet his lips.

“Hmm?”

“Next time, tell me when you’re getting a haircut, please?”

Smirking, you winked at him before grabbing his face and crashing it into yours. The kiss left Donnie breathless. Your hair might have changed, but your passion certainly hadn’t.

Once you were finished, you looked up at your boyfriend with mischievous eyes. “No. I don’t think I will.”

 ~~~~~

Mikey:

“[Y/n]? When did you decide to look this amazing?”

Mikey was surprised—after all you told him nothing about a haircut—but he brushed it off pretty quickly. I mean, look at you! He couldn’t get enough of your cute face and body, no matter what you wore. The shape and length of your hair was no exception.

Grinning ear to ear, he put down the comic in his hand and walked towards you, eyes sparkling in excitement. “How is it you got even cuter just from cutting your hair?”

“Do you like it?” you asked, taking his hands in yours.

“I love it! I wish I had hair! We could style it to match each other.”

You both laughed as Mikey leaned in towards you. A few kisses on your cheeks never hurt, right? In fact, Mikey decided to play it safe… and kiss every inch of your face. Once you were a giggling mess, he picked you up in his strong arms and carried you over to the couch so he could better admire your new look.

With you head leaning against his plastron, Mikey ran his hands through your hair. It was so soft and short! Just as he started to feel it between his fingers, suddenly it was gone, already fallen back onto your head. Mikey was in awe. He thought he couldn’t adore you any more than he already did, but each day you managed to push the limit.

He couldn’t lie. He’d miss your long hair a little. He loved sniffing it, feeling it, twirling it… tugging it—you name it. But he’d never deny you what you wanted, especially if it concerned your own body. Plus, this made way for tons of new possibilities. You could more with short hair than some people believed.

“Beautiful…” Mikey hummed in satisfaction and kissed your head. “You’re absolutely beautiful, angel cakes.”

You blushed, rubbing your face against him. “Thank you. You’re pretty handsome yourself, Mikey.”

“I’d be even more handsome if I had hair like yours.”

Shaking your head, you sat up and met his eyes, holding his cheeks in your hands. “I wouldn’t say that. You’re plenty handsome as it is. I like the way you look.” You smile and kiss his forehead, taking his mask tails into your hands. “Besides, your mask is kinda like your hair.”

You expected him to laugh or roll his eyes. Instead, his expression brightened.

“Maybe you could style it for me, then. I bet I could pull off having it in a bow!”

You laughed. “I have no doubt. You can pull off any look, Mikey.”

[leahseclipse]

Detention time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: They're high school students, Reader gets a detention and Dean, not wanting to be alone, joins them.

Warnings: Some insults, but nothing bad. Just two baddies idiots fooling around in school.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: My very first spn fic,,, I'm really excited about this!!!!! Although, a person with whom I talk of spn, would be surprised that my first fic isn't with Sam as he's my fav 😂, don't get me wrong, I love Dean too, but Sam- 👁️v👁️

"y/l/n, detention." A male voice announced which had basically become the anthem of the class considering how many times it was told, to her, or even, by the other troublemaker of the class, known as: Dean Winchester.

They both were called the detention duo, whether they'd have detention the same day or not, they'd always somehow have one in the same week.

But that day, only y/n had gotten one. The reason? Calling the teacher a moron, incompetent -and a bitch-, but she didn't hear it.

She'd probably have a nice trip to the principal, along with a possible one week exclusion.

She was...well known for her original words that would definitely be followed by a detention as soon as it was told.

Let's say that...she had her own behaviour that would make her ‘unique’.

This could kind of be seen as a show to the class, mostly from y/n's side, as all the teacher could say was a bit of complaining, and the famous sentences well known, to annouce the detention.

It was definitely funnier when coming from the teacher y/n just called a moron.

For Dean, it'd depend.

Sometimes it would be because he had called them a pussy, or just because the teacher had decided that he had annoyed them too much for its liking.

He'd even have the talent of getting detention when he was out of class. 

So, thinking it'd be fun to bring back the detention duo, Dean decided to add his own spice to the party, doing it with another one, who hated him as much he hated y/n. 

Dean would usually annoy him on purpose, but that time he just did it without realizing it, it had basically become a habit that he wouldn't even think of doing it, he'd already be doing it.

Not really any of the class could have predicted it, even if it hadn't become surprising coming from him at some point.

The hour had almost gone by calmly, and just a few minutes before the end were left.

But when Dean's remarks, and the lack of these because he wasn't doing anything was enough to the teacher, soon the whole class knew what was coming.

And, as if Dean hadn't fallen deep enough, he finished his answer with 'bitch'.

The final touch.

"Winchester, since I guess that you seem to have free time, and have disrespectful behavior, you'll be joining Saturday's detention, with a small trip to the principal beforehand?"

"Sounds good."

Result; both found themselves on a Saturday, each sitting at a spot across the room, not really knowing what to do. 

As much as they were known as a duo, and possibly friends, y/n didn't like him a lot. 

She was...kinda friend with his brother, Sam, but never really talked with Dean, even if they’d both been in detention quite a few times.

But Dean, just…being Dean, actually wanted them to be friends. He had tried multiple times to, somehow, have a chat that would last longer than one minute, which failed until now.

Today might be a good shot, and he's gonna try again, even if she might not be open to it.

Detention were a loss of time, they'd give either give you a stupid paper -which, by the way, wasn't even checked-, so whether you'd do it or not, they didn't care. 

Or, in this case, they'd just have someone watch over you, they would have a glance, go out for a bit, come back later, or literally at the end of the detention…which could be the case right now.

They had left god knows where, leaving the "detention duo" to themselves, which didn't change much.

Whether the guy watching them was here or not, the room was so silent that you could hear a door opening from across the hall, even the first floor.

“You’re still going to be on silent mode, as usual?” Dean asked, glancing at the girl. “You could at least say hi, be polite, you know?”

“Fuck off Winchester.”

“I said polite, not asshole mode.”

“Since when am I supposed to talk nice to you as if we were pals?”

“You don’t necessarily have to be friends with someone to be nice, it’s just basics.”

“Well, I don’t really give a fuck about your basics. What about that?”

“Woah, chill. I was just trying to be nice, which you aren’t.” He muttered.

“Oh, because you’re nice? Aren’t you sitting in detention with me right now for calling the teacher a bitch?”

“He deserved it, and you kind of did the same thing as me, let me remind you of that.”

“He also deserved it, but, did I deserve to be annoyed by you though?”

“No, but my plan was totally different, I didn’t want to annoy you, on the contrary.”

“Hm, it seemed like it to me.”

“It’s just you seeing things that way instead of what they really are.”

“Oh really? You’re kidding, right Winchester?”

“Why would I be?”

“You’re always here, saying shit, that at some point it’s kind of complicated to know if you’re being serious or not.”

“I hate to admit that, but you’re...right, but just in a way, not completely. I can be serious if asked to.”

“Oh, because you can be? I never found you serious once.”

“Are you saying that I’m a fool?”

“I never said that, you just assumed it yourself right now.” She spat.

“No, I was just trying to guess what you meant when you said that you didn’t find me serious, that is all.”

“Oh, you should have told me. I thought you were trying to ask me how I was seeing you, and I just told it."

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can be...quite indirect sometimes? No?”

“I’m just pointing out the truth, what I think. What’s wrong with that?”

“What is wrong, is that it’s not necessarily what people want to hear from you, especially when they’re being nice, like with me.”

“I didn’t notice you were trying to be nice, you’re such an ass with teachers and some nerds that I didn’t even think there was an ounce of sweetness in your head.”

Touché. 

“Well uh...people can be...nice, just because they’re, not really nice to some, and can seem...a bit intimidating, it doesn’t mean they can’t be nice to others.” Dean blurted out, desperately trying to find arguments.

“You’re a dick Winchester, face it.”

“I wouldn’t go that far to the point of being categorized as a dick, but okay, I can be...mean.”

“You forgot one adjective.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You sure?”

“...annoying.”

“There ‘ya go.”

“Is there anything else to add to the list of defaults you’ve noticed about me, or are you done?”

“Unless you want a four page long essay, I’m done...for now, at least.” Y/N said, tapping her pencil against the table. “Why? Do you want more? I can keep going, I have one week free.”

“No, I’m uh...I’m good.”

“Hm. I got nothing to talk about then, too bad.”

“There's a lot of stuff to say other than me.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know. What we like, what we hate about these teachers, or even random stuff we have. I know you like to talk about me, but we can switch the subject.”

“Me, liking to talk about you? You’re kidding. You just annoyed me, and I responded to you.”

“You seem quite enthusiastic and well informed.”

“No, I was not.”

“If you say so.”

“There’s no ‘if you say so’, as I said, I was just splitting out facts.”

“...that, again, seemed to be interesting enough for you to waste five minutes.”

“I regret answering you in the first place now.”

“No, you don’t. You love talking with me, I know you do. You should feel honored to have Dean Winchester talking to you, I don’t do that with many people.”

“Honored what? You’re not a star, you’re just the school’s brat.”

“You’re not as innocent as I am, I could call you a brat too, but I’m staying polite.”

“Oh, because you were being polite? I didn’t notice, you should have told me, I would have tried to take things differently.”

“I’m being polite, since the beginning of the conversation. You just didn’t notice, as you said.”

“Okay, you were a bit more polite than usual.”

“That’s a great compliment, coming from you.”

“Probably the only one you’ll receive.”

“The only one? You sure? I’m kind of...handsome. So, you should have some things to tell.”

“Am I supposed to see it as a joke or not?”

“...it wasn’t a joke.”

“I thought it was, because you're mostly an ass to me, not a handsome guy.”

“I know you don’t make jokes usually, but I think it’s one, no? Come on, you can’t say I’m not as handsome as all of these actors you see at TV and all.”

“What am I supposed to say in that?”

“That you find me nice, and all, you know. I know you got lots of things to say.”

“No, and even if I did, why would you deserve to hear them?”

“Because it’s...about me? You had a lot of...not really nice stuff, so it shouldn’t be a problem to say the opposite, if you happened to think that way.”

“Do I look like I want to waste the week I have to say that?”

“Maybe.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“Come on, I’m not asking for a whole week, just like...a few days?”

“That’s even worse.”

“Okay, one day.”

“Less worse, but not better.”

“You don’t even have one day to spare for your favorite classmate? I’m charming, funny, nice...sometimes, I’m cool to hang out with, I got a nice brother, and plus, as we’re both Winchesters, it’s even funnier. I’ll pull him out of his books and drag him outside.”

“If I do agree, do I get to drag him outside too? I have to warn him though, I won’t be delicate.”

“You get to drag him outside, I’ll even let you do it, from start to end.”

“Then, I guess I can spare some time out of the free week I have.”

“Yeah, we don’t give a single fuck about the assignments.”

“Sam will help us on the last day.”

“True, we can threaten him too.”

“For once, you have good ideas.” She pointed out.

“What can I say? I’m a Winchester, so that’s pretty logical for me to be talented, creative and smart.”

“I said that you have good ideas, that’s all. I didn’t ask for you to brag about yourself.”

“You tempted me, and...by the way, since we’ll be stuck together for a week, might as well become less formal?”

“You mean...with our names? Me calling you Dean, and you calling me y/n?”

“That’ll be a great start.”

“It’s a bit weird though. I’ve always been calling you Winchester, it’s weird to call you Dean all of a sudden.”

“See it as a small privilege, not that many people get that chance.”

“Do any other people get the chance of getting annoyed by you?”

“I’m not annoying, just like to chat a lot. Come on, y/n, it’s not that hard to call me by my name, you gotta get used to it to preserve your privilege.”

“You’re lucky that the only knives we have here are plastic ones, and totally harmless. I would have already stabbed you by now.”

“You’ll be way too sad without me here.”

“Not at all Dean.”

“I doubt so, y/n.”

“I’ll have Sam with me to replace you.”

“Nah, not even Sam can. I’m Dean Winchester, no one can replace me.”

“I spent a lot of time with Sam, and it was as nice as when I’m with you.”

“You mean, book talk? That’s not what I call fun.”

“It’s more interesting.”

“It’s boring.” Dean said.

“Boring is what I say when I happen to be with you, which is right now.”

“Nah, you had fun.”

“Yeah, 1%.”

“I’m sure it’s a bit more than that, we've been here for one hour already.”

“Okay, 1,000001%. Is that better?”

“Not really.”

“I was being nice by adding all of these zeros.”

“It made it just a bit worse. It should have been 50% at least.”

“50% is a bit too much, would have given 20% maximum.”

“I guess it’s better than 1%.”

“I’m being generous, I gave 19% more.”

“I better get a piece of paper to remember it, it’s quite rare coming from you, I’m honored.”

“Watch out, I might get back on my decision to waste my precious time with you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going to be extra nice.”

“I’ll make sure to have my phone and record it, I might not believe it when I’ll happen to think about it a bit later.”

“I said that I was going to be nice, that applies for you too.”

“Fine, Dean.”

“See, it took one hour for us to get along, and for once, it wasn’t a bad detention. You even ended up calling me Dean.”

“If you say so, and yeah, it was better than usual. We should try to get another, but outside of the class, like being late three times when we get back next week, and maybe add something to not just get detention.”

“Yeah, ‘could be nice. Our parents are going to be pretty pissed off at that.”

“To be honest, did we ever care about that?”

“Not once, as long as I can recall.”

“Exactly.”

“It might get us kicked out at some point.”

“I never liked studying anyway, I won’t mind getting out of here.” She admitted.

“Who likes that?”

“Sam.”

“Oh, he’s always been a nerd. But, a nice one, and not really annoying.” 

“Yeah, he’s kind of like us, but...a bit more strict. Bet 10 dollars he’s going to lecture us.”

“Bet.” Dean answered.

“Okay deal. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“They’re going to annoy us for that.”

“They said we’re out for a week, we’re just leaving early.”

“I guess it’s okay then.”

“Hell yeah it is. We have one week to waste ahead of us.”

“I’ve never enjoyed an exclusion that much before.”

“That’s normal, I wasn’t there to make it fun. Now we’ll spend these together, it’ll be a nice one instead of a useless one.”

“Let’s get to it then.” Dean announced, as he crossed the door after her, sneaking out to walk in the direction of the hallway.

Guess that detention wasn’t that bad after all.

*

[perfeggso]

every fortress falls (AKIRA x NCT)

Please enjoy this anime-kpop crossover for the Lights, Camera, Fanfiction event hosted by @supermwritersnet​! I chose to write for Shotaro and one of my favorite fictional universes ever, Akira’s Neo-Tokyo. If you know Akira, my story will run parallel to the canon plot. If not, I hope you give this a try and enjoy anyway and I highly recommend the source material! <3

If you’re interested, here is my AKIRA playlist. 

Setting of Akira: It has been thirty years since the end of WWIII, begun due to the detonation of an unidentified superweapon known only as “Akira” over Tokyo. The incident and subsequent war decimated the city which was rebuilt into Neo-Tokyo, a corrupt and crime-ridden megalopolis centered on an artificial island in Tokyo Bay.

Characters: Shotaro, Sungchan, Yuta, Akira main characters, other NCT members upcoming. 

Genres: cyberpunk, sci-fi, action/adventure 

Warnings: drug use/abuse, gangs, some swearing, eventual graphic violence

Rating: mature but not explicit 

Chapter length: 1.3k

Chapter 1:

The capsule cradled in Shotaro’s palm is red and white and shiny, like the earrings that Noriko would wear and which, when Shotaro asked, he found out were supposed to look like “blood and come,” respectively. The drone of Tanaka-Sensei’s voice from the front of the classroom barely penetrates the cloak of sullen disruption shielding Shotaro’s wooden amphitheater seat in classroom 12 of the Eighth District Vocational Training School. Even though realistically no one is paying attention, Shotaro tries to hold the pill so that his hand is obscured by his row’s shared desk. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous; Tanaka-Sensei is barely commanding control of the room as he attempts to explain how a carburetor works, the closest kid to Shotaro is reading a girly magazine, and everyone at the school is well aware that you can buy as many of these pills as any broke student could afford from the nurse’s office.

It’s just, Shotaro reasons as the patent-leather-like curves of the capsule glint in the jaundiced combination of natural and fluorescent light, he’s always been a good kid. He doesn’t do things like this – at least that’s what Yuta constantly tells him. He doesn’t buy drugs – no matter how cheap they are – from Kaneda’s girlfriend of all people, and he certainly doesn’t take them. Kaneda, Shotaro has always felt, is inextricably linked to him. For one, Shotaro Kaneda’s family name is the same as Shotaro’s given name (though they use slightly different kanji if anyone ever cared to notice). For another thing, the two boys have known of each other since early childhood, having come up in the same orphanage and school system for boys deemed by the state to be “lacking in future prospects.” (Shotaro doesn’t think this label really applies to him; it’s not his fault he doesn’t really like academics and the one activity he really enjoys – dancing – is far too expensive for him to pursue). For a final, crucial thing, Kaneda is the leader of the Capsules, the rival gang to Yuta’s Clowns. The fact that Kaneda could very literally kill Shotaro’s adoptive brother of sorts any day now understandably precludes him from feeling much of an affinity towards his classmate.

Shotaro has been taunted more times than he can remember for being the “boring” Shotaro. But if skating by under the radar to receive his vocational high school diploma, getting out, and not being sent to Jaws for discipline twice a week is boring to his classmates, Shotaro doesn’t really care.

Well, he didn’t care, until he had gotten to thinking one day last week. It started when he’d found Yuta’s stash of drugs. Yuta tries very hard to keep any evidence of his dependency from his little brother, but he’s not always great at it. Over the years, Shotaro couldn’t help but notice the blissful calm which comes over Yuta when Shotaro has caught him thinking he was taking the stuff in private. Nor could Shotaro help but register the ensuing boost in energy and motivation. It had always made him wonder even if Yuta categorically forbid it and he was good at smothering his curiosity. When Shotaro came to school the next day and mentioned finding Yuta’s pills offhand to Sungchan, the younger boy proved less adept at quashing his hunger for new experiences, and Shotaro had begun to truly let his imagination get the best of him.

“Hey!” The harsh whisper startles Shotaro out of his preoccupation with the look and feel of his capsule, to the extent that he almost blunders and drops it down the five graduated rows of seats below him. But fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, he holds on.

The voice is as familiar as the backseat of Yuta’s motorcycle and coming from the level of seats behind Shotaro, so he turns around. Class has devolved to the point that having a full conversation stage-whisper style is about the least disruptive thing occurring.

Sungchan’s oversized frame and comforting smile loom over Shotaro from above, like a benevolent version of the mechanical surveillance vultures Sungchan had once gushed in horror that the American government was trying to build.

“Did I scare you?” Sungchan asks.

Shotaro fakes a glare at his best friend, but only ends up chuckling.

“How could I be scared by a 185cm walking teddy-bear?”

Sungchan tries to look hurt but giggles right back.

“Did you get the stuff?”

Shotaro nods, angling his hand so Sungchan can see the pill.

“Why were you so late to class?” Shotaro asks, feeling irrational panic nipping at the edges of his mind for the first time all day to suggest that maybe Sungchan was held up because someone caught him with drugs. Shotaro wonders why this thought hadn’t occurred to him earlier, hoping that’s an indication of its ridiculousness.

“I got caught up talking to Sawako in the nurse’s office,” Sungchan explains, and Shotaro relaxes a little. “She was very chatty for some reason and I felt bad. I think she’s lonely. Did you know Kaneda got her pregnant?”

“No, what?” Shotaro makes a face as disapproving as he feels. “That asshole. Of course he wouldn’t use protection. Ugh, anyway. Did you get what you wanted? Everything go smoothly?”

Sungchan pulls a button-size plastic bag from his pocket and displays, not quite covertly enough for Shotaro’s liking but he’ll live, the identical red and white capsule within.

“Perfect.”

“I was thinking,” Sungchan continues, “Sawako said she thinks there’ll be a battle between the Capsules and the Clowns tonight. Should we try to catch some of it?”

Shotaro leans his elbows onto the desk in front of his friend and smiles, indulgent.

“While we’re high for the first time? Sounds like a shitty idea.” Sungchan pouts like Shotaro knew he would, so he adds a “we can feel it out in the moment, though,” because he is a weak man when it comes to Sungchan’s wants and needs. They are both that way towards each other, even when it gets them into trouble. But as Yuta always says, “memorable trouble is worth it”; i.e., if it makes a good story in the future, might as well go for it.

“Yuta would kill me if he found out though,” Shotaro wagers, “and I mean that literally.”

The last class of the day ends as he’s speaking and he and Sungchan make plans for meeting in the evening as they filter out of the musty, chipping paint, brutalist structure which is supposed to pass for a place of learning.

Shotaro finds Yuta where he always does after school: unsheathing his motorcycle in the back parking lot.

Yuta’s bike is a souped-up Honda painted to look like a 1940s bomber. Yuta wears a black leather biking suit he probably slipped on in the men’s room before heading out and pulls a helmet decorated with clown makeup over his black mullet as he greets his little brother, following the exchange by offering a similar helmet to Shotaro.

They hop on and head out onto the streets of Neo-Tokyo. Skyscrapers tower grey in the daytime light what feels like miles above the litter-strewn street and block out the sun. They’re so massive they could probably each hold an entire city’s worth of people, Shotaro reckons, and they move sluggishly in opposition to the trajectory of the bike, like cargo ships trudging against water.

“Good day?” Yuta asks when they stop at an intersection next to Flower Alley Mall.

“Yeah,” Shotaro assures. “Sungchan heard something about a battle tonight? What’s up with that?”

“I don’t want to get into it, but he’s right,” Yuta admits. “But don’t try to tag along or I’ll murder you.”

With that, the light turns and Shotaro grabs hold of Yuta, mumbling “I know” fondly into his shoulder. They zip away like that the rest of the way to their apartment, the capsule burning nuclear in Shotaro’s pocket as he’s left to ponder his next move.

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (21)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Fear. Fear is something that has always been part of the human being. It's something that follows us everywhere and it's always the first thing you feel about the unknown. What will happen to me today, tomorrow or in the days, weeks, months to come? What future is for me? How long am I going to live? Will I find love? Is it the good one or the bad one, will it last or not? Should I do it or not? Should I say it or shut up... All these questions that we ask ourselves throughout our lives always plunges us into fear. Because we don't know what our choices will bring as consequences. The famous butterfly effect.  

Fear also manifests itself in dangerous situations, where death can strike at any moment, and when it is about to strike us, fear invades us. Moreover, it is the greatest fear of Man: to die. But some are not afraid of Death: it is even a friend who comes to relieve us of our suffering once and for all. And others believe that death is a simple passage from one life to another through time. Maybe it’s true, maybe it's wrong. Who can really know?

It was with this fear in your stomach that you woke up this morning. The cause? A simple, insignificant, small, piece of paper. How can a single piece of paper scare someone; you'll tell me... Maybe because it's not that insignificant. In fact, it's not the paper that scares you, it's what's written ON IT that scares you.

“He’s dead.”  

Those simple words made you react. These simple words frighten you. Because you know who wrote them, and who he's talking about. He did it. He really did. He has told you for a long time that he will. Yet inside, you feel relieved to know that McKellan won't be able to do anything to you, but that means you'll have to thank Ghostface. Once again. And if it happens like last time... You'd rather not think about it. Because the worst thing for you is that you liked it, deep down. But Jed's here now. And you know nothing can happen to you now. Right? My poor little girl... if you knew the truth... you left the door open. And the big bad wolf came home. Without knowing it, you’ve thrown yourself into the devil's arms.

While you were about to serve yourself a coffee, in order to chase away your dark ideas, someone knocked on the door. You put down your cup and you walk to the door. When you open it, you come face to face with Jed. But a Jed... quite different from usual. His Auburn hair was loose, wavy and cascading, he always wore his glasses, but his outfit was very different, a black t-shirt under an open denim shirt, grey jeans and black sneakers. But this face... and that angelic smile. It's something that will never change in him.

“Well... What happened to the real Jed last night? Have you been hit by the change fairy?” You said laughing.

“You can see it that way, yes. I thought you'd like it if... if I changed my look a little bit.” He responds laughing too.

“Just a little? I feel like you were kidnapped last night to change you or replace you with another. But... I don't mind. Because no matter what you look like... I know you'll always be you.”

You kissed him and he kiss you back, holding you in his arms. It was soft, smooth as always, a feeling that you never want to forget. Never. But Ghostface’s words brought you back to mind and made you tremble slightly. Certainly, Jed is the only one who agrees to write articles about him and that make him the "star" of Roseville. But knowing this sick man... He's capable of anything. Jed felt your concern, put an end to your kiss and recoiled his face to better observe you, passing his hand over your face to reassure you.

“Hey... What's wrong? You... Have you changed your mind?” He asks, worried.  

“No! Of course not! I love you, it’s just that... He... he killed him.” you said, looking elsewhere.

“What? Who kills who?”

“Ghostface. He killed McKellan. He left me that note last night. I know it's him and it's McKellan he's talking about. He told me for a long time that he would do it... I should have told you about it or called the police or...”

“Hey hey hey... Calm down. It's going to be alright, okay? Imagine if you'd told the police about this. He would have killed you. Or torture or worse. We don't know what this psycho can do. You saved your life in some way.

“I know. But I can't help but feel guilty, the cops must know that I had a conflict with him. When they find out his body... they will come to see me and I am afraid... I'm afraid of what's going to happen.” you replied with tears in your eyes.

“Hey, I am here. And as long as I'm here no one will come near you and hurt you. I lost Carla, there's no way I'm going to lose you, is that clear? Our relationship has just begun and I intend to do everything I can this time to make it last for the rest of my life.” He said holding you close to him.  

You both stand still for a few minutes without saying anything, enjoying the present moment. Nothing could ruin this moment. But one thing for you remains worrisome: the fact that you had a conflict with McKellan could put you on the suspect list. Even if Ghostface is the author, you may have problems. Maybe...

Maybe he did it on purpose? It's possible after all! Since you've known each other, he's been trying to push you to kill. He wanted to make you, his accomplice. And if, despite your categorical and repeated refusal to do so, he had taken the initiative? To drag you with him into the spiral of his massacres... And his madness.

“You don't have to worry, knowing Ghostface, he must have left a signature. He doesn't really have the kind to attribute the murder to someone else. So, there is no risk that the police will come to question you.” Replied Jed, backwards to better look at you: “I'm not working today, but I have to finish my article. I'm going to stay with you at the café, okay? And... If you ever need a helping hand, I could help you. Is that okay with you?”

“Say that way you can taste my cakes in secret .... You're going to end up with a nice round belly one day. But if you have to help me, you can bring the cakes for your colleagues. Let's go a little glutton. I'm going to end up being late.” You said, taking two boxes with cakes inside for the newspaper.

Jed smiles before kissing you and open the door. What a gentleman. All both, you're heading to Jed's van to get to work. The streets were quiet on this beautiful day and the cold weather of the last few days had disappeared. We will have to provide air conditioning otherwise the customers will melt ... and the cakes too. You were always worried about this paper but reassured by Jed's words. He is right, so far Ghostface has always signed his crimes. So, there is no reason to worry. Absolutely none. right?

“By the way, Melina... Melina told me for... You know, your family. It's really generous, you know. You... You could have kept it all to yourself. And you give up almost everything to your family. I'm sure your parents are proud of you up there.” Said Jed, breathing deeply without leave the road with your eyes.

“When...When my parents died, my uncles and aunts took care of me... I was in an emotional state... Deplorable. Even so, they've always been there for me. I owe them a lot. So, I think it's normal for me that some part of the inheritance goes back to them.” you respond looking at the road then at him.  

“What are you going to do with... Your share?”

“Keep it. As much as I could. I will try to live as much as possible with the coffee money. And then maybe one day I would live in a nice little country house, far from everything. With the sound of birds and the singing of the rooster to wake me up. Or I'll take a trip around the world. I've always dreamed of going to Norway or Sweden... These countries are beautiful...”

Jed smiles while parking in the newspaper’s parking lot. It's best not to get fined. And since you have cakes to deliver... You might as well give them in your own hand, don't you? And so, you can see the newspaper's premises. No sooner do you enter the building than you freeze on the spot. Who would have thought that a small newspaper like the Roseville Gazette could have so many people? And to think that Jed is one of them! There are even security guards! It's impressive! You give them the boxes and tell them to be careful that no cakes end up crushed. Then all two go back and open the café. It's time. Jed settled down at the table next to the counter. The start of the day went very well, customers were always flocking as delighted to come to see you. The lunch break came and you sit at Jed's table, slightly exhausted.

“Maybe you should hire someone to help you. You're going to get sick by putting so much pressure on yourself.” Said Jed smiling.

“I thought about it... but not yet. I want to be financially sure I can pay a salary. Are you getting away with your article?” you ask.

“Yes. Mike was such a rotten man. A drug dealer and a pedophile on top of the market. Apparently, he was wanted in other states for these facts. But he always managed to evade the police. Unfortunately for him he did not escape death. Even my boss is disgusted to know that he had such a criminal in his employees.” He answers.

“No one could have known... There are true masters of concealment. We think they're honest people and then one day they reveal their real faces. And on that day, it's already too late to do anything.” You replied sadly.

“That’s true. You know, I've been very concerned about how Ghostface works... Since I've been writing these articles, I've noticed two or three little things about how he operates. He went after people who... always do something wrong. Since he started these murders... all of his victims either committed robberies, assaults, or trafficked drugs.”

“It’s to believe that he wants to pretend to be a hero.”

“Or he gets rid of the competition. This guy's a narcissist. He doesn't seem to like being robbed of the limelight. If he gets rid of those who want to steal the show... Then he'll be the only criminal in all of Roseville and I'm sure he's not going to stop there. He'll go all over the country.” Said Jed, replacing his glasses on his nose.

“He wants to be the biggest criminal in the whole country. The question is... Why?” you said confused.

The break ends and you get back to work quickly. Jed is right about one thing: one day you will have to hire someone. You won't be able to hold the coffee forever on your own, and if you're ever thinking about expanding it, you'll need employees. During the afternoon, you receive a phone call from the police that made you panic. Have they found McKellan’s body? Do they already want to question you??

None of that. The policeman on the other end of the line simply summons you to have your statement in relation to your attacker. You almost forgot that one. You say that you would be available tomorrow during the day because you’re not working. To which he replied that everything was written down and that he would be waiting for you tomorrow in his office. You sigh with relief when you hang up the phone before explaining everything to Jed, who laughs slightly shaking his head.  

The rest of the afternoon went very well, and the time of closing arrived. After your usual little ritual, you and Jed go to eat something. For the first time a good burger and fries will be your meal tonight. After that, you head to your home. You greet Mr. Lawson, and go up to your apartments. But instead of leaving you, Jed kissed you while making you enter his house.

“What are you doing?” You said laughing.  

“I don't want to sleep alone tonight. So, I'm kidnapping you.” He said before kissing you again, lifting you by the waist, making you let go of a little squeak of surprise.

“Well, what a force...”

“And you haven't seen anything yet.” He replied, heading to his bedroom.  

He laid you down on his bed gently before putting himself above you. He removed his t-shirt, revealing his finely trimmed body, and with his wavy, cascading hair... he looks like a god. He kissed you again, began to slide his hands over your body, making you shudder slightly. But this time, it's a shudder of pleasure. He kissed every part of your body from head to stomach, then gently removed your top. He pushed his hair with a wave of his hand, revealing blue eyes piercing to fall out.

“It's... Maybe it's a little too soon. You may need a little time.” He said with a little smile.  

“I... I’m sorry, I didn't want to...” you said worried by his reaction.  

“It’s okay. I'll wait until you're ready. But on the other hand, that day ... I can't guarantee I'll control myself.”

“I can't wait to see that then.” you replied by getting up before being lying down again by Jed.

“I said I didn't want to sleep alone tonight.”

“I don't even have pyjamas for tonight!” you said laughing.

“Never mind... I'll lend you one.”

He put on a quick kiss before getting up and throwing a pyjama at you to change you. He undressed, wearing only his boxer before bed. Once changed, you join him in bed and you settle in his arms, passing your hand in his hair. You kiss one last time to wish you good night and fall asleep both. In his arms, all your fears fly away. All your worries disappear.  

Nothing can happen to you.  

Nothing scares you.

Not even Ghostface.

***

(I'm officially passing my code exam on April 9th! I can't wait! and I'm a little scared too XD But I've got a week to review so I should be fine! So, since we are confined for a month in France, the chapters will come out as planned, since I no longer go on vacation ... I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others! Good weekend to all! See ya!)

[army-of-mai-lovers]

I’m not sure if you’ve answered this question before so apologies if you have! What’s the best movie you’ve seen?

anon this is such a nice ask thank you so much! the way I categorize movies is weird because there’s “best movie I’ve ever seen” like it’s the best technically and it’s written really well and it talks about important subjects and all that jazz, and then there’s “best movie I’ve ever seen” like it makes me feel good and I can look past any flaws because I just love it so much. So technically the best movie I’ve ever seen is Sorry to Bother You or Moonlight or Malcolm X or Get Out, which actually I’m planning to rewatch all of those soon bc Black History Month. StBY this really excellent allegorical critique of racial capitalism, and the layers of it are super interesting and weird and cool and the camera work and lighting and writing and acting are *amazing* and TESSA THOMPSON’S IN IT. And then I’m sure you’ve at least heard of Moonlight, but I know so many people who have *heard* of Moonlight and celebrated it winning the Oscar for best picture but haven’t actually watched it, or don’t think about it anymore, and honestly I really hate that. So, if you haven’t seen it, it’s a wonderful film, the acting and direction and writing is absolutely spectacular, and I’m honestly crying just thinking about it. Also, JANELLE MONAE’S IN IT. And then there’s Malcolm X, which honestly, all biopics should aspire to be that good. Spike Lee definitely has a style and sometimes that style gets to be a lot, but in this movie it actually works really well and draws you in. I’ll be honest about halfway through I just forgot I was watching a movie at all, and when the credits started rolling I couldn’t even process that Angela Bassett had been playing Betty Shabazz and that I hadn’t just been watching Betty Shabazz. If you’ve never seen Angela Bassett in anything but Black Panther, do yourself a favor, and watch Malcolm X. 

Speaking of, honorable mentions to Black Panther, Waves, and Frida. I remember seeing Black Panther in theaters with my white cishet dude nerd friend and feeling like I had just been transported to another plane, and I looked over at him and asked him what he thought and he was like “yeah it was good.” And then we saw Infinity War a month later and he was like HOLY CRAP THAT WAS AMAZING. I and every other Black person I know except for my little sister saw Black Panther when it came out (even my mom, who hates movies) and it was just so affirming to see a cool big budget film from a franchise that I’ve been following since I was a kid release a movie that went beyond being a “race film” while still talking about issues that affect Black folks everywhere in a meaningful way. My brother made me watch Waves a few months ago (but I didn’t mind bc I will watch literally everything Sterling K. Brown is in) and it was technically beautiful and I loved it a lot, but also it was so violent and terrifying and I actually cannot watch it again for my own health so. Watch it at least once, if you’re the type of person who can rewatch Parasite then you’re the type of person who can watch this movie and be fine, I just can’t deal with violence like that. And Frida I had been meaning to watch and I finally sat down and did it like two months ago and it was absolutely fabulous. The director did a really good job blending the surrealistic elements with the more realistic ones, the acting was stellar, the story was told in such a moving way, cannot recommend enough. 

As for movies that bring me enough comfort and joy that I overlook their flaws--Birds of Prey, 27 Dresses, Mamma Mia, The Devil Wears Prada, Legally Blonde, Brooklyn, What a Girl Wants, and Sydney White. This is not to say that any of these movies are bad (although the Amanda Bynes ones are bad, that’s just a fact). What I’m saying is this is what I watch for fun, when I want to turn my brain off. And that might seem weird if you know anything about Brooklyn bc it’s very much an Oscar bait prestige picture, but I’ve seen it like ten times at this point, I get the point, honestly I can’t even tell you why I like that movie so much but it’s the only movie I’ve ever watched twice in the same day, like I literally finished the movie and started it over in that moment, and I don’t understand why. What a Girl Wants, Sydney White, Legally Blonde, and most recently Birds of Prey are my breakup/romantic disappointment movies, as in I put them in the rotation when I get dumped or stood up or rejected. Birds of Prey and Legally Blonde are of course actually good movies that make me feel more confident and better about myself, hence why I like them and put them in the rotation when I’m at my lowest, and the Amanda Bynes movies are there because they remind me of happier times in my childhood (and in the case of What A Girl Wants, Colin Firth is there). Mamma Mia and The Devil Wears Prada are there mostly because I love Meryl Streep and Amanda Seyfried and Anne Hathaway (but mostly Meryl) and they are just excellent feel good films (also the cerulean scene? I die every time). And 27 Dresses is my favorite rom com of all time, because I relate to Jane and yes that does concern me, and it falls in the Brooklyn category of frequent rewatches (though not *quite* as frequently)

[dreamii-yume]

I read you standard twisted wonderland smut on ao3 and I was wondering if you can write one for my friends birthday? She is turn 29 next month. And she been wanto g to see a yandar cater x mc. Were the mc is a human with wolf ears and tail, and is the object of desire for Cater who wants her for himself.

Tell her I said, Happy Birthday~! (*^▽^*) Hope you like this sinfic~! Sorry if it’s late! (//∇//)

♥♥♥♥♥

Darling was simply intriguing to him! Her ears and tail that resembles that of a wolf? Totally worth putting on his feed~! Magicamable! Cater had just become so attached to you but wait, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around~? Oh, well~! That trope was so last year anyway!

♥♥♥♥♥

Cater had always been the type to get bored with things so easily. He follows trends and is always up to date on what’s new but always ends up dropping them once it becomes irrelevant. If you think about it, it’s just how humanity functions, there’s just no more fun in things we already got used to. The world continues on functioning, adding a new collection to its massive space, waiting for the new revolutionary thing to appear. Cater had learned how to adapt to it, just something that he grew up believing.

So, explain to him why someone like you, a young woman with an unusual pair of wolf ears and tail had caught his attention so much?

Your species weren’t new, Cater had seen tons of half-animal people in Savanaclaw and even outside Night Raven College. He thought he would just greet you and take a quick selfie like he always does with newcomers and proceed to go on with his life. But that didn’t turn out to be the case, a simple small talk became a full-on conversation and Cater was genuinely invested in your stories. Perhaps it wasn’t your appearance but your overall personality that intrigued him? It sounded cheesy when said out loud but it was true, you have an approachable and laid-back personality, it was easy for anyone to adapt with you.

Now that he had a closer look at you, Cater was starting to doubt his earlier assumptions about you being like the Savanaclaw students. No, you were far too calm and outgoing compared to those ferocious and troublesome students of Night Raven College. Not to mention that unlike their dirty and worn out fur, yours was clean and well-groomed, like you took really good care of yourself. On the day he thought about it, Cater didn’t notice how his hand had automatically move to pat you on the head, stroking your ears. It was just as he expected, it was as soft as silk, like a well-made fluffy stuffed toy.

Then, realization had slowly dawned on him as you looked up, confused at his sudden actions. He wasn’t the type to fret over things and would usually shrug it off as a joke, but at this moment, Cater swore his face had flushed red from embarrassment. He was never an awkward person, he works hard not to be but right now, it was difficult to take his hand off your head, still wanting to feel your soft fur. Cater thought that he screwed up big time, that you might now be looking at him at a different, negative light and started to contemplate whether your fluff was worth it or not. He was so ready for you to run away, all the while look at him with disturbed look on your face.

But instead, you laughed at him as if you were amused by his actions.

“You know, if you wanted to feel my ears, you could’ve just asked?” You said, giggling and Cater swore his heart skipped a beat, his hand twitched whilst in your head. You closed your eyes and leaned on his touch, giving him more access to your twitching ears. Opening your eyes once again, you gave him a silly grin whilst a cute tiny tint of pink forms in your cheeks. “It feels nice when people scratch the back of my ears like this so, I don’t mind.”

That was it. That was the moment that confirmed what Cater felt for you.

Something more than what a senior feel towards their junior.

Something more than what someone feel towards a friend.

This was different, something Cater thought he won’t be able to feel for a while.

So, this was what falling in love feels like...

Cater could feel his face began turn unusually hot and red in which he panicked at. Before you could notice, he took advantage of his ability to move again and without thinking, buried you in his arms so that you wouldn’t be able see his face. You squeaked in obvious surprise but was also very confused on why he was embracing you all of a sudden. “A-Ah! Really!? Is that so? T-Then, don’t mind if I do~!” Cater said as a way to answer your confusion, his voice sounded too fake for his liking but he just hoped that you’ll somehow buy it. His shaking hand began to gently scratch the back of your ear like you said. “Uwah~! So soft, so fluffy~!”

You were still a bit confused but decided to go along with it and slowly wrapped your arms around him too, patting his back. Cater flinched, his body seemingly became a lot more sensitive to your touch. He laughed nervously as sweat formed in his forehead, dripping slightly as he looked the other way. In the end, his unexpected awkwardness became a way for you two to get closer, literally. It wasn’t everyday where you realize you’re in love with someone and the next move you do is to immediately hug them after all.

Still, even with all that, Cater smiled, melting in your embrace as his hearts flutter in a good way. Before he knew it, he took out his phone and snap a shot of himself with you in his arms, surprising you. This was a way for him to commemorate his new-found feelings. Needless to say, both of you proceeded with Cater enjoying the blush on your face while scolding him for taking a picture without your knowledge.

♥♥♥♥♥

Time goes by and Cater just grew more and more attached to you. There wasn’t any day you spent where he didn’t appear, at least days where you don’t hear his voice calling out to you in a sing-along voice were almost non-existent. Sometimes he would appear in the most convenient of places and it would result into a small talk between the two of you, if not, just taking a quick selfie together. Cater became a lot touchier too ever since the day you gave him the permission to do so, which you guessed was categorized as your own fault. However, there would be times where he would hug you so affectionately in public that you were beginning to feel really awkward around people, thankfully Ace and Deuce were there to pry him away from you.

Cater just really loves to spend time with you so he couldn’t help himself! Cater invites you to every single of unbirthday party in Heartslabyul too, which fortunately in his part, you and the other members didn’t really mind. He would ask you to paint the roses with him, a simple excuse to spend more time with you and talk a little bit more. During unbirthday parties, Cater eventually did notice that you do not partake in any sweets. He initially thought that you were not a big fan of sweets just like him and momentarily, caused a delusion of how perfect the two of you because of this preference.

But no, it turns out you were just not made to eat sweets like this which broke his delusion rather quickly. Though, he did notice that your tail would wag up and down, trying to hide your excitement and your eyes sparkling as a monc blanc was placed in front of you. Cater felt bad but find it super adorable at the way your ears would flopped down in disappointment as you watch others eat their cakes while you were stuck with some mediocre snack. It was easy to tell just how much you wanted to eat the sweets but unlike him, who just really hated anything sweet, your biology just doesn’t allow you to consume any.

“Sweets messes up my stomach and I always end up vomitting so...No, thank you.” You explained to him, scratching the back of your head.

As a way to help you, Cater instantly turned towards Trey and asked for the favor of overwriting the effects of sweets in your body. This meant you could eat the sweets without changing the flavor and without any side effects to worry about! You were confused at first but when Cater pressured you to try the monc blanc that you’ve been eyeing for a while, you widened your eyes. Anyone who was watching you thought it was the purest thing that they’ve ever seen, just a wolf girl gobbling down a monc blanc for the first time. Cater smiled brightly at that, happy that he was able to make you experience the taste of a sweet that you weren’t able to enjoy but...

At the end of the day, it was Trey who made that possible for you. Not him.

With that thought in his mind, Cater, for the very first time, felt jealous of the Heartslabyul’s vice dorm head’s unique magic. If he had that kind of magic, he would use it anytime you wanted to eat anything that’s physically bad for your body. He wouldn’t care whether he overuses his magic, if he could see you smile like that every time he does so, it would be so worth it.

Why does he not have that kind of magic? A magic that can make you this happy? Why does Trey have it and he doesn’t?

Why?

Blinded by the sudden dangerous thoughts, Cater was pulled back from reality when he felt a gentle tug on his shirt. He quickly turned around and had instantly came in face to face with you. His smile and his body froze because of the close distance, not even realizing how you held up a spoon full of chocolate mousse towards him.

“You should try some too, Cater-senpai.” You offered, your other hand guiding the spoon from beneath just in case it fell off.

“Oh...! Um...” Cater blinked dumbfoundly looking at you and the chocolate mousse he dreads to see. The dessert made his stomach churn, it looked too sweet for his taste. However, you smiled at him, patiently waiting for the moment he would take it in his mouth. That chocolate mousse is definitely going to mess up his appetite but you were willing to feed him like this! Isn’t this exactly what a girlfriend and a boyfriend would do!?

“T-Thank you for the food~!” Cater gulped in nervousness at first with his face remaining red before opening up his mouth and engulfing the creamy texture of the dessert, ready to fight the taste of the disgusting sweet flavor.

Except, there was none.

In fact, it tasted delicious! Like that of his favorite cheesy omourice!

Chewing in shock, Cater turned towards you in which you laughed at how ridiculously confused he was. “I heard you didn’t like sweets so I already asked Trey-senpai to overwrite the taste for you.” You said, smiling mischievously at him. “I can’t be the only one who’s enjoying the unbirthday party desserts now, can I? I guess we have Trey-senpai to thank for that.”

Covering his mouth as he chews, his eyes were wide this whole time until the moment he swallowed. It took him a while to recover but with a blush on his face, he scratched the back of his head and grinned. He took this as another opportunity to tackle you into a playful hug, patting your head all throughout. “Gosh~! You got me there, you little...!” Cater said as you merely laughed.

He hugged you tighter but without you getting too suspicious about it and buried his face on your ear. His hand was playfully stroking the fur in your tail as he smiled with the blush that never left his cheeks. Cater was happy, this turned out to be such a blissful day for him and it was all thanks to you.

With that, Cater fell deeper in love as he took another selfie with you.

...And almost forgetting about the way his mind had clouded over him such dangerous questions in his head.

♥♥♥♥♥

At this point, Cater was convinced that the two of you were meant for each other.

From walking to school grounds at the earliest of day, your routine always had him in it now, even if it’s unintentional. At lunch, you would sit next to him and even though the other students from Hearyslabyul was there, Cater felt your attention was always on him. When you would visit Heartslabyul, the two of you would sit on the grass and you would even let him fondle your fluffy tail, a part that you specifically told him that was very sensitive so he had to be careful. You two were practically acting like an official couple now, right? It’s a perfect chemistry, no one can argue about that!

So...Why?

Why do you still spend time with other people when you already have him?

Cater could feel nothing but emptiness inside of him whenever he sees you talking to another guy, be it as simple as asking for notes, he didn’t care. He doesn’t want anyone coming as close as a meter to you. Due to your difference in school years, your class schedule was a lot different from his, therefore there are some times he wouldn’t be there to be with you. Times like these causes great anxiety for Cater, not knowing where you are or what you were doing.

What if you were being taken advantage of other men right now? What if you were falling in love with someone else? What if there was something bad about to happen to you and there’s no one to warn you about it?

Aah...Riddle will have his head if he doesn’t focus on his studies like this.

Even though Cater knew that there wasn’t any official relationship between the two of you just yet, he still couldn’t help but become jealous of other people. Finding out that he wasn’t the only one who’s allowed to pet you on the head and play with your tail was already upsetting enough. How dare the guy made you laugh by tickling that specific part of your ear? He must’ve had a death wish and Cater would gladly grant it for him if he wanted. But when you have such an exotic darling such as yourself with fur that was so addicting to touch, it was just a given that other people would flock all over you. Cater had learned this the hard way.

But it doesn’t mean it’s alright. He absolutely hated that.

Walking around one day, Cater brightened at the sight of you in the distance. Your back was facing him but even an idiot could tell it was you just from that. Eager to immediately greet you, his mood suddenly darken when he realized that you were talking to another male student with a notebook and pen in your hand, seemingly writing what he was telling you. Cater stood there for a few seconds, his mind was in shambles about what he was going to do, silently glaring at the poor guy. Then, he decided to move forward, ready to do the worse thing if it ever came to it.

You took notes of what your classmates was saying, all about tips and advices regarding the subject you just learned earlier. You were falling quite behind the class and you didn’t want your grades to suffer because of it. Therefore, here you were, listening to the class president about it, thinking how clear his advices were.

Suddenly, two hands snaked from behind you, wrapping one around your shoulders and the other one rudely taking your pen away. You jerked in surprise and noticed how it was your senior, Cater Diamond all along. “C-Cater-senpai!” You exclaimed. Even with your senses, you didn’t sense him at all, which led you to the conclusion that he probably used teleportation magic.

“Hey, (Y/N)-chan~ What ‘cha doing?” He innocently asked as if he didn’t just rudely interrupt you from writing your notes. He even held up your pen and started spinning it on his hand.

“Oh...I was asking for notes...” You said, a bit uneasy. You were used to this kind of behavior from Cater so you didn’t actually understand why you felt so unnerved all of a sudden. It’s like your stomach was screaming for you that this was a different course of action than before. “Can I have my pen back ple-“

“Oh, is that so~! Is that so~!” Cater cheerfully said, cutting you off before you could even finish your sentence and turning towards the guy you were talking with. He gave him his signature smile but it doesn’t quite reach the look in his eyes, which made the guy flinch as a nervous reaction. “I’ll be borrowing (Y/N)-chan for a while, yeah~? It’s kind of an urgent thing so...”

Cater pointed the pen at him, the pointed end suddenly felt like a knife directed at the guy’s neck. The atmosphere felt dangerous, your ears perked up in alert, something was definitely not right here. “...Can you go away for a while? I’ll really, really appreciate it.” He said, his voice was enough to cause the guy to sweat nervously.

“A-Ah, yes, of course...!” The guy said and quickly ran away, with an imaginary tail between his legs. You didn’t even get to protest as the guy went off without any goodbye. You clicked your tongue, you needed the guy’s knowledge to study for the upcoming exam. Whatever your senior wanted to talk about, it better be worth it.

As Cater waved at him, all too happy to see him go away, you turned to him with a somehow annoyed look. “What is it?” You asked, containing how upset you are. “What do you want to talk about? You said it’s urgent?”

Finally, you two were alone and Cater turned to you, blinking. He then gave you a huge grin and stuck his tongue out. “Oh, that? That was just a bluff~! There’s really nothing serious happening so, don’t worry~!” He said, laughing but you were not amused. “I just really want him to go away~!”

“...I was asking him for notes. Exam is right around the corner, you see...” You said, still trying to contain your irritation.

Cater noticed that shift on your mood however, sensing your current emotion had become a skill that he had mastered this past few days. You flinched as he leaned in closer to your face, you could feel his breath on your neck. He looked at the notes on your hand, reading them before giving a chuckle. “Oh, this is normal first-year stuff~! I can teach you these, no problem~!” Cater proudly said before his voice lowered down. “Anyways~”

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)-chan~? Are you upset~?” He asked, whispering in your ear as his hand moved down to your waist, wrapping them around. He used the other tip of your pen to turn your chin towards him. At this point, you were feeling so uncomfortable, Cater was touchy before but not to this extent. But still, no matter how irritated you felt, you couldn’t help but feel somehow scared of your situation. You gulped at the look in his eyes, you felt trapped. “It’s not good to bottle up feelings, sweetie~!”

Sweetie...?

It was when he moved towards the tip of your ear and bit them slightly that you finally decided to draw the line and found the courage to push him away. Cater looked surprised himself in your act of rejection before looking up at him with an upset expression face.

“Please, stop that!” You finally snapped, but still trying to remain polite with him. “You’re far too close and I’m finding your touches inappropriate lately!”

“It’s making me uncomfortable so, I think it’s better if you leave me alone for a while!”

With that, you turned away from him, walking away without even waiting for his reply, your tail swaying back and forth in annoyance. Cater tried calling out for you, hoping to fix your mood by laughing it off as usual and apologizing but unfortunately, that didn’t become the case. It seems like you were really pissed this time. As you walked away after letting out a fit like that, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy himself. He screwed up big time, his eyes widened in realization as he covered his mouth.

But still, Cater couldn’t help but feel that it was a tad bit unfair. He was just showing you his love that you haven’t been noticing these past few days, why were you being so feisty for? Is it bad to protect something that clearly already belongs to him? Isn’t just natural instinct to be protective of you? He didn’t want you anywhere near these dirty students, he was the only one who clearly knows how to handle you.

His expression darken as his eyes swirl in madness, why were you like this? He was even kind enough to drive away that guy who could potentially ruin you. Instead of being grateful about it, you looked at him as if he was the one in the wrong instead. Saying those kinds of words to him, saying to leave you alone, aren’t you being too mean?

Those words hurt, you know?

Cater clicked his tongue, perhaps he had spoiled you a bit too much now. You were still the same angel he fell in love with but that was no way in talking to your lover, you know? You’ve started to bark now and he isn’t sure if he was liking it. He would’ve absolutely liked you being the obedient little wolf that you are. It would be just a matter of time before you would seriously bear your fangs at him and if he doesn’t do anything, you’ll slip away from his grasp.

Guess animals really do need extreme discipline to understand who their owners are, huh?

♥♥♥♥♥

Continue the Spice~?

Aaahh, so our wifi connection decided this was the best time to disconnect. I actually don’t know the next time I’ll update (￣▽￣)