#the actual reason for the contacts thing is because i couldn't pick between the two eye colours i really like both

[princekirijo]

POINTS ‼️‼️NEW RIKU ICON‼️ REAL‼️ GRAHHHHH HE LOOKS AWESOME 🔥🔥🔥

Ahh thank you Misty :3c

Here is the uh full icon for those who want to see it properly 👉👈

He's my silly little goose :3 my funny boy

Also uhm a bonus and a little lore drop I'd planning to make for a while undercut ehe

Tada this is Riku's actual eye colour! Much similar to Mitsuru's :3 He wears eye contacts throughout a lot of Captain AU's story and if you ask him why he will give you a different answer every time ehe

[etherealily]

𝕊𝕀ℕ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​

No one seemed to like the cliffhanger, so here's a draft that i converted into a makeshift part 6.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. NSFW. Drugs. Contains brief explicit content.

Part 1 : Whiplash Part 2 : 9 Lives Part 3 : Blessed Part 4 : Shards Part 5 : Eighteen

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

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Nate had never been more pissed in his life. Ever. You'd blatantly disobeyed him. Well, not technically. No technically, you hadn't been told anything, but he'd have figured you weren't so dense as to go and visit Shane motherfucking Crestin in the motherfucking ER !

Honestly. It's like you had one braincell and all it told you was to piss him off.

And fuck him. He definitely saw that in your eyes the last time.

Or was that the molly?

Probably the molly.

But whatever. The fact was, you wanted to fuck him, and he wanted to fuck you, and he had no idea why you wanted him out of your life if that was the case. Wasn't that fate? Two people want something so bad, they should end up doing it, no? Not going and visiting the reason they couldn't do it in the ER.

Yeah, he decided.

Yes. They. Should.

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He'd figured you would avoid him like the plague, anyway. So he didn't care if it reached you or not that he was helping McKay host a party. So imagine his surprise when, after about two months of no contact, you showed up at his party.

"Whoa."

You frowned. "Excuse me?'

"What happened to 'get the fuck out of my life, Nate?' What, were you just full of it?"

"Dude. If me being here bothers you that much, I'll just fucking leav-"

"Jeez, don't be a baby, short stuff.", he cooed, patting your head before slinging an arm around you. "C'mon, let's do shots."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, none of this friendliness."

He rolled his eyes, removing his hand from you. "Fine. C'mon. I missed you."

And the problem was, he did. He actually fucking missed you. Which was the weirdest thing to happen to him since... well, birth. It wasn't anything in particular, it wasn't even the fact that you were easy on the eyes.

He, like a fucking simp, just liked you being around him.

With as much trepidation as a sycophant scorned by his master, he gently, reverently, offered you a shot. "For old times' sake?"

You rolled your eyes, taking it from him. "For old times' sake? Like, the time you got me drunk at school?'

He smiled, his hand slowly back around your shoulder as he tugged you closer, kissing your temple. "We could always go back, y'know?", he murmured next to your ear. "Get high on the bleachers again."

"No."

"C'mon, we haven't hung out in two months. Ditch these fakes. I'm the fun one, anyway."

Jesus.

He took a long drag of his vape, the smoke bombarding your face. He proferred it to you and frowned when you declined. "Why not?"

"I don't vape."

"Are you one of those bitches that says 'smoke a real cigarette'?"

"No, I don't smoke at all."

He rolled his eyes. "We're going to the bleachers."

It was weird, to say the least, the air between you two back at the bleachers. You sat, looking up at the sky, the grass, anywhere but his eyes, and he sat with his head on your lap.

Silence covered the two of you until he sighed. "Can we just pick up where we left off?"

"And where was that?"

"With me almost eating you out."

You scoffed. You wouldn't have done that if you thought he was being serious. You wouldn't have done that if you were entirely sober. But you didn't and you weren't, so you scoffed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

"I'm not joking. You're making this harder than it needs to be. There isn't any ulterior motive, this is just... boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy-"

"Debatable.", you muttered, but he ignored it.

"-Boy wants to fuck girl, girl wants to fuck boy, boy fucks girl. Why are you adding shit? Do you want drama? Is that what this is? Because we could do drama. I could do drama like you've never fucking seen before!"

In Nate speak, that meant he had a big dick and he wanted you to know.

"Look. It's just too complicated. You've- there's too much-"

"Forget it all. 'Kay? Just you and me.", he replied immediately, sitting up.

"Because you quote-unquote 'love' me."

"Exactly that." His lips found yours, and surprisingly, this time, you actually had a spine and pulled away.

"What the FUCK?"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and stroked your cheek as he shifted and knelt down. "Can we skip the part where you scream 'what the fuck, what the fuck' and push me away and get to the part where you admit you want me? I've had a long day."

Seeing him down there did nothing to make you feel safer.

"Nate-"

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, please, just, for the love of god-", he muttered, as if you were being an inconvenience at the moment and not him, the asshat on his knees. "Would you just relax?"

"Look, Y/N. I love you.", he said, and his hands slowly slid up to the hem of your shirt, his thumb rubbing the skin right under it. "Let me show you."

"You don't love me. Stop saying that."

"Fine, then. I want you. And stop telling me you don't want me, like it's a mortal sin or something.", he warned, gripping the backs of your thighs.

Sadly, you couldn't entirely blame this on the molly this time.

It definitely contributed to the decision, but mostly to the fact that it made every single touch of his explode with a robust... flavour that you couldn't replicate even if you tried.

He smiled up at you so softly you'd think he was on his knees to propose. But no. Instead of opening up a little box, he opened the fly to your pants.

"Can you look at me, please?"

You sighed, looking down. "What?"

"You really don't look like you're against this. I'd even go so far as to say you want me, but you're too much of a pussy to admit it."

You did want him. BUT. You were against this. Because it was wrong. But you were letting him kiss up your thighs, bite at your lower abdomen.

Meaning it was the world according to Nate and it both infuriated you and turned you on.

FUCK.

Hums came from both your mouth and his, and before you knew it, your fingers felt nothing but the locks of his hair, pulling so hard there was no way he wasn't in pain. And he must have been, because gently, so seamlessly, he trailed his hand up to yours, removing it from his hair and interlocking it with his own.

But he didn't pause. His tongue continued doing... well, whatever the hell it was doing that made you want to stab the Earth for being able to produce Nate Jacobs as well as praise it for... well, being able to produce Nate Jacobs.

"You're a virgin?", he asked, breathless, raising a brow in incredulity.

You'd be lying if you said your brain even registered his question - registered anything but his tongue and lips.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Why? Don't tell me this is still a test to see if I'm easy or not-"

"It's not.", he assured, reaching up slowly, and then kissing your cheek of all fucking places. One of his hands trailed back down and into you while the other one immediately closed your mouth, though you had no idea why. It was a fucking desolate high school football field. No one was going to hear anyway.

He grinned, pressing his forehead against yours as he added another finger, curling them as he worked into you. "Shh, shh, shh.", he murmured, after probably feeling the results of you trying not to lose your shit beneath his palm.

"See? We go great together."

You screamed. But it didn't quite carry.

He frowned in confusion for a moment when you made a muffled noise and then muttered an 'ah' as he gently removed his palm from your mouth.

"That's not..."

"Hm? That's not what?"

You could have killed yourself right there, because he smirked is what he did. He smirked when you couldn't finish (and barely even start) your sentences.

"That's not even remotely..."

You were stalling. That was clear. Why? You didn't know. There was no logical reason. He was already fucking inside you, there was no point in backing out of this now.

But there was reason to hesitate.

He sighed, licking his lips and shaking his head in disappointment, brushing hair from your face. "Hey."

"What?"

"If you don't fuck me right now, I will lose my shit. I will cut myself. I will play Russian Roulette again. That work for you?"

Oh, this sick, sick, sick, SICK motherfucker.

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Why you did it? Question for the ages.

You should've said no. You should've gone home. You didn't go home, though, not even after the fact. You probably should have.

Instead, you found yourself back at Fezco's store. Not voluntarily, either, it just seemed your car was as drained as you were, and you forgot to fill it back up.

"Rue?", you called out into what you imagined to be an abyss. Her voice appeared like light at the end of a tunnel. "Hey."

"You high?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need someone to pick me up."

"Maddy's not free?"

"I didn't check."

"Well.", she groaned, shifting around, clearly in some sort of drug-induced discomfort, "You should. I don't wanna kill you, y'know, you mean so fucking much to me."

The sarcasm in her voice was mildly hurtful, but hey. At least she cared enough not to kill you.

More than Nate had ever cared.

"Okay."

So, of course, you called Cassie. Because no fucking way were you calling Maddy to come pick you up from the store owned by the local dealer, which was suspiciously close to the party thrown by her ex.

The car ride with her was smooth and lovely and peaceful. Because she was smooth and lovely and peaceful.

"You think your car will be safe, out there, all night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I told Fez. He knows what to do."

"Y/N, I... I've noticed you've been off, like, the last term or so."

You did not need her therapy session right now.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You're not.", she chuckled, nervously, shaking her head as she slowed down at the red light. "You seem on edge. I think it's cause of him."

"Him?" WHAT? How the fuck did this ditz know?

"Yeah. Like, I don't know, maybe you're in love with him, and you think it's, like... forbidden, because he's a bad influence or something, but you just kinda look... strung out. Like there's a huge secret you're keeping."

She was supposed to be clueless about what was going on around her. Isn't that the thing they say about hot blondes?

"Love? In love? With who?"

"Fezco, of course. I get it, he's a dealer, but he's also hot, and I guess, let's face it, he's quite nice for a criminal."

Oh, thank god. The dumb blonde theory stands.

"I'm not in love with Fez."

"Then why are you so... off?"

"I...", you sighed, deciding to stick to the truth as much as safely possible. "I got in with some bad people during spring break."

The look of concern on her face made you want to apologize and buy her whatever she wanted, or maybe even confess to every fucking sinful thought you'd ever had.

"What? Oh, my god, what? Like, hard drugs and shit?"

"More like guns and shit."

"Y/N, WHAT?!"

"Yeah, it was fucked up, but I'm out of it now, though, so you don't have to worry, okay, Cass? I'm peachy. I'm great, honest! Hey, it's turning amber."

She frowned, turning back to the road in front of her. "You sure?"

You'd never been more grateful for Nate throwing the lamp to your right rather than your left.

You'd never been more grateful for Nate giving you a hickey on your right rather than your left.

You nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, though."

"So. Did you... you went to his party, right? Did you see him? Did you guys talk?"

It took you a moment to figure out that she was talking about her ex.

"McKay? Yeah. Yeah."

"How is he? Did he mention me?"

"He's, um... he's doing fine, I guess. He looks like he misses you, but you know him. He probably won't tell me."

"I just... maybe we... I just want to, um... fix things."

"You should."

"You think?"

You nodded. What the fuck else could you do to distract her from the fact that if she took one look down, she'd see Nate blowing up your phone? "Yeah, you guys were great together."

You instantly cringed. Because that was what Nate had said about you and him. "See? We go great together."'

"I don't know if I want him back, or what. What do you think?"

That I just fucked Nate Jacobs. And that the molly was only half of it. That I'm going to kill myself.

"I think... I think you broke up for a reason, Cass."

She nodded, and the rest of the car ride went in pleasant silence.

Then she dropped you home.

And Rue was waiting for you.

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"You're pissing me off. What is this, blackmail?'

"Yeah. It is. I saw you two in the bleachers, and if you tell people I'm not sober, I'll let it slip that you let Nate Jacobs inside you."

Keep your calm. If you show even a tiny sign of accepting that she was right, you're dead meat. "It was a psych project. He had just finished a practice, so we sat there and finished some work."

"With tequila?"

Silence. Okay. She was not talking about tonight. She was talking about the gun-night. This was salvageable.

"Funnily enough, Y/N, according to what Lexi told me, there's been no 'psych assignment-slash-project.'"

"Rue-"

"So you've not only been lying to all of us, you've been betraying Maddy. And you've done Jules so wrong.'

"Look, you don't even know-"

"Then tell me."

So you did. You told her about the Instagram story, you told her about the Russian roulette, hell, you even told her about the dinner and the scar. What you didn't tell her about was the sex. The mind-blowing guilt-inducing sex.

"But I saw you kiss him on the bleachers."

"I was drunk, Rue. I'd have let the fucking janitor kiss me."

"Look, Y/N, those are my terms."

"You're asking me to lie to everyone about your health, your wellbeing! We're all looking out for you, Rue! Y'can't just blackmail me into not doing right by you."

"As nice as that is, the fact still stands that you fucked Nate."

FUCK!

"Rue, please-"

"He doesn't even fucking want you. He wants to get back at Maddy, and you're too fucked out to see it!"

"Rue, you're crossing the li-"

"I bet that fucking him was the only thing you've been doing this whole time. What, did you fuck him when Maddy was with him?"

Rue laughed after you slapped her and that definitely told you she was so high she couldn't even feel it. "C'mon. Grow up.", she scoffed, tucking hair behind your ear. "Girl code's not important anymore, is it? We're all eighteen - adults - now."

WHY must everyone always do that with your hair? So fucking condescendingly, too?!

"Rue, I didn't fuck Nate Jacobs."

"Then why is he blowing up your phone? Yeah, you think I didn't notice the name on your screen?"

"He blows up my phone because he's a psycho- I told you about the Russian Roulette thing and the gun and the slit wris-"

"Yeah, but you said you asked him to leave you alone and he did. Why would he break no contact? What could've happened?"

"Rue, I am not going to help you fake sobriety in front of your family- I- Rue, what is that?"

She frowned, looking down and following your line of sight. Her bag. The front zip. A needle. She looked back up, deadpan. "Fent."

"RUE! YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME T-"

"Look, Y/N, I like you, I do. There's no reason for you to worry, okay? If you could be quiet, your life will go on as it always does. No reputation loss, no guilt, no embarrassment."

"This will kill you! I can't do that to you, Rue, please!"

"But you can do Nate Jacobs?"

You were genuinely about to strangle this fucking trapper cunt.

"Think about it."

What, had she gotten lessons in blackmail from him?

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That night, you were too fucking exhausted to even question why Nate was knocking at your window. You just opened it for him. You just let him kiss you. You just let him tuck your hair behind your fucking ear.

"I have a question."

"What?"

"Did you visit Shane in the hospital?"

Okay. No way he could have found out about that. You didn't tell a single fucking soul.

"Huh?"

"I beat him up for you. 'Cause he was saying you fucked when you didn't.", he said, his voice oddly calm for a man betrayed.

"I didn't ask you to!"`

"Please.", he scoffed, clapping sarcastically. "Biggest cop-out of the century."

"I didn't!"

"He was calling you a slut, basically. As if you'd just give it up to anyone." What, like he knew you that well?

"Hundreds of people say hundreds of shit about me every fucking day! What am I, supposed to set you on them?"

"You could."

You scoffed.

"I'm being serious. You could say "'sic 'em' " and I'd beat them to a bloody pulp.", he informed, brushing hair over your ear again. "Say it. Tell me someone to beat up. I'll do it. No matter who it is."

"Nate. I didn't ask you to do any of this. I asked you to leave me alone, and you did the opposite!"

"You're acting like I showed up, fucked you, and then just left!"

He clenched his jaw, his grip on the piece of hair he just pushed behind your ear, now shifting to the rest of your hair. "No, cunt. I said 'I love you'. Or did you conveniently forget that?"

Oh. Right. THAT.

"What? You're suddenly acting like a pussy, baby, what's up with that? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember. Don't be a pussy. C'mon, tell me. Oh, yeah, wait a minute, you can't."

"You didn't mean that. You wanted to get what you wanted, so you-"

"You think I say shit like 'I love you' lightly? You think I throw that word around?" Yes, he did, but you didn't need to know that. He decided to deploy the trauma card.

"You've seen what my parents are like. You think I'd abuse the words 'I love you'?"

"I guess not-"

"Yeah. EXACTLY."

Ooh, you were putty in his hands and he almost got a semi because of it.

"Look, okay, fine, Nate, that- that was out of pocket, but you can't expect me to-"

"But I do. I have never lied to you. Have I? I've blackmailed you and threatened you and, fuck, yeah, I've stuck a goddamn gun down your throat, but when have I ever lied?"

"So you're saying you 'love' me and I have to just accept it."

"I'm saying I love you, and you have to just believe it.'

And god help you, you somehow did.

"Rue's blackmailing me."

He mock-gasped. "You're cheating on me, then."

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. Him being so calm in the face of danger should make him look foolish in your eyes, not admirable.

And the molly excuse was being held up by string the breadth of dental floss, honestly.

"Does she use firearms as well? Did you think about me the whole time?" He was clearly trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

He kissed your forehead. "What did she blackmail you for?"

"For or about?"

"Both."

"For : keeping her relapse a secret from everyone. About : the gun-night at the bleachers."

"Okay, so the choice is clear."

"What?"

Nate Jacobs had scared you when he'd said he loved you and when he'd said he'd kill himself for you, but he'd never scared you as much as he did with what he said next.

"We just sit back and watch that bitch OD."

[easy-there-leftovers]

Doctor

Summary: Spencer's been there when you had been feeling rather inadequate, for lack of a better term. It's about time that you return the favor. (Written with early s2! Spencer in mind)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader| cw: Spencer being unsure (is that a warning? lol), touchy reader, non canon case, vague timeline, reader and Spence being sapiosexual dumbasses, as per usual (weirdos) | word count: 2.3k

Budget cuts suck, especially if that meant doubling up and sharing a room with one of your colleagues. Or worse— your boss.

It's been a few months since your last GSW, and things haven't been much different. Or maybe it only was because you had been so out of the loop for a while that you hadn't noticed if it was. You hadn't changed up your routine nor your demeanor, so perhaps the others were just following your lead and brushing it off as nothing.

You still feel the occasional stares of literally anyone from your workplace, but you've learned to ignore it since dwelling on it never did you any good.

But you suppose something had changed.

Your relationship with your contemporary.

To be more specific, Dr. Reid had become more accustomed to seeking you out. Engaging in conversation with you more than the previous usual. It wasn't extremely unlike him to do so before, but his persistence has surely increased since your conversation at the hospital. Keeping to his intentions of having more dialogue between you two.

The same couldn't be said about the past week or two, however. While it didn't seem like he was completely avoiding you, you've noticed that you've had more opportunities to talk to Elle, JJ, and Morgan more than you have him. As if the overall frequency of his exchanges with everyone had somehow diminished.

You were going to find out why.

"Looks like we're doubling up." Your unit chief had briefed when you made it the shitty motel.

And your plan starts now.

Spencer feels an arm snake around his waist which makes him look up from his notes, and he's not surprised to see that it's yours. If anyone had to be making decisive contact with him, it would've been you.

"What is it?" He whispers carefully since Hotch is still talking. Used to your touch it at this point.

"Would you like to sleep with me, Dr. Reid?" He clears his throat instinctively.

Your indelicate remarks however, most likely never.

Since your little incident, he's discovered that you're less careful with your diction outside of work and it has certainly thrown him off but he knows that's just how you are. You and your forever unreadable expressions and contrasting sentiments.

Before he can answer however, Morgan's voice cuts through.

"I'm not sleeping with Reid." Everyone looks to him, except Garcia who immediately calls dibs on Derek, and he feels your arm slowly pull away.

Aaron looks from you to Spencer with that usual expression of his before exhaling deeply with crossed arms.

"I assume you're rooming with her?"

Seeing that you're no longer facing him, Spencer can only give your mentor a meek nod. Feeling the same wariness one would feel in the presence of someone's father.

The rest then picked their respective roommates and disband. Reminding one another to meet at the entrance tomorrow bright and early.

———————————————

Lately, Reid has become aware of a lot of things. Things that he never had to worry about before, but ever since Morgan had told him how you felt about the team, he had started questioning his place too.

He has never been ashamed of his intelligence. Far from it, actually. It's the one thing that he's ever been confident in and it's lead him to places that, he thinks, bettered him. Like coaching his high school basketball team, graduating with three PhD's, or getting into the BAU.

But he also fears that part of him alienates him from the others. That his intellect might be the very reason that will, or already, keep him from forming lasting and meaningful relationships. Even more troubling, that he might never live up to the expectations that everyone has of him.

Both as a colleague, and as a friend.

It's worse when the only person on the team that might not feel this way about him is you. Which then comes with its own set of problems.

You had been nothing but well-intentioned since the very start, practically shadowing him throughout everything. Being there to reinforce his confidence with your keen insight, your reflective encouragement, and your comforting presence—all things that made him feel seen.

But with the few times that you weren't there, it unnerved him. As if something was missing. Like it became an unshakeable habit to look over his shoulder and he would find you right there. So when you weren't there, it jus didn't seem right.

And he felt bad about it.

By the time that you had finished showering, you see Spencer with his hair still lightly damp from the one before yours. Head resting on his hand with a lone finger covering his mouth as if thinking deeply while sitting on the bedside's edge.

You take the opportunity to sit on the floor adjacent his tucked legs and he blinks out of his trance when he sees you lay your head on them. He doesn't mind, but he still feels a little bad.

And it's not about the shared single bed.

He felt as if he was taking advantage of your kindness. That by allowing himself to indulge in your brand of 'friendship,' he was effectively isolating you from the others. That for whatever reason, he just got lucky that you seemed to prefer him over them when he was arguably the most difficult to be with

That if you ever caught wind of his feelings towards you, it would ruin the current dynamic you had. He wasn't the type to catastrophize, he of all people should know the dangers of entertaining such thoughts, but lately your presence has had quite the influence on him.

Which is why he's been trying to make himself scarce until he found out how to deal with it.

You wait patiently by his legs. Gauging when he would finish his line of thought before asking, plainly and simply,

"How are you feeling, Spencer?"

In this room where it's just you and him, he's called 'Spencer.' No titles, no niceties, just his name. A luxury that no one else from the team has yet to earn from you.

He breathes out slowly when the pressure in his chest finally feels like too much, but he still can't seem to say what's on his mind. Worried that by telling you any of this, it would only add more weight onto your already abundant plate.

You trace your fingers on the skin that you can reach and he laughs a bit when it tickles. That seems to make you smile, and the sight makes his own grow ever so slightly before you continue,

"I'm not a doctor, nor do I have a doctorate like you—,"

"Three doctorates." He corrects and you roll your eyes playfully at that.

"Three doctorates. Fact of the matter is; I'm not a doctor but— I think I might be able to help."

You motion for him to lend you his hand, the one no longer holding his head, and he gives it to you willingly. Still feeling somewhat guilty when just that amount of contact does actually help him.

You know that you shouldn't profile your friends, but there's a reason why you're in the BAU and not anywhere else.

"So what are your symptoms?" You sense that this is a case that must be handled with a bit of humor, so you make that evident in your delivery.

He clears his throat and furrows his eyes, as if actually treating pretending that he was your patient before ultimately shaking his head with a tight-lipped smile.

"Actually, the symptoms aren't that simple." You hum at that, and get up to stand in front of him.

When he sees you get up though, he feels his hand instinctively tighten over yours. Worried that you were closing the conversation because he was being inarticulate, he goes to apologize but he feels yours squeeze him back before he can.

You notice a few stray strands of hair from your new vantage point. You carefully free both of your hands to tuck them behind his ears, and let one rest gently on the side of his face. Holding it in place, and allowing you to see his expression more clearly.

He feels a bit shy at the attention, but he finds himself leaning onto your hand with a confused expression. You breathe out in mirth and that only seems to confuse him even more.

"You better stop looking at me like that before I do something terrible."

He furrows his brows at that. Hand coming up to rest on top of yours. "Like what?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy." You continue to observe him, much to his chagrin. Assessing the situation before sighing out.

His hesitance from earlier told you everything you needed to know.

"Do you want to try telling me again, or would you like a diagnosis now?"

He looks into your eyes and sees that you're serious so he just nods slowly. Not really sure what to expect since there's no way that you could've gotten anything from him.

"My diagnosis says that you have 'intellectual schism syndrome.' Common to manifest in young geniuses like you. Characterized by a dependence on one's intelligence as their source of fulfillment, and yet simultaneously fear it as the root of their social isolation and relational difficulties."

You pause to gauge his expression once more before continuing.

"You may have been born with all the wonderful things that help you with this job, but you need to remember that's not the reason why people care about you. You can ask for help. Your worth as an individual isn't dependent on your perceived use."

You let the words hang in the air a bit before correcting yourself, "I mean, that's only when it comes to personal relationships. This job? Well—maybe we'll think about it before kicking you to the curb."

He lifts his face from your hold, still grasping your hand, before shaking his head. As if still not understanding something but he eventually finds the words the words to express that.

"That—That's not an actual syndrome; it's not recognized nor documented in any psychological or medical literature."

You scoff at that. "Yeah, I sure it hope it's not. I'm not a doctor, remember?"

He searches your face for an answer before breathing out incredulously. "Did you know that you have an incredible knack for saying the most terrible things?"

You smile at that. "Was I wrong?"

He think about the answer to that, before shaking his head 'no.' Because you're partially right, but he'd rather not correct you on what you're missing.

He looks down at your still intertwined hands, god he's been holding onto it for a while now, before quietly asking,

"Uh, how did you—?" He trails off. Not really knowing what he's asking.

You shrug. "You forget who you're working with. I notice these things, I notice you."

He flexes his eyebrows and thinks for a moment. "So what's your prognosis?"

You look to the corner of the small motel room to think before eventually settling on an answer.

"Only you can really find that out, Spencer."

You look back to see him already looking at you. "Your intelligence is an integral part of who you are, and that's why you're here. Your intellect isn't a barrier—it's a strength. So do what you will with that information."

"What if I can't find the answer?"

"Hm,"

Your legs are starting to get tired, so you move to get on the bed with him. Making sure that there's enough space for the both of you as you settle in. "You always have friends that can help you. Miss Jareau, Sir Morgan, Sir Hotchner, Miss—“

"Even you?"

The face he's making makes your chest feel tight, like there's a pressure building there and yet you don't know why. With his unusually shy behavior, and rounder eyes, it makes your usually impassive expression (to everyone else on the team, at least) soften.

"Especially me."

You pat the spot next to you as you recognize that you should've been asleep an hour ago. Telling Reid that you two should probably sleep so that you can make it tomorrow without being tired and he does just that.

"You don't think I rely on you too much?" You furrow your brows at that. Now looking at him from down on the bed.

"Not any more than you do sir Morgan."

He tries to see the point you're making but fails. So he turns to look at you.

"I don't really...rely on him."

"Exactly."

"...So I don't?"

"How about this," you can tell that being roundabout your answer isn't going to cut it, so you're going to have to switch gears.

"I don't think you do. But even if you did, I wouldn't mind. So if you find yourself ever needing, or wanting," you punctuate this with an earnest look into his eyes, "help from me specifically, in any way, at any time, just come to me—and ask for help. Say something like um, I don't know, uh—" you shake your head as you try to think.

'I need your help,' is too vague, you hear it all the time during cases. 'Could you do me a favor,' won't work either since it doesn't really excuse the both of you so—

"Can we look at this?", "I need you?"

You laugh. Actually laugh out loud at what you just heard. The words you just said practically blended into one another to the point where you don't even know who said what anymore, but that didn't really matter.

Spencer feels his face flush, and his volume increases due to his embarrassment. "Hey, I was just trying to—"

A loud knock is heard from the room's wall, followed by Morgan's voice.

"Newsflash, kids. Some of us are actually trying to sleep. Go argue about your theories later."

The boy-genius and you make eye contact before trying to stifle your laughter, you having a much harder time than the former before revisiting the conversation.

"You know what to tell me when you need me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Let's go to sleep."

You say goodnight, before turning your back to him so you can process what's going on. You wonder if the buzzing feeling you have would go away in time for an actual restful sleep.

You could use one on this case because it seems like the more you uncover, the more you're confused. Theories of all kinds swim in your head, ready to occupy your thoughts for a little while longer before hopefully sending you to a peaceful slumber.

Hotch is going to need you two ready and working.

And because of your nerves, you don't even notice Spencer turning his back to you too. Wondering if you had been feeling the same thing he was from the situation, from the contact, from the conversation, from everything.

Unlike you, he's for sure not getting any sleep.

[a/n] Every time I write for Spencer with this reader, he just can't catch a break-- Send in some ideas for the next part of the anthology if you'd like!! Like certain character interactions, dynamics, etc. I'd like to see what you're interested in seeing :DD

taglist: @crazychaoticizzy

Like my work? Consider tipping me!!

[rarastmblr]

“Minamoto Teru”

The Perfect Boy — Minamoto Teru

He's smart. Always perfect and answering correctly in academics.

Tests? Perfect. Quizzes? Perfect. Recitation? Perfect.

You can't help but be so grateful when he helps you out and tutors you in subjects that you're having a hard time with.

He's handsome, attractive. No wonder he has so many fans. I mean, who could resist such a handsome face?

His hair; Every strand was so soft to the touch that it felt like a gentle caress. You couldn't take your eyes off it and feel nothing but adoration for the golden hue that filled your vision.

The blonde tresses captivated your soul and forever imprinted itself inside your heart.

His eyes; The blue eyes sparkled like pools of sapphire, reflecting the sun in all of its brilliance. Every time you looked at them, there was a feeling of admiration and profound joy that you couldn't quite explain.

He is invested in his interests and engaging in conversation with him allows one to appreciate his positive outlook on life.

He takes action to bring his goals and dreams to fruition, and is resilient and self-sufficient in the face of adversity and challenge.

He has the poise and class to graciously accept every experience. He is encouraging and motivating of the people he loves and engages with.

He's kind. Some think that he's cruel when he rejects the confessions of the girls who have a crush on him.

But he isn't, not at all. He's not cruel, just straightforward but in a way you'll understand and not hate him for it. He'll apologize and then reject you.

He is caring, tender. He is honest about his feelings and empathizes with the struggles of his friends.

There's a reason to why you love Minamoto Teru but you can't seem to answer such a question when you are actually asked why.

It's because you can't pick which of the many things that Minamoto Teru has that makes you love him so much.

You watch him as he reads the contents of your love letter about your love for him.

As he finishes reading, he gives you a smile. You can't tell whether it's a smile of pity or if it's a sign that he accepts your love.

“I'm sorry—”

The first two words were enough for you to know what his response was.

That had happened years ago, if your memory was correct, maybe when you guys were still first years.

Ever since the confession, you guys have grown distant. From the occasional greetings in the halls to only pass by each other without making any eye contact.

You admit the sudden distance between your relationship was your fault. A day after the confession you were the one who would hide away from him out of embarrassment because you got rejected.

You avoided him like a plague.

Even when your classmates had told you that Teru was looking for you because he wanted to catch up with you and other things, you wouldn't go.

Even if it was Minamoto Teru himself who would walk towards you and try his best to start a conversation, you'd somehow be able to slip away from him.

Now, in second year, Minamoto Teru is still the perfect boy that you always admired ever since you guys first met.

I think back to when we were so close and I would wonder. What would have happened to us if the confession never happened. Would we have been more closer than we already were?

As the both of you pass by each other, a pair of blue eyes look back at the back of your figure. Once? No. Twice.

Unfortunately, you took no notice of the longing gaze.

A/n: This isn't really a long fic, I'm so sorry 🥹. I'm just adding plot to the reader and Teru's relationship. Man I'm a sucker for when the relationship has something like a distance and the guy is the one who is desperate to mend the relationship together again. Also I think I didn't really mention supernaturals/apparitions here 🫣 woopsy.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

— [ touch grass ] //

nerd!antisocial!pining!neo x fat!f!popular!reader; college au

CW: non-mutual pining, reader is fine with herself but aware of society’s beauty standards, nsfw, Neo is kind of a weirdo but we love him, meant to be a oneshot/imagine but might become more

dividers by Saradika

When you first meet Neo, you understandably think he hates your guts. Seems like he’s always glaring, and never really making eye contact. Which is fine, not everyone’s gonna like you, so you grant him distance.

You’re sweet, social, take up space. People might make fun of you for it, because fat girls aren’t supposed to be outgoing and happy, apparently, but for all those who look down on you, there are twice as many who love you. You have lots of friends, and he doesn’t.

Neo’s always by himself. Reading, or on the computer in those rare instances where he has to show his face in public. You can’t imagine anyone enjoying that; being alone for even a second makes you uncomfortable, so you don’t comprehend how he prefers it.

You try to set him up with your friend, even going so far as to introduce them in the library by dragging her over to his seat at the computer. He regards you wearily. The bags under his eyes have seen much better days, and you almost want to ask him, in your caring nature, if he’s sick or something.

Your friend, she’s just like him, prefers online over inperson, and you can already tell this was a horrible idea. Not only are they embarrassed, but you are, too, when you reflect later about how neither of them said one word as you basically babbled enough that even if they wanted to they couldn't have.

Now your friend is mad at you, and now you can tell Neo hates you even more. You try and apologize and he ignores you, favoring the keyboard and screen. Later that day, you drop your books and he watches from a distance as you pick them back up, glaring at you. He’s supposed to be your project partner and he doesn’t show up for lab

Then, he’s out of classes for the next two days. Okay, maybe he really is sick. Or, maybe he changed schools because you’re such a giant bothersome sore.

You’re thinking about the long apology you’re going to give him if you ever see him again—which is undoubtedly going to make things worse but you justcanthelpit—chewing on the tip of your eraser nervously, when he walks through the science lab door and sets his stuff next to your seat.

Despite the discourse, and your thoughts avalanching into a squirming pile of anxiety over the past few days, you beam at him. “Hi, Neo, I’m sorry about—“

He smiles and waves you off. “It’s fine, I had the flu.”

What he won’t say is…the flu was actually:

1. You on the picnic blanket outside in your shorts and tank top, laying down with your other friends and enjoying time between classes by giggling and poking at one another. 2. Your tits, plump and ripe, that even sweaters fail to make modest. 3. You pursing your lips and bending over the beaker, trying to pour the right amount of chemicals needed in order to not fuck up the mixture while looking at him helplessly with those pretty, pleading eyes—the ones that are always wet from your joy or compassion, the ones that prevent you from wearing mascara lest it be smeared down your apple cheeks before lunch time. 4. You, looking so soft and so touchable. So cluelessly fuckable. 5. You, caring about his wellbeing. Asking him about himself and trying to set him up on dates. He’ll gladly act like a charity case for your attention. 6. You, making him so hard and frustrated and flustered he has to run to the bathroom midday and afternoon just to tug some of the tension out of his cock. 7. You, the reason he can’t sleep. The reason he stays up all night writing and drawing and programming a computer program to mimic your likeness.

He took those two days off to recover from your newest stunt. To patch his heart back up and tear his cock apart thinking about how fucking lovely and hopeless you are, and how he just wants to bury himself in your soft, wet warmth and never come back to this shitty plane of existence again. “Oh, I’m glad you’re feeling better.” You touch his arm, just above the elbow, a comforting hand that makes him shudder from toes to hair tips as his mind immediately wonders what that sinfully soft feeling would be like on his chest, his cheek, his renewed, throbbing erection.

Well, fuck. And here he was thinking those two days off were actually going to help.

[vhstown]

miles away

— 1610!miles morales x gn!reader

summary: Long distance is hard — even more so when your boyfriend's mom is Rio Morales.

warnings: fluff, spanish that is hopefully right??? (pls feel free to correct if not)

word count: 2k

a/n: worst eboy known to man. another miles one-shot i thought of way too late at night lmao my boy miles is STRUGGLING somewhat edited

convention boy is online.

Miles was active: the cute boy you'd met at a Brooklyn science con last year and had been talking to for the past few months — your boyfriend? He might as well be, if it weren't for the absurd distance between you two. You almost missed the call icon with how fast you tapped it, buzzing with anticipation at the thought of speaking to him again; you hadn't talked properly in so long you almost thought he changed numbers.

Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing...

You stared at your own reflection, which was frowning back at you as the call rang for longer than usual. "Convention boy" (you'd definitely have to change that soon) was probably just busy, but your day had been infinitely boring, and you really wanted to talk to him. The both of you had chatted pretty much every day after you left Brooklyn, and despite the time difference, your calls went on for hours, making conversation about school, art, the science convention you were both forced to go to, how you almost got run over for the hundredth time — nothing and everything.

Miles probably knew more about you than your actual friends. You had jokes that nobody would be able to understand even if you tried explaining them, thousands pictures saved of each other, lots of random games you played together (that you always seemed to win somehow) and so many messages where you were flirting like you were in a middle school relationship; embarrassment was a foreign concept in your chat logs. The only thing you didn't have was... Miles himself.

He was in Brooklyn, probably the most exciting place right now. Maybe it was for the fact that Brooklyn had Spider-Man, or you were getting sick of living with your parents. Either way, you were glad you were getting out of here soon; your parents hadn't told you much, but you knew you were going to New York for school. That meant you'd be closer to Miles. Maybe you could even meet up — if Miles picked up, that is.

Beep, beep, beep!

The line went dead, and you were left staring at your own string of messages. They were read, but there was no response; he was ignoring you. Did he just... give up on you, or something? Was he no longer interested? Surely not... Should you try calling again?

He was offline now, and you flopped on your bed with a groan. It had been a whole week since you'd even texted — surely he'd let you know if something was up? It was late in New York right now, but that hadn't stopped him before. Maybe you'd try again tomorrow; he couldn't be available for you all the time.

That didn't stop you from being petty, though.

Missed voice call at 10:29PM

k Read 10:31PM

You gritted your teeth when you saw that it had been read, stopping yourself from typing another text as you rolled on your side, throwing your phone out of sight. Maybe you should ghost him — okay, you were definitely just being petty. He could still have a reason for being radio silent for so long that you just didn't know about.

The lack of his voice or even just a "hey" made you miss him, though, and the pillow you held just made your arms feel more empty than usual. You were being a little unreasonable, but you hadn't exactly had the best week. Maybe you should leave his contact name as it was, because right now it seemed like he didn't want to be anything more than some kid you met at a convention. And you thought he was supposed to be your boyfriend—

Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! You reached for your phone, a preview of your own face coming up on screen. "convention boy" — he was video calling you? That was weird; as much as you did video call, he was always reluctant to turn his camera on, and he never started them. He was always "on a run" or on low battery or something; maybe he wasn't today? You realised you'd been staring at your own face for too long, scrambling to fix yourself up a little and accept the call before you missed it.

Miles' face appeared on screen; he had his headphones on, brows drawn together and eyes fixed somewhere else for a moment, before he looked back at his phone. He gave you the tiniest wave and that wonky smile that always made your stomach flip.

"Hey," you muttered, hating the fact that you probably didn't sound as mad as you wanted to be. "What's up with you? You okay?"

Miles just nodded silently, giving you another smile that looked more like a grimace before glancing off to the side again. Weird.

"...Are you sure?" you asked again, raising an eyebrow at him. Whatever Miles was trying to convince you of was completely thrown out the window, his lips pressing together in debate before he mouthed something. You couldn't make it out.

"Uh, what?" You squinted at the screen, your brows drew together even more in confusion.

"I'm GROUNDED," he mouthed again, his own brows raising to emphasise what he was trying to say. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

"You're GROUNDED?" you mouthed back, trying to keep the teasing smile from spreading across your face.

It didn't help, Miles' eye twitching a little in embarrassment as he mouthed back "YES!"

"So you're like, grounded grounded?" you continued to mouth, making Miles narrow his eyes at you. "Like, actually grounded?"

He didn't seem to entertain your mockery, just crossing his arms at you and moving away on his chair. His phone appeared to be propped up on his desk, and you caught a glimpse of his textbooks in the corner.

You gave up, rolling your eyes. "Fine, fine, but you can't like, speak at all?"

He shook his head, before you heard his door creaking open. The camera immediately went black as he shoved his phone underneath the textbooks before you had a chance to say anything.

"Mijo, what are you still doing up?" You could recognise the voice as his mom's. Oh boy.

"Uh, just studyin', ma." You could tell he was lying by the way he was speaking, but you stayed silent despite his headphones, hoping his mother didn't catch on.

"You better be studying Español, then." Miles laughed awkwardly in response, but you couldn't tell if it was a joke or a threat. He'd only ever referred to you as a "friend" to his mom, so you turned off your camera just in case, hoping Miles had some God to pray to in the mean time.

"Yeah, uh, estoy estudiado—"

"Estudiando", she corrected, with rapid execution. You decided she was scarier in Spanish, and Miles seemed to as well, murmuring something in apology you couldn't catch.

You decided to look through your notifications while Miles was keeping his mom at bay to see that he actually had texted you back after you sent that very creative message.

sry im grounded

i dint mean 2 ingore u

dnt be mad pls :(

He must've resorted to calling you. At least your pettiness had worked.

"Estoy estudiando..." (I'm studying...) you heard Miles continue carefully. "And tired, so I'll go to bed soon."

"That light better be off, niño," (boy) she replied, and you heard the door faintly creak again. A few moments passed before you heard Miles' chair move and the door very quietly shutting all the way before he retrieved his phone and looked down at it from his lap. You had no idea what on Earth Miles had done to get grounded, but the way his mom spoke to him and the worried expression he was wearing right now didn't tell you anything good.

Miles looked back at his door for a second longer before picking up his phone, hesitantly preparing to say something. If it weren't for your own tension, you would've probably laughed at the way his face looked from that angle.

"Why's your camera off?" you heard him whisper, his worried expression still stuck in place.

"Do you really need to see my face?" You decided to tease anyway, despite his predicament, getting a sigh out of him.

"Ba—" He winced as he caught himself, eyes automatically trailing to his door again. Miles was lucky he couldn't see your amused grin. Baby? Babe? Hopefully not basta—

"Please?" he mouthed, almost looking hurt.

You turned your camera on so quickly it was almost embarrassing. You also prayed it was dark enough for him not to see the blush burning away at your cheeks; you just couldn't say no when he looked at you like that.

"Thank you," he nearly whispered. He let out another breath, shaking his head and smiling before mouthing something you couldn't make out.

"Huh?" you asked way too many times as he tried to mumble it a little louder. Both of you were too stubborn to end the call, so it was like playing charades, but with someone who really sucked at charades. He was pointing to his face, and then at you, and then trying to draw it out in the air.

"Just text me," you sighed, letting out a slight chuckle at his defeated expression.

you look cute

Your stomach flipped, cheeks tingling with warmth again as you stared at the text message for far too long, almost forgetting Miles was in the corner of your screen.

"...Thanks, you too," you mumbled out, hoping you didn't sound too weird over the call. "You sure you don't wanna just text...?"

na

wnt2 see ur face

n hear u speak

A part of you wanted to decline right now out of sheer self respect; you were so hot in the face by his... simple words that the darkness of your room definitely couldn't hide how flustered you were.

"Fine," you murmured, trying to keep your eyes on the screen as he watched you. "Can't you at least try to text properly, though?"

Miles frowned, and you could hear the gentle tap of his fingers on the screen as another text followed.

tryin 2 keep up w u gimme a break

The two of you shared a smile before you talked for a bit through this awkward system. It was good enough for now; at least Miles didn't have to watch his back so often.

ur cute

"You already said that..."

cutie

"Dude." Miles seemed to forget you could see him, sporting the biggest, stupidest smile on his face as he scrambled to keep texting you.

dont call me dude

my pride

thought we were passed that

past*

convention boy is typing...

hol on gank is txting me

"Gank...?"

romm mmate

You decided to let it be, watching Miles' cheeks puff with air as he switched over to text his "romm mmate". It was taking a little long and you didn't want to start missing him when he was right in front of you (albeit just on your screen) so you decided to talk anyway.

"Uh, there's something I wanted to tell you," you started, and Miles' eyes flicked upwards for a second, kind of like if you were actually sat opposite him.

"I'm moving states soon — for school." He raised an eyebrow, the tapping of his fingers slowing down a little. "New York. I don't know where exactly, but I should be getting an email soon? I was thinking maybe we could like... meet."

Miles stopped texting entirely, eyes wide as a grin spread across his face.

"After you get uh, un-grounded."

The smile faded just as fast. His eyes fell in defeat, lips twisting awkwardly as he got back to texting "Gank".

"I haven't checked my emails in a while actually, let me see..."

You scrolled through your email— well, it was a shared email (an email you often deleted a lot of school-related stuff from.) An email you'd missed ages ago caught your eye; you assumed it was from the school you were supposed to go to, the sender titled "Ms. Weber."

"We would like you welcome you with open arms to our academy..." The email bored you with its formalities and packing list and many many flourished attachments. You didn't read through it properly — most likely because you didn't want to face the fact that you might actually miss your home here.

What caught your attention, though, was the school name; it was in Brooklyn. Miles was in Brooklyn.

"Miles — the school's in Brooklyn, that's even better!" You couldn't hide your giddy smile, Miles' eyebrows raising in interest as so many thoughts swirled through your head. You could actually meet up again. Maybe you could even go on dates that weren't to do with science conventions. Maybe you could actually be a couple.

Bzzt! Miles' text appeared at the top of your screen.

what school is it?

"Uh..." You paused, unintentionally dramatically as you checked the name again. "Brooklyn Visions Academy."

"WHAT?!"

Miles' mouth went agape as you saw him roll back on his chair, bringing his face towards the camera to look at you almost hysterically. You were about to ask why he was so taken aback before—

"¡MILES! ¡¿CON QUIÉN ESTÁS HABLANDO TAN TARDE?!" (WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO THIS LATE?!)

Maybe your meet-up would have to wait a little longer.

🕸️🔭🎧

omg this was ... longer than expected anyways i could not get this idea out of my head haha i wrote it partly for myself and my friend chewy (who helped me w the summary ily i suck at em) and now its for u! hope u enjoyed (also if the spanish is weird pls correct i literally take spanish as a subject but i suck)

reblogs appreciated as always i get so happy when ppl reblog lol <3 catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

[constantcrying]

Anger is a secondary emotion.

m!yandere x gn!reader

TW: obsession, some violence

This'll be my first post! If you have any feedback, I hope you'll share it.

He's trying. Honestly he is. He's putting in the work, biting his tongue and keeping his fists clenched. He'll never pick another jealous fight or cause a scene for the rest of your lives. He'll stop taking souvenirs from your home after every visit. Maybe he'll even go to therapy and unpick the fucked up weave of his childhood to find the origin of his every maladaption. Who knows, he might come out of this rough patch a better human being.

Promises between the two of you are worth something. You always say what you mean, do what you say. That consistency is another thing he loves about you, another one of the countless reasons he couldn't bear to lose you. It was why the look on your face that day had terrified him, as you confessed you were sick of his shit and struggling to be his friend—you meant it when you said you would go no-contact because he was obsessive.

It was bad enough being relegated to a mere friend after two years of adoring you. What was he supposed to do if you left him altogether? As much as he hated sharing your time and attention with the rest of the world, he couldn't bear to lose his humble slice of it. Before he met you, he hadn't cared so deeply about anything or anyone. He hadn't known what to do when he fell for you, except sink his teeth in and never let go.

Just the thought of life without you made him so sick, he fell to his knees on the spot. He fought his shaky voice and managed to utter an apology, begging for a chance to correct himself.

He isn't good with humility or patience or prostration. But he is honest. He does love you. He'll do anything for you, even act right.

You knew him well enough to believe his words. You also (rightly) pitied him. In the end you agreed that if he cleaned up his act, you wouldn't cut him off.

For now, he's on probation, seeing you once every eight days or so. He's not strong enough to go longer than that without being near you. In between those pressure control days, he journals, meditates, and reads self-help books. He'll even exercise more than he ever did before, because studies claim that it helps with emotional regulation. He thinks it's all stupid. He hopes it works and you think better of him. He continues this way for months.

The result? He isn't biting off your male friends' heads anymore. He isn't trying to monopolize your time. He doesn't obsessively check your location and text you like crazy. A touchy friend says hi to you at a cafe, and he doesn't get angry at them for interrupting and hugging you, he just says hi back. It's actually pleasant to hang out together in public again. For you, it's like the friend you made so long ago has actually come back. You don't ever say it, but he thinks you might believe he's actually over you.

He forgives you for that, and for the threat of leaving. He knows your peace is important to you, so you just said what you thought was best. And him...he'll stop with the outbursts, bury all of the feelings he's wrestling with. See? He changes for you. How many of your ex friends and lovers can say the same?

But there's nothing you can do about your missing possessions ex post facto. He still struggles, like anyone with bad habits. There's always an urge to come closer to you, to cradle you to his chest, to kiss you stupid. Just...let him keep the chapstick and the t-shirts, at least. He can tide himself over with the lingering scent of your favorite products.

And, of course, the anger remains simmering under his skin. It comes in waves, he notices, after every doubt and concern. Your casual smile at another person, for a split second, makes his gut churn before the heat of rage washes over him. After he sends a text you don't respond to, his heart sinks, and then it catches fire. He's always scared first. Maybe the journaling isn't so stupid if it can show him these patterns.

The problem is, he can't kill the source of his fear unless he can have you all to himself. That's not happening anytime soon.

So he's still struggling his way through your time together. You hang out like normal people, having dinner at a new restaurant before strolling down the street on a cool summer evening. Almost no one is outside, creating the sense that you two exist in your own little pocket dimension. You decide to go down a little alleyway, a shortcut that never presents any problems.

Somehow, a throw-away comment of his makes you laugh, and he wants to take the sound and inject it into his veins. The glory of your approval is bittersweet. He dreads the way this night will end: with you going to your place instead of coming home with him. It is all he can do, not to break the unspoken barrier between you. He wants to be optimistic. He wants to say that it's enough if you're happy, beside him right now.

As if you couldn't be happy elsewhere. As if he could be.

He can't handle thinking this way anymore, so he looks away. Just for a moment. Just to take some breaths and be something close to functional.

That's his big mistake.

The second you cry out, he turns back. You've been knocked to the ground by some staggering man, who trips over your leg and lands against a trash can. He must have come from the bar down the road because he reeks of bottom-shelf liquor.

"Son of a bitch!" The man growls. "Watch it! Watch where you're fucking going! You think you own the fucking street?"

"Fuck you!" You respond, trying to push yourself up off the ground. You hiss and stop, bringing your hand up to see that the palm is a scraped mess.

The drunk man mumbles some more curses at you and, in a fit of dionysian inspiration, kicks you.

It's not a hard blow. He's hammered, and totally out of shape besides. And maybe he never meant to hurt you at all—maybe he's just being childish and weird, his inhibitions drowned by a night of heavy drinking.

It doesn't matter to your friend.

His body has moved, he realizes, as he stares down at a pulpy mess. It used to be a face. His knuckles are raw, split from overuse. It feels like nothing at all. You're hurt, though, and the perpetrator is still breathing, so he needs to do something about that.

Without a hand gripping his collar, the drunk man splatters on the ground. He doesn't have the wherewithal to protect himself from further attacks, so with no resistance, your friend can just swing his foot into a perfectly vulnerable stomach. He does. He does it again. And again. And in the middle of this, even in his high-running emotions, he finds a sense of clarity that he's rarely afforded. Finally, someone pays the price for touching you. What a relief it is to have something nice and solid absorbing all the rage that he's always stuffing down.

You have apparently been calling his name nonstop. He only notices now as he's being yanked back by the arm. Like a spell is wearing off, he hears your voice. You sound far away, at first, the way you do in dreams. As he becomes aware of his pounding heart and aching knuckles, your muffled voice becomes clear.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop! You'll kill him!"

He's obedient, if you recall, so he stops. He turns to you, panting and shaking out his hand. Strangely, you flinch and back up. Your eyes are wide, your mouth pressed shut.

You've...never looked at him that way. He's irritated and embarrassed you, but nothing he's done has ever scared you.

He should worry about this, but he can't help smiling. You're so cute when you're frightened. You belong in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls you into him and squeezes you tight. As much as you do tremble, there's not an ounce of resistance from you as he does this. You are having the same epiphany is him right now—that he would never hurt you, that anyone who did would pay sevenfold.

But while he is imagining himself as your knight, you're thinking of all the strangers and friends who may be unkind, however briefly, to you. You're thinking of how sharp this man's memory is and how casually you complained about exes or classmates or coworkers when you thought everything was okay.

"It's okay. You're safe," he whispers into your hair, relishing the close contact.

He's going to stay good for you. It'll be easy now, knowing where to put all the excess energy.

[sophieinwonderland]

hey sophie. there's been a lot of sysmeds fakeclaiming my mutual @/snowchester-system for being a RAMCOA survivor and pro-endo. i thought sysmeds liked dx'd survivors

I got this ask over a week ago. I wrote up this draft the same day but I held off on posting it. Snowchester has now been revealed to be an anti-endo bait account organized by a former r/systemscringe member.

This isn't at all surprising to me.

Below is what I wrote at the time but never posted:

----------

I'm sorry. I'm not going to be weighing in on this.

As much as I want to stand by survivors in general, that account hasn't been up to two weeks and I'm seeing more red flags than a Soviet parade.

I would be suspicious of the claim to be diagnosed with ASPD at 15 when it's in the diagnostic criteria that you can't be diagnosed if you're under 18.

They claim that this is because their team decided they were a special case... but does that happen? Do doctors just decide to flat out ignore the criteria for a disorder in the DSM and diagnose it anyway even when the criteria isn't met? Because I've never heard of this happening.

The reason you don't diagnose certain disorders in minors is because symptoms of personality disorders could be things you grow out of. And especially if you're talking about someone who was literally just removed from a traumatizing situation, any rational person would realize that's likely to contribute to their behavior. The RAMCOA history should never be a reason to say "this is actually a super special case and we need to fast track their ASPD diagnosis." It should be a sign that you need to slow down and give them time away from their abusers to actually grow and process their trauma before diagnosing them with a lifelong personality disorder.

But fine, doctors are human, and humans are fallible. Maybe they shouldn't ignore a disorder's diagnostic criteria but I suppose it's technically possible they did anyway and diagnosed this when they shouldn't. Concerningly though, the user claims their "team" decided this, meaning multiple doctors were in on this bad decision.

I also find the mention of being diagnosed with "highly complex dissociative identity disorder" to be a bit suspicious as well since that's not a medical term. But again, let's say it's fallible doctors. It's technically possible they picked up a community term and just ran with it.

I mean, "multiple personality disorder" was never in the DSM, but it was commonly called that by doctors. (It was just called "multiple personality" in the DSM. Calling it "multiple personality disorder" created the weird misconception that it was a personality disorder when it was always categorized as a dissociative disorder. And I will find any excuse to mention this that I can because it's my favorite piece of DID trivia.) So yeah, technically possible.

Meanwhile, they're in the US witness protection program in Mexico. Something which, I suppose, could happen in the absolute most extreme cases if the feds decided nowhere was safe in the US, but is pretty difficult to setup since it involves cooperation between multiple nations now. Which is why witness protection doesn't usually relocate to other countries.

The fact that they're confessing to being in witness protection means they're already ignoring witness protection guidelines. Yeah, even if you are on an anonymous account, do you really think a dedicated hacker couldn't find a way to track you down?

What's worse is them mentioning that they're in contact with some of the other kids from the same cult, because THEY REALLY SHOULDN'T BE! Especially if this is an organization that is so sprawling and dangerous that Witness Protection moved them to another country, something which Witness Protection wouldn't normally do.

And at this point, I'd kind of prefer if they were lying. Because either they've made everything up... Or they are violating their witness protection deal and endangering not just their own life, but the lives of the other survivors they've kept in contact with. Because if somebody did track them down, they could then access their other social media accounts to track down the others.

----------

So that was the end of my draft as it was written. (The only edits I made being to add emphasis to certain words and correct grammar.)

I wonder if I did the right thing by not posting it. If I had, I might have been able to keep people from buying into very blatant lies.

But... I was concerned about the 1% chance.

What if they weren't lying? What if this was a real person who just happened to have literally the worst doctors in the world who blatantly ignored the diagnostic criteria of their patient? Who diagnosed them with disorders that were community-made terms? What if Snowchester really was just that stupid as to reach out to the other children from their cult? Because let's face it... kids can be really stupid sometimes.

Maybe the reason the story sounded so unbelievable wasn't because it wasn't true, but because literally everyone involved was just that unbelievably stupid and incompetent. It could happen. Sometimes in life, you run into people, even those with medical degrees and those that should be professional, who commit malpractice or are ignorant of things they shouldn't be.

So I held off, not wanting to risk fakeclaiming someone who could be telling the truth, however incredibly slim the possibility was.

Now, the problem with liars is that it can be incredibly hard to take anything they say seriously.

They claim that they organized this with u/Pomme-Pomme, the former owner of r/systemscringe. Is this true? I have no idea. It seems impossible to tell for certain. This could be yet another lie to cause infighting in r/systemscringe, since Snowchester seems to just be in it to create chaos.

But if they are telling the truth now, I just want to take a moment to comment on how hilarious the reasoning is for them going rogue from that group!

Hun, if you believe RAMCOA is an antisemitic conspiracy theory... why were you citing the ISSTD?

You do realize they're the group responsible for the so-called conspiracy theory, right?

If this is true, this is such an epic r/leopardsatemyface moment. Of course there was a falling out from you citing the group of doctor that you people have been demonizing and painting as conspiracy theorists the last year!!! How are you surprised by this???????

Anyway, this just leaves me with one final question for the anon. A question I've had in the back of my mind for the past week.

Was this you, Snowchester?

Because it feels like you. Or maybe someone from the same group.

On the off chance this was just a random person fooled by Snowchester, I'm sorry it turned out how it did...

But this ask just feels like an attempt at baiting me into this conflict.

And if it was... were you disappointed when I didn't respond?

You should know that I've ran my own anti-endo parody blog and have infiltrated an r/systemscringe Discord server. If you confused my willingness to give the benefit of the doubt with gullibility and picked me for an easy mark, I'm sorry to inform you that you've sorely misjudged me.

[thatfreshi]

"Matters of the Heart" (Uni AU P. 14)

tw - mentions of abuse, athletic injuries

Another week passes, and things slowly return to normal. Halsin texts you every morning and night, always saying sweet things, as if his words are coated in sugar and honey. Astarion has started to perk up again, but he has stopped telling you anything about work, especially anything about Cazador. He takes all of his phone calls privately, and hides any accumulated wounds carefully. After that morning, seeing you cry over him, he can't give you another reason to be upset. At some point, he must have talked to Gale, because the two seem to have a silent understanding, although the artist never approaches you about the subject. This Saturday, Karlach has her first meet of the year, and your little ragtag group of friends has been invited.

"Oh Goddess, she needs to wear those shorts more. I can't! I just can't, she's too much!"

Of course, Shadowheart can't go one second around Karlach without thirsting.

"Oh, that's her girlfriend?"

Halsin came too, a great excuse for the two of you to see each other again. Not much has occurred, and he's obviously very charismatic, but you haven't been getting that butterflies in your stomach feeling. Despite this, you try your best to give him a solid chance, knowing it's very possible the recent stress has gotten the better of you.

"Yeah, they're quite cute together."

You're short with him, not on purpose, but because you're focused on other things: your project presentation coming up soon, an upcoming Halloween party, and the fact that Astarion has seemed quite fidgety all day. You move to whisper to him.

"You alright? You seem anxious."

He doesn't respond, instead giving a small thumbs up, not making eye contact with you.

"I think they're about to start."

Gale gets everyone focused back on the match that's about to start. Karlach is going against another tall buff woman from an opposing school, and the fight begins slowly, the two trying to figure out the other's plan. At some point, they get repositioned for going out of bounds, but Coach Zariel takes Karlach aside before the match continues again.

"That's weird. They already talked everything through beforehand, she was texting me about it."

Shadow picks up on the weird feeling that arises, and the rest of you follow suit. While watching the two of them talk, it's clear that tempers are rising, until your friend backs down, and goes back to the match. Things continue normally, until the two begin grappling. In between grabs and attempted chokes, it's hard to see exactly what's going on. That is, until the opposing woman yelps in pain, and the ref separates the two. The ref then proceeds to fight with your school's coach.

"What in the hell is going on?"

Wyll is just as confused as the rest of you, unsure as to why things ended so fast, or why there's now an argument going on. Unlike Karlach usually is, she seems cold, and doesn't go to check on her opponent. Instead, the ref ends up giving her the point, and eventually the win, because the other woman can't fight due to severe pain. When you all meet up with her afterward, Karlach is distraught.

"What happened out there babe?"

Shadowheart is immediately at her side.

"I don't know. Coach, she pulled me aside, said I should for a spinal twist. I told her I thought that was an illegal move, but she just kept pushing it, so I did it. I guess the ref couldn't prove it though. Feels terrible, I hope she's alright."

"Why would Zariel even tell you to do that?"

"I don't know... but I don't like it."

The rest of you leave the two new lovebirds to talk about it alone. You turn your attention to Astarion.

"Did you still want to study later?"

"I would, but something came up. I have to leave soon actually."

You don't realize it, but a wave of sadness covers your face, apparent to both him and Halsin.

"I might see you tonight though?"

"Oh, Halsin and I actually have another date planned."

"Right, of course."

"Actually Tav, can we talk about that?"

You nod as Astarion takes his leave, silently reprimanding himself for being so pathetic over you and this thing with Halsin. He's like a hoarder when it comes to your time, obsessed with taking every moment of yours that can be shared, and Halsin has gotten in the way of that. Between how much he's had to work, it's hard to find time to see each other.

"What is it?"

Halsin has taken you aside.

"Listen, I've been having a wonderful time-"

"Me too! It's been great getting to know you."

You try to smile at him, but it fades when you realize he isn't saying it in a good way.

"I... I think your heart may be elsewhere though."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe you don't see it yet, but that 'best friend' of yours?"

"Oh, Astarion? No, it's not like that at all."

"Maybe not now, but the way he looks at you? Something will come of it soon, and I won't be in the middle of it. It pains me, because you're so incredible, but I just can't get between other people."

"Halsin, are you breaking this off over some petty jealousy? Because, even if Astarion were into me like that, which he isn't, that doesn't mean I'm into him."

"Would you be though? If he was interested?"

You hesitate.

"My point has been made. Perhaps we can be good friends Tav? But in the meantime, take care."

Just like that, he's gone, and you're unsure what to do. You don't feel like crying, but you definitely don't feel good either.

"You alright Tav?"

Gale comes to your side.

"No... no, I'm not."

"Did the nature fanatic break things off? Thought he was too much of a sweetheart for that."

"He said he doesn't want to get between me and Astarion."

"Oh, is that so? Are you interested in our albino friend?"

"I... I don't know."

No one had presented the concept to you before. After that first encounter with him and the night at the diner, you assumed friendship was all it could ever be. You blocked off that possibility in your head. Besides, does he even have the space for a relationship? He of course, had sex with you that evening at the party, but you didn't even know each other. He wasn't present either, which makes things more complicated. Is that even the kind of thing he's looking for, a lover?

"Well, I'd figure that out then. Matters of the heart are better when resolved."

"Yeah, I guess you're right Gale."

The events of last week paint across your mind again, his drunken stupor, how quiet he's been since. You remember sobbing at the side of his bed, clawing in your mind for any way to get him out of this situation. Before you go too far into the memory, you come back to reality.

"Gale?"

"Hm?"

"You haven't told anyone about last week right? You know."

"Right, that evening. No. Although. Astarion didn't tell me much, just that he had it handled at it wasn't my business to share. Suppose he's right. You though, you know way more than I do."

"What makes you say that?"

"You eyes. They're full of concern every time you look at him, like something is permanently wrong. Of course, it's not my place to pry, but we've all started to become rather fond of him. I'd hate to see something bad happen all because he wants to keep his secrets."

"Trust me Gale, me too."

[hellsgreatestfashionista]

((Disclaimer: All of this post is off character.))

"Wouldn't it be cool if Husk gambled with Valentino for Angel's-" No. It wouldn't. In this essay I will-

Wait. Let me give a bit of context. So, many of you reading this don't know that but when I feel like it, I like picking apart details about my obsessions and writing metas on them. That is actually majority of my content for my main blog, although that's mostly A:tla metas, with a few (two, I think) Velvette ones that I've already linked in my pinned post. I decided I wanted to write a Hazbin Meta (I was motivated by some fanfics I wrote and done interactions between @angie-long-legs and their tormentor anon), so I thought it'd be best to post it here. Here's the part where I put a title.

On Husk winning Angel's soul...

That felt good. I've missed this. So, moving on, no, I don't want to watch Husk gamble with Valentino for Angel's soul. And there's multiple reasons as to why. And I'm gonna list them all.

Staring of strong, Angel Dust is an addict, and he's addicted to Valentino. Valentino's pheromone to be exact. Just like with most addicts, if you take away the thing he is addicted to, he won't react too well. Who couldn't have thought. Killing Valentino or forcing Angel Dust to cut off contact with him by removing his soul from the moth's hands and locking him up at the hotel to detox would not end well. All the agony of the withdrawal that he was not mentally prepared for or agreed to will manifest to hatred towards the one responsible for this.

In the gambling scenario, that would be Husk. And hatred rooted in heartache is not the dynamic these two characters are going to follow, as we've already been told by Viv herself.

Additionally, I could see Angel Dust returning to Valentino, contract or not, simply because at this point in the show, he's not ready to go clean, not from Val's stuff, at least. It's highly probable that he doesn't even think it possible. And detoxing is hard like an alpha in a rut babes. If Angel Dust does not put his mind to it and Husk makes this call for him instead, he will not be able to commit to it. He will slip right back into that pattern. He has the ability to escape Val, by not showing up at the studio. As we know from episode 6, Valentino can only do whatever he wants in the studio. And as it was established in earlier episodes, Angel can just not return his boss' texts and not show up.

It's not the terms of the contract that prevent Angel from escaping Valentino, it's his addiction. Which is why simply breaking their contract won't be enough. In fact, by letting us know the terms of the contract, the show essentially tells us "Yeah, Angel can walk. He just doesn't want to. Not yet, at least." His addiction is the only thing keeping him there. So to escape, he must make the decision to put the effort required to go clean, and no one can drag that out of him. Husk gambling for his soul won't work. Husk can't save Angel in this situation. He must save himself. And when that happens, it's going to be an extremely important moment character growth for him.

Other than that, despite how much he wants us to think that, Valentino is not stupid. He understands people. In less than a quarter of an hour, and with less than 3 direct interactions, he got a good enough reading on Charlie to know he couldn't possibly make her go away by himself, so he got Angel to do it. He understood that that's her weak spot and utilized it.

All things considered, he'd be smart enough to not take the gamble. Husk doesn't have anything to offer him. He's not longer an overlord, he had no souls that are important to Valentino, to hold them over the moth's head and coax him into a game. He doesn't even have his own soul to bet. He has nothing Valentino would want. So even if winning Angel's soul was an good way to go about their characters and dynamics (which it's not), Valentino would not accept that gamble, because he had literally no reason to.

And here's where I put my signature mets catchphrase...

Thus proven.

[talkintrashcann]

Campout - Xavier Thorpe [pt.3]

summary: the friendgroup is going on a camping trip and miscalculated how many tents they needed, so now you have to share a tent with your least favorite person.

warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, multiple parts, fear of drowning

word count: 1.8k

a/n: im terribly sorry for disappearing for about a month, i didn't mean to be gone for so long. my life has been put upside down for the past couple weeks and ive had to figure some things out about my future so writing wasn't my priority at that time, but ive got it all figured out now (for the most part) so im not planning on taking so long for the next chapter. i promise the story is actually getting somewhere this time !

[part 1] [part 2] [part 4] . . .

———————

Acting like nothing had happened earlier today, everyone was sitting by the campfire munching on their food while they all ignored the obvious tension between you and Xavier. They were used to situations like these by now, but for some reason it felt as if something in the two of you changed. You used to give each other angry glares and held those for hours, whereas now you can't even make eye contact for longer than 5 seconds. The tension was slowly shifting throughout this trip, and there was no way of stopping it.

"Hey Enid, what have you got in store for us tomorrow? Please tell me it's not as exhausting as today's hike.", Kent caught everyone's attention.

"That's a surprise. I don't want anyone to complain about the plans I made again, so you'll just have to wait and see. But I'm sure you will all love it, we're gonna have so much fun !", the girl that couldn't hide her excitement said. It was obvious that the group was a bit skeptical about Enid's interpretation of fun, but hopefully this time she's right. What's the worst that could happen?

For the rest of the night everyone was singing along to some campfire songs while Divina was playing the guitar, for just a moment you forgot everything that happened today. You loved moments like these, just you and your friends enjoying each other's company while singing riptide at the top of your lungs. This was the exact reason why you said yes to this trip, these were times you wished would never be over. But all nice things must come to an end, and soon everyone disappeared to their tent once more. Surprisingly enough your tent was quiet for once, neither of you wanting to speak to another. Maybe because you were simply too tired from today's exhausting hike, falling asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow.

Waking up pretty early the next day, you realized you were the first one to be awake. You opened your eyes and turned around to find Xavier laying not so far away from you, a strand of his long hair covering his eyes. He looked quite handsome like this, sadly enough he wasn't always this quiet and peaceful. Remembering what he did to you yesterday, you got up with a smirk as you thought about your great plan to get him back somehow. Sneaking out of the tent as quiet as possible, you grabbed a cup that someone left near the campfire and filled it with lake water. Already giggling to yourself as you walked back to the tent with the cup in your hands, careful not to spill too much water from it already. And just like that, you threw the cup with water over Xavier's head.

Waking up confused and in shock, he looked over to see you sitting next to him dying of laughter. He on the other hand was definitely not laughing with the little prank you pulled on him, instead he pushed himself up and dragged you out of your shared tent. Picking you up in his arms and carrying you towards the lake, you quickly realized what his intentions were.

"You're gonna regret doing that to me.", he said with his deep morning voice. You'd never admit this but you'd be lying if you said he didn't sound a little hot with that voice, or maybe more than just a little.

"Nonono, please don't Xavier.", you tried to convince him not to drop you in the lake.

"Please, I'm begging you.", desperately trying to change his mind you tightly held on to him as you were getting closer and closer to the lake. The word begging caught Xavier's attention, surprised to hear how much you're willing to do just so he wouldn't drop you into the shallow water. Of course he noticed your tight grip on him too, figuring this was more than just something you didn't like. He could even see tears forming in the corner of your eyes, making him feel bad all of a sudden. Seeing you annoyed was like music to his ears, but realizing he caused you actual suffering felt so wrong. He never thought hearing you beg would feel everything but satisfying. Right before you reached the lake, he slowly put you back down on your feet without saying a word. As soon as your toes hit the ground you ran back to the tent and stayed there until it was time to leave for Enid's big surprise.

After a long and not so calming drive you finally reached today's destination, Kent hurrying out of the car the second you made it. His stomach was a little sensitive and all the turns in the mountains didn't help with that at all, but Enid's surprise definitely made him feel better.

"Okay, it's time to reveal the big surprise... We're going kayaking!!", Enid yelled out and the others jumped up with pure excitement. You on the other hand felt your stomach drop as you thought about how terribly wrong this could go. You were terrified of drowning and would much rather avoid anything that could lead to that, so you weren't exactly fond of the thought to go kayaking. But you never told anyone about this, not even your best friend, and you most definitely didn't want anyone to find out about this. You remembered how Enid said she didn't want to hear any complaints about today, so you tried to hide your anxiety building up to not ruin everyone's day but it felt as if your heart was beating outside of your chest.

"All the kayaks are for two people so let's pair up with our tent buddy and get ready to race!"

"We are so winning this.", Ajax spoke while showing everyone his winner pose.

"You don't have a chance against us, Serpent.", Bianca said as she leaned against Kent.

You didn't pay any mind to what the others were saying, too busy trying to process the whole facing-your-biggest-fear thing. While the group was so focused on fighting over who's going to win this race, Xavier was looking at you this entire time. He noticed how anxious you looked and couldn't help but think back about what happened at camp earlier, aware that you're trying to hide something from him. Not wanting to bother you with everyone else still being here, he decided to leave you alone for a bit until the others were gone.

Before you even know, all your friends had left off in their kayak and it was now your turn. Shaking on your legs as you took a couple of deep breaths before stepping into the kayak, Xavier following soon after. He wanted to win this race, hell he wants to win at everything. But he had a feeling he wasn't winning this time, at least not in the way he had hoped for.

"If we want to win this race we better start paddling now."

Xavier was really pushing you over the edge right now. All you needed was a couple more seconds to mentally prepare yourself, but he couldn't even give you that. Ignoring his existence completely, you once again tried to calm down. But that calmness didn't stay for long.

"Can you start moving already? I don't wanna get behind on the others and I'm definitely not planning on doing all the work by myself."

His complaining only fueled your anxiety more and more, ready to burst any moment now. You couldn't help but panic, needing to get out of this kayak and off the water this instant. Unfortunately your kayak had already drifted off a little too far from the shore for you to just get up and walk back. Feeling hopeless and scared, you couldn't help but cry as you were looking for a way to get out of the unsteady kayak.

Xavier froze in his spot as he saw you cry in front of him, he didn't understand what was happening. He might not know what you're so afraid of, but what he was certain of was that your fear was very much real and you needed to calm down asap. Except, you weren't calming down at all. The tears kept rolling down your cheeks, your breathing was unstable and you were shaking so much that the kayak started shaking too. You looked at your reflection in the water, trying to see how deep it was but your tears blurred your vision.

Something in his mind clicked, he needed to get you back to shore immediately. So without any hesitation he jumped out of the kayak, the water coming up to his chest, and picked you up in his arms. He had you cling to him as he carried you over the water, arms tightly wrapped around his neck and nails slightly digging into his skin out of pure fear. It didn't bother him though, he'll allow you to do so if it gives you a more secure feeling.

He didn't pay any mind to the salesman desperately yelling at him to bring back his kayak, to be completely honest he couldn't give two fucks at the moment. All he cared about was you. Yes, you. He couldn't explain why he felt the need to help you for once, he didn't even understand it himself in all honesty. And it sure as hell didn't make any sense to you either, the guy that tries to make your life a living hell suddenly starts being nice to you. There must be something hidden behind his caring behavior, he'll probably strike you with another rude action later. You were sure of it.

Wriggling yourself out of his grip as soon as he got out of the water, you turned around and walked away to hide yourself from everything else behind a large tree. You needed a moment to calm down after what just happened, a moment to just let the tears stream down your face in peace. You felt embarrassed that he out of all people had to witness that, you wished he'd never seen you that way. Certain he'd never let you forget this, he'd bug you with this till the end of time. Or that's what you assumed he'd do. But in reality, Xavier wasn't planning on telling a soul about this. Not because people would find out he did have a heart, but because this wasn't a pleasant experience for you.

It seemed like things had changed in Xavier's dark heart, could it be that he had grown a soft spot for you? Or was this just another trick of him to get your trust, just so he could break it later?

To be continued . . .

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Taglist !¡ @wintrr13 @hayleematyas16 @deepblueoceanwaters @purexfuego @loriasposts @princekooks @hope92100 @just-amess @sweaterxav @pookiewookies @lcvecstiel @reading-writing-737 @ahintofvanilla @xavierthropepartner @poison-ivy-737 @rumoured-whispers @honethatty12 @pippipsquirtsquirt @araxw

if you would like to be added to the taglist for campout please let me know in the comments or through asks/dms!

[trying2cope]

I fell madly, deeply in love.

He did too. We talked everyday. We sexted. One day he seriously considered randomly driving to my house after work, even though we live 3 hours apart. I talked him down, explaining the sensible reasons why he shouldn't leave so suddenly-- I wish I'd let him now.

I realized though why waiting for marriage for sex was a good idea for me though. I didn't regret it exactly-- he was a far superior lover than my exes and I longed to please him and be his forever. But therein lay the problem. "I love him like a husband," I confessed to my friend. "It would destroy me to lose him." Giving myself so fully had left me with no ability to keep him out of my heart and soul.e

My kids liked him. I did cringe a little when I heard my kids mention that Mommy had had a friend over and they mentioned Master's name and I knew my ex would read between the lines and know I was dating. Not that I cared about his opinion, especially when he had dated while we were still married(!) but I didn't want him to cause any trouble or drama as he was prone to do.

I had not yet gotten to meet his daughter because he and his ex had made an agreement that no one they were dating would meet her before they introduced the new partner to each other. I was annoyed momentarily when he first mentioned this because I didn't want to be paraded in front of his ex for her to judge. But I very quickly calmed down and realized this was a long term thinking thing. There was no rule or custody agreement saying this must be done and he *could* have just introduced me to his daughter-- but doing so would have upset the ex and if I was someday to be his wife and his daughter's stepmom it behooved everyone that we do this properly and respectfully. He was pleased when I said that I understood and said that back to him.

Not that actually he could bring his toddler down yet. One of the big embarrassments of my life is how messy I can get. I had been severely depressed and struggling before meeting him and the house had suffered. When he had first suggested meeting, just the next upcoming weekend, I had panicked and almost said no. I knew I couldn't get it clean in time. But I also knew this was an ongoing struggle in my life. I get the house clean only to get sick or depressed or just very, very busy and the next thing you knew it was far too messy once again. I have ADHD with bad executive dysfunction that had only been diagnosed two years earlier and at that point my depression had made me afraid to contact the doctor to get my medicine. It made cleaning a near impossible task.

That can be really hard for neurotypicals to understand but to give a quick example it seems like NTs can say "I'm going to clean the bedroom" and it's one task, and they do it. To me, it's like 25: picking up trash, making sure I have a garbage bag, picking up clothes, making sure I have a laundry basket to put the clothes in, clearing off the end table, putting each individual item that belongs somewhere in the house away is an individual task item for each one, stripping the sheets, taking off the pillow cases, figuring out where I put the clean linens-- doing laundry if I didn't have clean linens. Putting the sheets on the bed, putting each pillow case on, deciding if the blanket is clean enough to go back on or needs to be washed and if it does, bringing it to the laundry room and finding a new blanket for that night. Picking up shoes and making sure they have pairs and are put on the shoe rack. Picking up my kid's toys which shouldn't be in my room but definitely would be and finding a bin to put them in and remembering to take the bin to their room. And more and more and more. This doesn't even get to things like sweeping, mopping, dusting or cleaning windows which felt like luxuries that I never even got to because I would get far too exhausted by the mental load of trying to do the rest of it I was nearing a panic attack before I got remotely close to be ready for that. Because while doing all those endless, thankless, soul sucking tasks I only have the working memory to keep maybe three or four things in my head. And that's only if I'm left to myself-- but I am a single mom so I never was. I *would* be interrupted with "Mommy this" and "Mommy that" every 3 minutes or so, making all my hard one mental efforts drop like being startled with giant armload of various items and dropping them all on the floor and once the kids go back to their play I'd have to pick them back up again only to drop them again in 3 minutes. It seemed like a fruitless, impossible task. And that was just one room of my 3 bedroom house.

So when my potential Master came in and looked around at my mess and nodded and said "we can work on this" with absolutely no judgement at all in his face, my heart nearly exploded with joy. This was the man I'd always needed. My ex husband had always been verbally abusive and critical, making everything much worse. Indeed the reason I would get anxious to the point of almost having panic attacks after 20 minutes or so of cleaning up was partially because I would hear him in the back of my head and I'd have to stop and take deep breathes so I wouldn't hyperventilate. My body associated cleaning with danger now. But Master's response had been so gentle, so not a big deal, that I knew with him I'd be able to find healing and the praise I so desperately needed to function, something that when I had pleaded with my ex to give me would only bring hateful scorn. "You want praise for doing the bare minimum?!" he had sneered. But praise would short circuit the anxiety and give me motivation when it was lagging. I *needed* it to function and he never understood. But this man would.

When he left after that first meeting I had been energized and had done some cleaning. But then a few weeks later I'd had a few busy days in a row. Whenever we were busy with tasks outside the home the house got messier because we tended to discard clothes and dishes and whatever on our way to rush out or to bed when we got back, too distracted or tired to clean up.

It had been three days in a row of busy days when I heard the doorbell ring one morning. I was upstairs and scantily clad so I threw some clothes on as I headed downstairs. I was expecting FedEx and assumed it was a package. I opened the door and a woman stood there with a clipboard.

"FedEx?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "I'm from Child Protective Services."

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hi love! I haven’t been online for a hot sec but the scream I SCRUMPT when I saw that Dogs: Bullets & Carnage was still available for the au prompts!!! I’m literally down for any headcanons and any AUs with the lovely characters because I don’t know anyone else that knows of it so I want to say pick your poison 😭😭 but if I must choose one for the event, maybe a coffee shop AU? The characters have been through too much I just need an AU where they get to experience soft cozy vibes instead of whatever’s going on in canon 🫶🏻

Thank you so much for your time and thoughtfulness in penning your work for us! Please feel free to pick any other available AU if it strikes your inspo more than this one. Tbh foaming at the mouth for any thoughts about our beloved stray dogs howling in the dark… 🤍

Okay, so I admit that this is no longer on my fandom list. It's been a while since I've revisiting the manga and there really wasn't much interest in it, so I did remove it. However, I love coffee shop/cafe au's, I do love this fandom, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to write this! Thank you so, so much for sending this in and, though they are late getting to you, I really hope you enjoy the headcanons!

In a very complete change of pace for me, I gotta say that I agree so hard with the asker for this one. This needed to be a soft, peaceful AU. Something very fluffy and very slice of life, and that's how I'd write it out as a story. There's no big over-arching plot, really, everything is very character-driven and there's no intrigue, no mystery, no real big angsty elements. Any angsty elements are there as backstory for some characters or are things happening in character's lives (because everyone has bad days and troubles, that's just reality) and they always find comfort and support among either the cafe's staff or the regular customers, as I do see everyone who frequents the café and those that work there really becoming a sort of surrogate family for each and every single one of these characters. The café is everyone's safe spot to land, even on the bad days, so the angst is very much mitigated and not used, since character and healing, growth, peace, bonds between people and found family would, again, really be the basis and focus of this story.

Now, I know Angelika really plays a large role overall in the manga but in this AU, her role is really that she was an adoptive mother to Heine, Giovanni, Lily, and now is an adoptive mother to Luki and Noki. She was, for all extents and purposes, a very abusive mother, physically and mentally, and Heine in particular blames her for the childhood death of his adoptive sister. Heine's had no contact with her for years and Giovanni's constant excuses and sticking up for her is the reason there's a large rift between the two men. Angelika really wants Heine back in her life, but she doesn't know where he relocated to or anything and she does try to use Giovanni to find out, which does become a major character plot point for Giovanni at one point. He's found Heine working at the café and because of other things that happen in the story, there's starting to be signs of a reconciliation between the two brothers, and in his first real step towards independence, Giovanni refuses to tell her where Heine is and pretends that he could never find him and starts to pull away from Angelika too, leaving her really largely written out of the story after that.

So, let's start with the café itself. It's not insanely popular to be honest. It's a small, slightly out of the way coffee-shop that serves small meals and baked treats but everyone who goes there tends to become a regular. Not only is the coffee actually the best around (the owner roasts the beans and creates the blends himself), and the food is superb, but there's just something slightly magical about the place. You walk in and automatically feel just…at home. Comfortable. Those who really have nowhere else to spend their days will find they can go in and spend the whole day there, even if all they order is a single coffee, without anyone getting upset, and that they'll always find a willing ear to talk to in either the staff themselves or the other patrons.

Above the café proper are four small studio apartments. Three of them are 'rented' to the cafe's full-time staff members. Honestly, the owner has a soft spot for people who are down on their luck, people with no real homes to go to or no real support systems in place. He takes each of the three full-time staff members in, gives them gainful employment and tells them that he'll take 10% of their paychecks off each pay in exchange for rent and they can live in one of the studio apartments. And honestly, I don't know why, maybe because it is such an oddly sweet idea, but I don't see him using much of that 10% for his own gain - it goes either back into the café itself or he uses it for the not too rare occasions when he'll show up at one of his staff's doors with either a meal, a bag of groceries, some piece of furniture he knows they'll need, sometimes a new piece of clothing. Yeah, some of it, like the clothing and furniture, might be second-hand, but it's all very appreciated.

And who is this owner I keep talking about? I really see Mihai as the owner of the café. He works there day to day just like everyone else and I really see him becoming a sort of surrogate father figure to not only his staff, but some of his regular customers. A well-meaning man, his past is largely unknown, though he admits to having lost a son and a lover at some point. Maybe that's why he's so keen on taking in 'strays', as the staff like to jokingly refer to themselves as.

While the café does make a modest profit, nobody quite knows where a lot of Mihai's money comes from. One of the staff members, Badou, helps with the bookkeeping, and he did notice that Mihai is not the full owner of the café. There's a silent partner who put up a good chunk of the investment in the place, someone named Ernst Rammsteiner. Nobody's ever seen him or heard his voice and they get no answers on that particular subject from Mihai and it becomes sort of a theory and running joke that maybe Mihai has mob connections or something and the shady co-owner is the head of a Mafia or other outlandish theories.

Who is Ernst Rammsteiner, in all honesty? Truth is, all the staff members do actually know him. The priest at a local church, everyone just knows him as 'Bishop'. He's the cafe's most frequent customer and becomes a friend to all the staff and a fair number of the customers. He doesn't insist on 'confession' being only a thing done inside the church walls…he'll hear confessions, or even people's worries and laments, sitting across from them at a café table just as well as he'll hear them sitting in a confession booth. His church is also very well known for hosting not only community dinners, where he'll hire the café to provide coffee, tea, and such for the meal, but for holding a number of weekly support groups. He also hires the café to cater these support groups, providing coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and pastries for the people who attend.

I really like the idea of these support groups actually being a fairly important thing in the story, because part of peace and happiness is finding healing, support, and growth. It's through catering and observing and learning about these support groups, maybe quietly observing one here or there, that a couple of the characters grow to feel comfortable enough, especially with the help of Bishop, with attending these groups. First Heine, and then Giovanni as well, attend a support group for those who suffered childhood abuse or trauma, and that group, along with the interactions at the café, are what really allow them to sort of heal some and start the steps towards mending their broken brotherhood, even if it's still slow-going. Badou and Naoto attends a grief support group for a while, where they sometimes even find Mihai himself, really learning how to heal after the death of important people in their lives (Badou's brother and Naoto's foster father).

Where did Bishop's money come from to support the café as he does? That's a secret not even Mihai knows…he just knows that, despite how long he's known the other man, Ernst remains an enigma, a complete mystery.

Now, I'll get into the staff members, but because I don't have as many ideas for some of the customers, I'll list the ones I do have.

In my mind, Daniella, Doug, and Mimi are all frequent customers with their own little struggles, lives, and things going on that affect the story here and there but not hugely overall.

Kiri is also a regular at the café and the owner of a really successful restaurant in the town. Everyone thinks there's something romantic going on between her and Mihai, as they spend a fair amount of time together and Kiri does a lot for the café. They both advertise each other's businesses, and the café has a thirty stamp coffee card where, once you fill it up with all thirty stamps (stamps given whenever you buy something), you get a free meal from Kiri's restaurant (menu selections limited). In much the same way, customers at Kiri's restaurant get a little 'free coffee' card valid for the café with their bills. It helps bring a lot of business for the café, to be honest, because most coffee lovers, as mentioned, tend to keep coming back once they've tasted the brew of the day.

Both Campanella and Magato are customers at the café. They both are surprised to see Naoto working there and, much like the others have people they refuse to serve, Naoto as first makes one of the others wait on them and refuses to leave the kitchen area until they're out of the café. Everyone knows there's something there in their past with Naoto, and I do see part of her story being really exploring that, her coming to terms with her pasts with these two and learning how to forgive, how to move forward, either in not speaking to them or in beginning to take the steps into having relationships with them again.

Me mentioning that each member of the staff seems to encounter someone that they just can't bring themselves to serve? That's Richter for Badou and Badou makes no secret of why. He blames the man for his brother's death…it's through the story, finding a new family, healing some of his grief, finding ways to continue in life, that Badou finds a way to at least forgive Richter. Not for the other man's sake, but for the sake of himself. It's when Badou has reached that point but also acknowledged that he wants Richter to play no part in his life that Mihai, encouraged by Ernst, accepts that Badou is in the best place he can be and bans Richter from the establishment.

As mentioned, Giovanni frequents the coffee shop. He stumbled across it randomly one day, he did not know Heine worked there. When I say Heine can't deal with him at first, I mean it. There was an actual physical brawl between the two that Mihai and Bishop had to break up before other customers called the police. Giovanni didn't get banned though and so he keeps coming back every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I think, in his own way, he really does care deeply about Heine and just kind of wants his brother back into his life while also still blaming Heine a little for Lily, because he's so deep into the FOG with his adoptive mother. However, even deep in the FOG, he never mentions the café to Angelika, and even though he's a good big brother to Luki and Noki, and they always ask to go with him on his running around, he never brings them to the café, steers clear of even taking them within a five block radius of it, simply because he doesn't want to risk them exposing Heine's location to Mother. And like mentioned, I think Giovanni starts to find friends, starts to find others who will listen, in the café itself and then in the support group and I think a large part of his character growth through the story would be him just taking steps to become an independent man outside of his family, along with the baby steps he and Heine make in becoming closer to each other and potentially having that brotherly relationship again.

Now, as you can imagine, the three full-time staff members, the ones who live above the café, work around there, really start to grow roots there, are Badou, Heine, and Naoto. Badou is the friendliest of the three of them and he's almost always running the till, doing a lot of the customer service work. His most annoying work habit? He takes frequent smoke breaks, but at the same time, it's during those smoke breaks that he really gets to learn and befriend a lot of the casual customers, turning them into regulars more often than not and really establishing bonds in the community.

Heine always wears gloves because he really can't stand to touch most people. I do think, throughout the story, we see him make some progress there, allowing select people to touch him or taking the gloves off around them. He's a very attractive man and is a draw for a lot of the heterosexual women who frequent the café but he never really does customer service work because he's also very, very bad at talking to people. He makes a little progress through the story but is definitely never going to be customer service material. Instead, he studies and learns quick and becomes the cafe's main barista, able to make even the most complicated of drinks.

Naoto works mainly in the kitchen, but is able to help out front whenever needed. She's quiet but really, the café would kind of fall apart without her, as it's only after she starts that people start to really rave about not just the coffee, but all the different treats and little meals they can get.

I like imagining Nill as a part-time staff member. She helps out Naoto a lot in the kitchen, as well as doing a lot of the cleaning. She's really shy and doesn't interact a lot with the customers, but the other staff kind of take her in, make her feel comfortable, and take care of her. Not a lot is known about her past, just that she lives in the church's rectory with Bishop.

[foolishpensandidioticink]

Really, Truly

Harry stood before Hermione, red in the face, and he wondered what in Merlin's name he was expected to say. He glared over his shoulder at Ron, who was trying very hard to look absorbed in a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. He briefly frowned back and gestured to Hermione. Harry could not believe Ron had resorted to making him do his dirty work, and he could not believe that he'd agreed. Ron really, truly owed him, and he was going to make him pay hell for this. He really, truly was. Unfortunately, Hermione chose this moment to look up from her book, and even more unfortunately, Harry felt a blush sweep up under his glasses.

"Do you actually have something to say, Harry, or are you just going to stand there like you're about to give me a life sentence in Azkaban?" she said impatiently. Harry almost laughed-he knew Hermione hated to be bothered when she was reading- and then he remembered why he was here. Hermione was glaring up at him in a familiar way, a kind of affectionate irritation.

The fire cast a shadow over her brow, deepening the crease between her eyebrows. Her eyes looked lighter by almost two shades, like liquid luck. The light deepened her skin to a smooth, rich ochre, and her hair seemed to have lighting bolts of gold running through it. Fucking hell, Harry thought, glancing away quickly.

For some ridiculous, idiotic reason, Harry was nervous. He'd never felt nervous around Hermione before. Things were always easy between them, always simpler than with everyone else. Hermione understood him like no one else. Maybe he was worried that he was going to lose her, or lose Ron, or both of them. Yes, that must be it.

Hermione was beginning to get annoyed. "Well?" "Oh, sorry," Harry said. "Ron, er, has something to ask you. I think you'd better go and speak to him.' Harry could almost feel Ron's outrage from across the room, but he couldn't quite bring himself to face him. Instead, he dashed out of the common room and down the hall.

His only thought was to escape Ron's ire anywhere he could, so he was a bit surprised when he found himself at the lake. Harry threw himself beneath the low-hanging branches of a willow and pulled out his wand, muttering, "Wingardium Leviosa," under his breath. He idly levitated a rock into the air.

Right now, right this very second, Harry had no doubt that Hermione and Ron were making plans for Hogsmead next week. He's probably going to take her to Zonko's, Harry thought uncharitably. Then he sat up straighter.

Why was he so upset about Hermione and Ron going on a date? He'd known this was coming, he'd known that they were inevitable. He'd been expecting this. So why did it feel so wrong? Why did he feel like it was Christmas morning at the Dursleys?

Harry got up and skipped the stone across the lake. One, two, three, four. He bent to pick up another one and almost screamed when he made direct eye-contact with a gigantic, shimmering beetle.

"Hello, Harry," the beetle said dreamily. "Merlin's balls, Luna," Harry breathed. "What on earth are you wearing?" "They're called spectrespecs," Luna responded, sitting up. "They help me see wrackspurts." "I see," Harry said dubiously. "And why, exactly, are you laying on a rock by the lake?" "I was attempting to communicate with the Grindylows. They're rather surly today." "That makes a bunch of us," Harry muttered.

Luna peered up at Harry through her dazzling lenses. "Is it because of Hermione?" Harry blinked. "I don't imagine the Grindylows care much about her," he said finally. "But, er, I suppose I do. " Luna raised her eyebrows. "They're going to Hogsmeade together," he blurted. "And I can't stand it. I just- I don't understand why they've got to go and ruin our friendship like that." Luna had begun to build a rock tower, but Harry had the distinct impression that she was listening intently. "Now Hermione's always going to be with Ron, and I'm going to lose Ron too, and-"

"Did you know that Clabberts often form lifelong bonds with each other?" Luna interrupted. Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Sorry?" "Clabberts. They've been observed to form bonds that last the entirety of their lifespans." "No, I didn't know that?" "Quite often, the bonded Clabberts become mates," Luna explained, looking up from her castle of stones. "Oh," Harry said uncertainly. "That's neat." Luna stared at him unwaveringly for a few seconds. "Could you pass me that flat rock over there? I want to build a Moroccan balcony." As Harry reached for the rock, something clicked. "Oh," he said. "Oh."

He helped Luna finish the balcony in silence. "Er, Luna," he started when they were finished, "About the clabberts....You were talking about Hermione, weren't you?" Luna blinked. "I don't know. What about Hermione?" "I suppose, what I'm trying to say- or, well, what you were trying to say- is that I, er, have feelings for... for Hermione?" "You do," Luna said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world rather than the bombshell it really was. "Right," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Brilliant." "I think a gazebo would be nice," Luna remarked suddenly. Harry nodded.

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

He had been avoiding them both all week. Well, he'd only been avoiding Hermione. He'd tried to avoid Ron, he really had, but the bloke was relentless, and it was short of impossible to avoid his roommate. He felt awful about snubbing Hermione, and even worse, he was certain she knew he was doing it. Hell, even Luna knew. She'd marched up to him during breakfast and ordered him to 'fess up' because his head was 'infested with wrackspurts'.

Hermione sat alone in Charms that day. Harry was still circumventing her, and for some reason, Ron was sitting with Lavender Brown. He ached to fill the space next to her, but he dropped his gaze when she glanced at him. This is for the best, He told himself. I ought to let them be until I can get myself under control. Because Harry knew that if he saw Ron and Hermione together, he just might go mad. Mad with what, exactly, he didn't know. Longing? He suggested. He was hurrying out of class, passing Ron, who was sitting on Lavender's desk, Malfoy, who attempted to trip him, and Hermione, who was engaged in a very heated discussion with Hannah Abott.

Longing. That's good, he thought, passing her and watching her eyes flare with temper, her head toss impetuously. But not good enough. Jealousy, then? Was he jealous? Harry thought about Ron getting to hold Hermione's hand. Maybe a little. But not quite. He had begun to consider 'desire' when he heard a shout from behind him.

"Harry! Harry, WAIT!" Hermione was flying down the stairs towards him. She pulled up beside him, breathless. Her skin was like amber against the snow, and her hair was golden tendrils rising from her as though she were the sun. "Er, hullo, Hermione," he stammered. "Hi,' she said. "Where are you off to?" "The lake." "Oh. Can I come?" "Well, I-" Harry paused and looked into her hopeful face. "Yes," he said.

They walked on in silence. Brilliant, Harry thought. Fucking fantastic. He was trying to do the right thing by putting distance between them and she was mucking it all up! Hermione was acting very strange. She would open her mouth, close it, and then look away, blinking rapidly. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. "Hermione, what's the matter?"

"You tell me," She blurted. She stopped and turned to face him. Her eyes were bright, as if there was something painful behind them. "It feels like everyone I know decided to hate me overnight! Ron's avoiding me because I won't go to Hogsmeade with him, Hannah's upset because I skipped part of a prefects meeting to attend Ginny's quidditch match, but Ginny's mad because I didn't stay the whole game, and you're angry with me and the worst part is I have no idea what I did!" She covered her face with her hands and turned away.

Harry Potter had never felt like a bigger ninny. He could have flung himself from the Astronomy Tower. He'd thought he was doing the right thing, but he was only making her suffer more. He'd failed to be there for her like she'd been there for him. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her to his chest and began stroking her hair.

"I- I'm not mad at you, 'Mione," he murmured. "I'm sorry I've been such a prick to you when this isn't your fault. It's mine, only mine, but I swear I'm not mad." Her voice seemed to echo through her body and reverberate into his. It took him several seconds to register that she'd asked him a question. "Sorry?" he asked. Hermione's voice was muffled when she repeated herself, but it didn't conceal the slight irritation in her tone. "I said, if you're not angry with me, how come you've been avoiding me? And what isn't my fault?" For the second time in an hour, Harry contemplated jumping off a very high place. In less than five seconds, he'd gone and undone all the past week's work.

He pushed his fingers up behind his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively, laying a hand on his arm. Harry looked at her and knew he was done for. He couldn't lie to her anymore; she deserved the truth. He let go of her and stepped away. There was no way he could form a coherent sentence with her touching him that way.

"Hermione," he started. "You're always there for me, even when no one else is, even when I'm not there for you. You're amazing in every way. I think I've always known that, but when Ron asked you to Hogsmeade I realized it, y'know? Really and truly." "Harry-" Hermione began. "No, no, let me finish," he protested. "You and Ron are good together, you really are, and I'd never muck it up for you guys. But I can't help it. I just can't help it, 'Mione. I'm sorry," Harry ended softly.

Hermione didn't say a thing. She was as petrified as she'd been in second year, the year Harry had visited her in the hospital wing. Every day he'd visited her. And he'd spoken to her even when he thought she couldn't hear, telling her everything that was happening. How Ginny was acting barmy, how Malfoy was being even more of an arse than usual, how much he missed her.

She was pretty sure it had started then.

After she was healed, Harry went back to normal. He treated her exactly the way he had before, but for Hermione, everything had changed. Harry was more than a friend to her, he was more than a crush. He was everything. Hermione had never even begun to imagine that he could feel the same way about her.

She leaned forward and cupped his cheek. "Harry." Every worry, every fear melted away when she said his name like that. Warmth rolled over him and through him, safety. "Yeah?"

She kissed him, and lake and snow and earth and sky all faded into her warmth, her taste. It was brief, but it was enough to leave him panting when they pulled apart. " 'Mione," he mumbled, tucking a coil of hair behind her ear. And then something she'd said earlier struck him full force.

"Did you just say you're not going to Hogsmeade with Ron?" Hermione chuckled. "Now he remembers. I said no because-" she broke off, suddenly embarrassed. Harry smiled. He liked to see her flustered. "Because?" he prodded gently. "You know why." Hermione bit her lip and looked away. "Do I though? Do I really?" he teased. "Alright fine, it's because I like you, and I've liked you ever since second year." She glared playfully. "Are you happy now?"

He was pulling her close again, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Since second year? Really? Truly?" She laughed softly. "Really and truly." "Merlin, I'm a fool," Harry groaned. "Great Merlin, I am." "You are," Hermione agreed, giggling when he raised his head to glare at her. "Best watch your back, 'Mione, I'm going to get you back for that one," he threatened.

"Oh really?" She was about to laugh, until she saw the wicked glint in Harry's eye. He leaned in and pressed a sudden kiss to her lips, then gave her hair a sharp tug and went running. Her mouth hung open for about 3 seconds. "Harry James Potter! You've done it now!" She chased him and tackled him onto the snow, grinding a fistful into his face. In retaliation, he pulled her hair again. Hermione responded with a kiss which shook Harry so much that she couldn't form a counterattack. They lay in the clear, crisp snow, silent and frozen and happy. And then Harry sat bolt upright.

"Ron is going to murder me."

Self indulgent fluff for one of my favorite Harry Potter ships. I kinda did Ron dirty unintentionally in this one :/

Aside from that I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out. Let me know what you think, and don't hesitate to send requests!

-Jax

[sharas-bae]

welp, it didn't work out. it ended up being what i described beforehand as my worst case scenario (ie not actually that bad in the grand scheme of things, but still my least hoped-for outcome) where this confirmed i'd caught feelings and she didn't.

she was disappointed too, as she said that in theory i'm a great match for her. and if we'd had more drawn-out together time, or if we'd been together in person for longer before doing long-distance, it may well have clicked. but we didn't, and while i admitted i was tempted to say 'well let's just give it another shot later' we agreed that that's not a good idea. just a recipe for more angst than good feelings.

funnily enough, she said that she tends to pull back when she senses someone develops feelings before she does, which is exactly how i tend to be too. so we joked that the timing of it all would've had to be perfect.

the good news is, it was overall a really lovely visit, as i expected it would be even if this was the outcome. there was some awkwardness in the time between when she realized this might not work for her and the time we talked about it (gap was for a combination of good reasons on both ends) and i picked up on her pulling away but couldn't tell if it was in my head.

but even inside of that time, we had some great conversations and meshed well in her small apartment and i got along great with her friends. and after we had the conversation on saturday morning, we ended up having a wonderful day with the air cleared. i did get hit with tears at random moments for the rest of the visit, sensing what could've been (she did too but less often) but it didn't really dampen the enjoyment. and sunday morning we cuddled and cried and talked in bed for a long time before i could bring myself to get up and pack. i think we could've stayed much longer if i hadn't had a flight to catch. but that was good and a satisfying ending too, in its own way. it would've hurt a lot more if she had pulled away completely, rather than being in a place of confused affection (though that was hard in its own way too).

this whole unexpected situation has far and away been the healthiest, most communicative dating situation i've been in, and i've learned so much about myself and what i want and how i want to show up in relationships (including my friendships).

but i'm gonna sit in the sads for a bit before trying to jump into silver linings. we're taking a two-week pause on contact to recalibrate and then check in, because this feels like it could be a great friendship anyway. but first gotta get out of the habit of constant life and thoughts updates to each other (for example, i keep wanting to text her that i have no idea why my first response when she asked about a pause was to say I didn't think I'd need one. of course we need one, what was i thinking lol)

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS IN LOVE - Chapter 28 - Part 1 BOOK THREE: 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

I was on cloud nine.

When I got home from dropping Sam off at his dorm, Ciera and Kaitlyn were getting ready for their date while I zoned out, my mind replaying last night with my hands on Sam's naked body, my lips on his.

It was perfect and in a matter of hours Sam will be knocking on my door and informing me that he broke up with Boring Benjamin.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look this happy," Ciera commented while she leaned into the bathroom mirror and carefully drew a long line of eyeliner onto her eyelid.

Kaitlyn was picking clothes in Ciera's bedroom.

Then Ciera added.

"The sex must've been good."

I chuckled.

"The best. You don't even know."

"I promise you, it wasn't as good as the sex I had last night," she spoke confidently.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh yeah?" I questioned with a sly smile.

I watched through the bathroom mirror as Ciera smiled softly to herself.

"Yeah, she was..."

I shook my head.

"I'm gonna have to stop you right there. I'm happy for you guys and whatever but that's my ex-girlfriend you slept with and I'm not trying to hear details on that."

Ciera rolled her eyes.

"Okay, loser, then tell me about your night because I know you're dying to."

I grinned with a hint of a laugh because that's how happy I was as I explained my night before with Sam.

I didn't go into what transpired between Sam and Jude, I wanted to burn that memory and hope Sam does too.

"And right now," I said after finishing up.

"He's breaking it off with Boring Benjamin and we won't have to deal with anymore bullshit."

Just the thought of being able to kiss and hold and touch Sam whenever I want had my head feeling light and my heart feeling full.

"I'm happy for you guys. Just don't fuck it up over dumb shit this time and actually talk things through."

"We did talk. We talked about taking it slow this time."

"That's good. I think that's smart."

Ciera was still talking when I got a text message from Sam.

To: Noah Wright [I wasn't able to do it, I'll explain later.] From: Samuel Moretti

My heart dropped and I stood up.

"What's wrong?" I heard Ciera ask but I was too confused with Sam's messages to respond.

To: Noah Wright [Please don't be upset.] From: Samuel Moretti

"What the fuck?" I muttered to myself and pressed on the call icon in his contact and brought my phone up to my ear.

After two rings, the call was declined.

To: Noah Wright [I can't talk right now, I'm with Ben.] From: Samuel Moretti

Ciera stopped putting on makeup and turned to me with a concerned look.

To: Samuel Moretti [What the fuck do you mean don't be upset? Sam, call me right now.] From: Noah Wright

To: Noah Wright [I will. Give me an hour.] From: Samuel Moretti

To: Samuel Moretti [You can't be serious.] From: Noah Wright

To: Noah Wright [I'm sorry.] From: Samuel Moretti

"What the fuck?" I questioned out loud.

I wanted to throw my cell-phone against the wall.

"What just happened?" Ciera asked me.

I took a deep breath and handed her my phone.

Ciera read the messages as I tried not to get too worked up over Sam's vague fucking texts.

I shook my head.

"Of fucking course," I muttered before exclaiming...

"Of course. God, why can't anything just go my fucking way? Just once. Fuck."

Ciera set down my cell-phone and turned to me cautiously.

"Hey, just take a deep breath. Clearly there's a reason why Sam couldn't break up with Ben right now, that doesn't mean he won't."

"Oh really? And what fucking reason could Sam have for not breaking up with Ben right fucking now?"

I knew I shouldn't take my anger out on Ciera but I couldn't help the curse words that flew out of my mouth and the rise in volume in my voice.

"I don't know but don't get so worked up over it just yet, okay? Go sit down and take some deep breaths."

"Fuck this," I said, grabbing my phone and was about to walk out of the bathroom when Ciera grabbed my arm.

She gave me a stern look.

"Chill, Noah. Relax and wait for Sam to call you. Don't do anything irrational when you don't even know what's going on, got it?"

I took a deep breath 'in through my nose and out through my mouth' before nodding and Ciera released me but I couldn't sit still.

Sam wouldn't text me back after I messaged him to explain through text and Ciera and Kaitlyn left for the day, so I was stuck anxiously waiting to figure out what the hell Sam was talking about.

Until he called me two hours later.

"What the fuck, Sam?" was how I answered his call.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry. Benjamin's Grandma just passed away and Ben was really close to her and he asked me to go to the funeral with him."

I groaned.

"Fucking Hell and you obviously said yes."

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked me with his voice rising.

"Say, 'go to it yourself, she's not my fucking grandma?' I don't know."

Sam scoffed.

"I couldn't do that."

"Clearly not," I spoke bitterly.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm just going to be gone for a few days with him and then I'll do it when we get back?"

"Do what?" I asked because I wanted him to say it out loud even though I knew Sam rolled his eyes at that.

"Break up with Benjamin, you asshole."

"Right, I'm the asshole," I scoffed.

"I'm sorry Noah. Do you think I want to be here?"

"You tell me," I muttered but I knew I was overreacting.

"Noah," Sam said my name like he was disappointed.

I sighed.

"No, I don't think you want to be there but please, Sam, end it after this," I said with edge to my words.

"I know, I will. I'm sorry Noah, I didn't expect this to happen."

I knew he was right but I still hated this.

"I know."

But the thought of Sam and Boring-Benjamin together for the next couple days.

'Ugh.'

"Please don't kiss him."

"Noah, I want to be kissing you, not him, okay? I'll end it once we get back. I gotta go, I can't be on my cell-phone too much or he'll know something's off. I'm sorry."

And then Sam hung up.