#LIV i love you

[epitomereally]

@hd-wireless 2023 fic claim: LA, Who Am I to Love You? for @sitp-recs

AO3 // FIC PLAYLIST

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

Liv, there's nothing I can say that everyone hasn't said before: you're such a lovely, kind, supportive part of our fandom and I can't think you enough for everything you do (especially sticking up for my fic while it was still on anon!). I was so so so excited when I saw your prompt — thank you for letting me rhapsodize about magical Los Angeles and also for letting me be horny in your ask box 💕💗💞

This fic took a village & is immeasurably better for all of their feedback: @thehoneybeet, whose essays about how some key scenes should change led to more clarity and kindness in the fic (and who let me steal their words VERBATIM); aulophobia, who tamed my run-on sentences (or at least half of them — blame me for the rest) and britpicked the hell out of this American fic (any Americanisms remaining are my own); @theonetruenim for their enthusiasm and wonderful LA vibes check; and @chaoticbindery for talking with me about Chicano magical traditions and a sensitivity read.

I'm feeling really sappy about this story. I truly love LA and I hope everyone else can see something to love about this illogical and metastatic city in the fic, whether it's the interminable sun and traffic, bougainvillea cascading over a fence, or the smog making the sunsets violent and gorgeous. Thank you to everyone who read it (especially @sitp-recs & @romaine2424 for your recs) — it means the world.

A brief snippet for the * ~ LA V I B E S ~ *

Luna and Neville spend a magical week in LA. Neville works during the day, developing a new strain with Blaise, but Luna is stupendously free. She accompanies Harry to yoga, where she compliments the teacher on her lack of Wrackspurts. Harry’s teacher accepts the compliment graciously and completely seriously. Despite being a Muggle, she is apparently senses when her aura is being declared clear, despite the incomprehensible words Luna uses.

They go to Harry’s favourite juice bar and Luna delights in ordering the oddest-coloured drinks she can: black (charcoal), royal blue (spirulina), hot pink (pitaya), and then green, green, and more green.

He and Luna spend hours outside. They lay on the beach—the first time Harry’s taken his shirt off in front of anyone who’s not a Healer since the bite—and Luna spends hours tracing it gently, completely intent, her nose almost pressed into Harry’s side. Harry dozes, waking up every time she hits somewhere sensitive. Despite applying extensive sunscreen, he somehow acquires a bit of a glow about him. He loves it. Harry, who was always tan in England, had felt positively pale before now in LA. He had been technically darker than Malfoy and Pansy, but his skin didn’t have a healthy flush of recent sun exposure; it looked almost green, olive tones coming out against the gold of Malfoy’s and amber of Pansy’s. Somehow, all the Slytherins have freckles. They no longer look sickly and afraid like at Hogwarts; instead, like they had ripened and melted in the LA sun. When they arrive back at Malfoy’s, Harry likes how Malfoy laughs at both of them, not unkindly, when they immediately demand Sun-Healing Potion.

They walk along the canals of Venice and the tiny alleys, where Luna stops to marvel at pomelos the size of Harry’s head, or brush her fingers through mulberries which stain her hands wine-dark for the rest of the day, or weave a crown of fig leaves.

They wile away the time in Draco’s garden. Butterflies flit around them—Harry’s not sure if they’re even real, given the mild explosions from Draco’s garage, where he’s madly inventing effects. Luna takes time to tell Harry about every plant in the garden, what’s in season, and what Draco has enchanted to bloom despite the heat and the sun: bougainvillea and wisteria and jacaranda and Birds of Paradise and one English tea rose. It’s odd how at-home Harry feels in Malfoy’s back garden—they’ve only just barely become friends—but he does and Malfoy seems to like him there, anyways.

On Thursday evening, after 48 hours of mad plant alchemy between Neville and Blaise, they come home. Neville’s only got one long scratch down his cheek, which is apparently a rousing success for trying to cross marijuana, Gillyweed, and a Venomous Tentacula. The poison is apparently a mild empathogen in small doses, the Gillyweed makes Harry feel as if he’s floating and unexpectedly makes him blow bubbles, and they all lie in the backyard, laughing and dozing and chatting. Bubbles float above them, trapped by the jacaranda: purple and pink and iridescent, shifting in front of Harry’s eyes. Somehow, butterflies are still flitting about the garden; the fairy lights glow above them in the dim of the twilight. A giant purple blossom from the jacaranda drifts down to the top of Malfoy’s head, and Harry can’t stop staring, entranced by how lovely he is, how golden and beautiful. He falls asleep on the cushioned wicker sofa out back that night, Luna curled around Pansy in a chair, and Neville snoring away. Harry wakes up feeling better than he has in a long time.

Luna and Harry go for hikes in the Hollywood Hills: Runyon Canyon, and Cahuenga Peak to the Hollywood Sign, where Harry feels like a tourist for the first time in LA. They even even drive west up into the Santa Monica Mountains, where Harry roasts to a crisp, exposed among the shrub, with the ocean vast and glittering to his left. Luna’s a calming presence in the passenger seat of Harry’s car, humming along in a scattershot, off-key melody to songs she’s never heard before. While they hike, Luna points out a peppercorn tree, crushes the pink berries between her hands and puts them into Harry’s nostrils; he sneezes. She marvels at the wild mustard, coating the hills with yellow sprays of flowers. She stands in front of an agave, blue-green spikes taller than her, with what appeared to be a giant asparagus rising from its center. It must have been thirty feet tall, covered in yellow and red anemones. Luna loves it instantly. She loves the prickly pear too, with their bloody metastatic fruit sprouting off the paddles—Harry finds them frankly unnerving. She finds wild rosemary off the trail, soft and plush; it’s so intensely savory that Harry feels like he’s being punched in the face with a focaccia when he smells it.

Harry had just tolerated LA—it was a means to an end, a long shot to get rid of the wolf. It almost feels like cheating to see it now through Luna’s eyes, just after Parkinson tempts him with a Quidditch offer. Harry feels as if he hasn’t made a real choice in his entire life: his path laid out by Voldemort and Dumbledore from his first birthday; his apathy during Auror training; and finally the bite. He didn’t think he had a real choice in front of him here, either, but now, in the unexpected beauty of LA through Luna’s eyes and generosity of Pansy Parkinson, he does.

[mirpkechi]

chat i loive my friends i love my boyfeinf i love my pseudo-older sibling frienf thing gnight. m so eepy. raher knackered. nighty night

[truegoist]

LETS FUCKING GO FREE SPA(I have no idea what they even do there)

[lakesandquarries]

thinking about post nsbu liv using the nickname king. at first it’s just with wendell, dang, usha, and usha confuses her granddaughter talking about king (“grandma, are you talking about the king? like the british one?” “no, no, kingskin” “king what?”) and dang directs people to the register (“king over there can check yall out”) and wendell sends good morning texts (“good morning king!”) and then one day wendell is talking to someone and it slips out—“my boyfriend, king”—and he hasn’t even called liv his girlfriend before, but when he looks over her—his—eyes are big and he whispers, “say that again.”

and she’s still liv. she’s still a girl, she still enjoys her long hair and nail polish and a cute dress when the weather’s right, but sometimes—sometimes he’s king, and he’s not quite a man yet but he’s getting there. and more often it’s both. he’s liv, and she’s king, and he likes to wear cute hair clips that match the pattern of the tie she’s wearing and nail polish the same shade as his suit, and he’s wendell’s girlfriend and boyfriend and friend.

not everyone gets it, but the ones who matter do. paula tells her that’s she’s a lovely young man and dang and her get high and talk about bottom surgery and russell makes him an extra name tag to wear at the video store depending on how she feels that day and helps him with a workout routine.

its her life, after all. you can change your mind whenever you want. you choose who to be.

[pessu]

why is he so stupid

[livrere-green]

the fact that charles was so gentle and sincere with his answer to edwin's confession is something I could never forget... because that's what love is about, right?

love is in the way charles could never hurt edwin on purpose, is in the way he protects him, in the way he knows when edwin needs to be seen; love is in the choice of every one of his words, in the way he knows that being honest is the only right answer.

there's still forever waiting for them, there's still forever waiting for charles to figure it out, to discover if he loves edwin in a romantic way too, and it doesn't matter if is not romantic in the end, because that it's just a side of the love they share.

i think is so important not to overlook something like that, not to let that pending romance overshadow the fact that they already love each other in every other way.

because in the end, we are talking about two boys that have experienced excruciating pain, that have seen horrifying things during all their existences, and in spite of it, or maybe because of it, are capable of loving each other in a way that's so pure and strong and relentless...

reducing the importance of it to a reciprocated romantic love seems so simplistic and inconsiderate to me.

[super-nova5045]

sylvia plath, todd anderson and virginia woolf (aka ACTUAL tortured poets) watching taylor “im breaking up with my boyfriend for his intense depression and blaming it on him, im dating a racist who enjoys watching woc being brutalized and harasses young woc artists, i sent my fans out on a hate train to attack a young woc actress for a line she had to say as part of her job to show how mentally ill her character was, im dating a maga supporter, i refuse to say anything about a current genocide despite being the most influential person in the world right now, i am a billionaire, i fly 13 minute flights and have the highest carbon emission of any celebrity, i am a known white feminist who only speaks about issues when it affects me and has constantly let my fans get away with extreme racism and even encouraged it by associating myself with known racists” swift call herself a tortured poet (her writing sounds like a bunch of thesaurus words slapped over gabba hanna and rupi kaur-esque poetry that was created purely as a trinket for an edgy pinterest board)

[vanpalmr]

TAISSA & VAN (FEAT. NATALIE) YELLOWJACKETS 1.02 | 1.04 | 1.05 | 2.03

[weaselishmcdiesel]

random karkats in a style i was tryin out :3

[livwritesstuff]

When Steve returns with Hazel from one of her evening dance classes, Hazel is crying.

Eddie hears it from all the way upstairs and she’s still crying when Eddie makes his way down to greet them and sees that Steve is balancing her on one arm as she sobs into the collar of his t-shirt, her little dance bag slung over his other shoulder.

Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to ignore Hazel’s ongoing weeping, which probably means that whatever she’s upset about isn’t exactly a new issue.

“Hazel!” Eddie exclaims, lifting her chin off of Steve’s shoulder so he can get a look at her face, “What’s wrong, baby?”

Hazel doesn’t manage to get out much more than, “Papa didn’t –” before she devolves into blubbering tears again.

“Papa?” Eddie repeats as he pulls Hazel into his arms, “What’d Papa do to my Hazy-Jay that's making her so upset?”

He says it all dramatic and grandiose because it usually makes Hazel laugh. Not today though, and Steve fixes him with a look that says please don’t make this worse than it already is, so…a swing and a miss on all fronts.

Oh well.

“What the hell happened?” he tried again, directing the question at Steve this time (and in his normal voice).

“Uh,” Steve starts, “Yeah, she’s all kinds of mad at me because I didn’t pull over and stop traffic on a highway off-ramp to let a family of ducks cross over to the reservoir.

Eddie blinked.

Okay, so maybe he can sort of understand Steve’s dilemma.

Hazel has always loved animals, but ever since she was tall enough to see out the windshield, she’d become somewhat of a wildlife protection sergeant in the way her eyes were always peeled for little (and not-so-little) critters that could be in need of assistance. It’s not like Eddie hadn’t been braking for animals before, but if there was a turtle on the side of the road, he probably just carefully detoured around it.

Not anymore.

Now they’re pulling over on the side of the road and helping it get across safely, which is fine, obviously. It’s just not always possible, like on the highway at seven o’clock at night.

Their four-and-a-half-year-old daughter might not be able to see the nuance there quite yet.

“So are they…” Eddie trailed off.

“Let’s change the subject, please.”

[ridestomars]

ISN'T SHE LOVELY? – S. HARRINGTON

𖥻 summary: the party meets y/n and steve's firstborn. 𖥻 pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader 𖥻 warnings: girl dad!steve. the baby's name is amelia. too much fluff. everyone is alive and well thank you. one dirty dancing reference. bad grammar, italics & not proofread (hey it's me). 2k-ish words. weird divs :/

💭 liv's thoughts: this is based on an idea i had last year (s4 i miss you) and a sequel of sorts to my 'all is well universe' of sunny days that won't ever end – you don't have to read it, but pls do it's v sweet. i hope you like it! <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

The sound of loud chattering could be heard from the end of the hallway, which wasn't surprising, given the number of people that were sharing the limited space of the apartment's living room. The kids – can you even call them that anymore? – were never known for their ability to speak quietly whenever they were together. However, everyone seemed to be in such a good mood that you can even hear the loud sound of Jonathan's laugh. There's a first time for everything, right?

You held the small baby in your arms, walking in slow steps out of her little nursery. Though you tried not to disturb your daughter too much, Amelia already had her big brown eyes open and searching for the source of all that noise. She wasn't used to such noises, being too accustomed to her parents' soft-spoken voices and the entertaining sound of their television – that didn't play anything other than Steve's recordings of Barney episodes. It's only natural that she finds the commotion strange.

As you arrive in the living room, you are greeted by Steve in his typical mom pose, hands on his hips as he watches Michael and Max's every move, anxiously waiting for his girls. From his stance, you can see that he already regrets the idea of inviting everyone over. Taking in the very worried furrow of his eyebrows, you just know that he is going over the most pessimistic thoughts as he looks at the crowded living room.

Appearing with the small baby in your arms, everyone gasped in surprise and amazement, including Steve, who quickly made his way over to you with the goofiest, most endearing smile. His big hands wrap around Amelia's small frame, as he leans down to take her from your arms. He has that sweet look on his face, that brightens even more when he sees the chubbiness of the baby's laughing cheeks. Delicately, like he's carrying the world's most precious jewel (he is!), your husband shows Amy to everyone, with a proud glimmer in his eyes.

"There she is!" he maneuvers her chubby body tenderly, making the baby sit on his arm to face everyone. Her upper body leaned on his chest for support, and she squealed happily when her curious eyes noticed how many people were in their living room. Unhesitating, Steve translates it to everyone, "Millie says hi". 

That was enough to erupt a string of awws, sighs and one high-pitched "she's so adorable!" from Eddie. It was funny to see how a human being so small had everyone wrapped around her tiny little finger. Even Max, who usually had a hard time showing any emotion other than pure annoyance, was goofily smiling at the baby, admiring her brown (and very full) hair and round cheeks. 

The kids were the most eager to get to know Amelia, with Dustin being the spokesman for their wishes, telephoning almost every day since the baby was born to ask when they could meet her. So, it's no surprise that the first person to make grabby hands to hold her next was Henderson himself. "C'mon, Steve, let me hold my goddaughter!" he exclaims as he looks at your girl in absolute awe. 

"Your goddaughter?" Eddie asks, scoffing from his seat at the couch's armrest, next to the boy. "Yeah, right".

"Guys," Robin quickly intervenes, rolling her eyes as she watches the two bickering all over again over the matter. She was seated comfortably in the chair by your living room's small table, alongside Vicky. "Not this again, please?"

That wasn't enough to silence Eddie and Dustin, who began to argue harder about who is supposed to be the baby's godfather. The usual arguments were professed, "You're not old enough!", "but I'm the most mature!", "The baby's lullaby shouldn't be Dio!", "And it shouldn't be Weird Al Yankovic either!"

Given that he couldn't clap, Steve stomped his foot on the ground as he commanded the room's attention to him again, "Hey, hey, hey!" he exclaimed, letting out a satisfied breath when everyone falls silent again. "So, before we let you hold our daughter, I'd like to go over some rules-".

Loud groans erupt from everyone's mouths, and Amelia looks up at her dad, even more curious.

The kids were squished on the living room's small couch, surprisingly fitting in the space where you and Steve had a hard time adjusting in. Eleven was sitting on the side of the couch's armrest, patiently kicking her feet as Mike, Will, and Dustin elbowed each other in a silent fight for more space by her side. At the end of the couch, Max, Lucas and Erica found a way to position themselves without struggling too much. It was so crowded that poor Suzy had to sit on an old puff that Steve had bought in a garage sale when you moved in together ("It'll come in handy one day, you'll see!" Steve exclaimed while he walked off the sale holding the object, victoriously), right at Dustin's feet. On one side of the sofa, Eddie was slouched on the armrest, while Nancy sat on the other, as put-together as ever. Near her, Jonathan leaned against the apartment's wall, chatting with Argyle and Eden.

Amelia was carefully handed to Dustin, who sat in the middle of the couch. You figured it was the best position to have everyone look at her, an democratic decision, but it was still possible to hear Eddie complaining under his breath.

Your daughter got used to Dustin's hold fast, only shifting her tiny body over his arms a couple of times to find her position. When she did, Amy made one of those adorable baby sounds, showing everyone that she was incredibly satisfied now; and it was like the world had stopped for all of them. The only thing that mattered was to witness baby Harrington simply exist. Feasting your eyes on the scene, you hold Steve's waist, hugging him from behind as you rest your face against his arm, not being able to battle the tears that filled your eyes. Your heart was swelling with pride.

"She's pretty," El murmured, her voice sounding even quieter now, as her eyes sparkled at the sight of the little one.

With a trembling voice, Dustin agreed, "She is very pretty". 

"Yeah," Will says as he watches Millie yawn, "She looks just like you, Y/N". 

"Lucky for her," Mike and Max remark in unison, immediately glaring at each other with narrowed eyes. That makes everyone laugh, and baby Amelia opens up her eyes to check it out, opening a toothless grin after. Max, feeling as if her witty remark was stolen by the boy, adds, "It'd be such a shame if she had Steve's dead-fish stare. Thank God she has Y/N's eyes, too". 

At that, your husband gawks at her, letting out an offended gasp. He's so upset that his mouth hangs open, as he looks at her, in complete silence. Catching his incredulity, Max only shrugs, as if to say, "What can I do?".

"Well, at least she has his hair," Lucas observes, mediating the situation, as usual. 

"Thank you, Lucas!" Steve breathes out, feeling he got the justice he deserved. 

The bickering soon faded into a familiar silence, as everyone's attention fell fully on your little girl, who slept peacefully in Dustin's arms, completely ignoring the commotion around her. And that was when the emotional weight of the moment fell on all of you. Glistened eyes watched in tranquility as the baby squirmed every once in a while, as the importance of the scene settled. Amelia's sole existence reassured you of a peace that you hadn't known in years, as if she was the last step in sealing the serene fate that awaited all of you. She was living proof that life is still normal, and despite all the hard times, it isn't all that bad, actually.

Seeing those grown-up kids taking care of a small piece of you and Steve filled your heart with delight, and a different sense of fulfillment that you hadn't known until now. It's so meaningful. 

The nostalgia of seeing their sweet faces intensified when the kids started to argue about who was going to hold Amelia next, and suddenly the apartment was filled with loud chattering all over again. Just like the old times… but, somehow, better.

"Jonathan, look!" Nancy points out to little Amelia scrunching her nose, as if to suggest that he should snap a picture of the baby like that. Now, the kid was laying in Robin's arms, having her full head of hair brushed by Auntie Bobby – the lame nickname was picked by Steve, of course. "What a cute little nose you have, Amy!"

The oldest Wheeler compliments the baby in a high-pitched tone, as if the girl would actually understand. By her side, Jonathan kept taking pictures of the baby, snapping beautiful frames with that domestic feeling that you're growing used to; he promised that he'll develop all of them later. 

"When's her birthday?" Eden asks quietly, as she smooches her face against Argyle's arm, watching the baby in wonder. 

"October thirty-first," Steve answers quickly, not helping himself. Ever since the baby was born, he started to cultivate this staggering need to answer anything Amelia-related, talking about her constantly as if he didn't know how to chat about anything else.

With that spaced-out way of his, like he just had snapped out of a trance by the baby's birth date, Argyle lets out a chuckle, looking down at Millie with… respect, it seemed. "Ooh, Scorpio. Cool, man". 

Then, everyone falls back into silence, just appreciating her small features and lovable babbles. However, Steve seems a little skeptical about how cool it is for his kid to be a Scorpio, and he slowly turns his head to look at you, giving Argyle a bit of a side-eye when he does so. "What did he mean by that? Isn't that, like, bad?" he whispers to you, still watching your friends interact with Amelia from the corner of his eyes.

"No!" you immediately reassure him, telling a little half-truth, "It just means that she's very… sweet". 

Steve seems satisfied by your answer, mainly because he doesn't ask any further questions, and he goes back to keeping his eyes on Robin, making sure that she's holding your kid correctly. It isn't his fault that she has spaghetti arms, alright? 

Eddie soon joins in, though he doesn't look very pleased about it, walking to stand in front of Robin with an exasperated expression on his face. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at the girl. You watch the scene unfold with confusion. 

"Well?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows as if he is waiting for something, though he doesn't say what it is. 

Rob looks up, still playing with the baby's hair, pursing her lips while she waits for Eddie to explain why he is interrupting her moment with Amelia. From over her shoulder, Vicky makes funny faces at the small girl, making loud squeals come out of your daughter's mouth.

When he doesn't say anything, Robin asks, "What, Munson?", blinking her eyes vigorously as she tilts her head.

"You're taking too long!" he tells her like that was the only answer possible. "It's been fifteen minutes already, it's my turn!"

After Eddie's little protest (thankfully, he didn't feel the need to get on top of your table this time), everyone took turns holding baby Millie in their arms. You didn't mind it, because you knew that your friends were just very excited to be meeting your daughter for the first time, but you cannot say the same for Steve. He was hating every second of it.

"Y/N, I can't take it," he breathes out once he pulls you to the side, hiding with you in the kitchen, away from prying ears, "They're passing her around like a joint". 

"Relax, Stevie," you try to calm him down, though it's useless. Spying into the living room again, you see that Amelia is laying in Eleven's arms, which warms your chest a little. "El's rocking her to sleep, there's no prob-" 

You quickly stop talking when Mike takes the baby from his girlfriend's grasp, having a hard time managing his long limbs around the kid's small frame. Eyes widening, you look to Steve, wanting to catch his reaction to the scene. 

And he's fuming. 

But just as he is getting ready to stomp his way over to Michael, you hold his arm, keeping him back and away from the kids. "Give them a break," is how you begin to reason with him, "he's getting the hang of it". 

"Well, my daughter shouldn't be their little guinea pig," he huffs back, crossing his arms.

"Don't be like that," you persuade. "You didn't know how to hold her either, and now you're, like, a pro. Right?". 

His hardened expression seems to melt at your compliment – Steve always feels so elated whenever people praise his parenting skills, especially when it comes from you. Your husband's cheeks flush a little, and he looks down, a bit bashful. 

"You mean it?" he asks, playing with the loose seems of his yellow sweater.

"Of course, I mean it," giggling, you get closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you pull him in for a hug. "She's so lucky to have you as her dad. Actually, we're so lucky to have you in our lives". 

He chuckles a little, pleased to still gain such flattery from you. From where you stood, you can clearly see the timid redness that cripples from his neck up to his cheeks, which makes him seem even more adorable in your eyes. But even his striking looks didn't distract you from the intimate feeling of his hand resting over the small of your back, drawing you closer for a sweet peck on the lips. It's funny how still after all this time, Steve was able to make you feel endless electricity and warmth just by the simple touch of his lips. 

Unfortunately for you, the pleasant moment was ruined by someone clearing their throat. Pulling apart from the kiss, you and Steve looked ahead, catching Eddie and Dustin's embarrassed faces after interrupting. 

"Hey, so, hm…", Dustin starts, clearly not knowing how he should start, still very awkward succeeding the scene they had just break in on. 

"We have settled on who should be Amy's godfather, and we swear-", Eddie cuts in, talking at full speed. But before he could get on with their (definitely) deep and sensible reasoning, you hear Steve groaning. "Jesus, guys. Not this again".

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve and eddie. 

𖤐 I AM RESTARTING MY TAGLIST! if you want to be added to my taglist, just click here.

[starstruckodysseys]

i’d love you if your name was written nowhere 🤝 whatever you do, you’re gonna do great

[heich0e]

liv dropping the most insane plot line and then running away w/o further explanation

koushi loses his virginity to childhood friend!reader because you tell him that you're scared that when you finally get a boyfriend you won't know what to do. you tell him that he's the only one you trust, and you want it to be him. he doesn't have the heart to tell you it's his first time either, the nerve to say that he's been in love with you since before he even knew what that meant, or the willpower to deny you.

he and daichi move into a little apartment in the city together after high school—suga studying education and daichi at the police academy not too far from the university. it's a good arrangement; they're already more than comfortable together after all these years, and the only way either of them could afford a place that wasn't a shoebox was to live with a roommate. you take a year off after you all graduate high school, staying at home to work part time and figure out what you want to do with your life.

you've always told koushi you want to go to school in tokyo. but tokyo is expensive, so you need time to save up. and tokyo is far, so koushi needs time to steel himself for saying goodbye.

you come to visit him and daichi in sendai often, and frequently spend the night at their place—since the departure of the last train home always seems to creep up on you too quickly when you're with the duo, especially if you've had a few drinks. and when you inevitably look to koushi and bat your eyelashes and ask if you can spend the night instead of racing to the station to catch the last train, he never ever denies you.

spending time with suga and daichi is easy. it's comfortable. even though koushi is the common link between you, daichi was quick to accept you as a part of the deal—having once referred to you as a gift with purchase, which made all of you laugh. sometimes the boys take you out and introduce you to the new friends they've made since graduating. sometimes the three of you just lounge around their living room, drinking cheap beer that one of their senpais bought for them and talking about whatever comes to mind. koushi likes those nights the best—the ones where you're relaxed and soft, and sometimes ask to borrow a sweatshirt that he's all too eager to loan you.

you sleep with koushi a few more times, but don't ever really talk about it. daichi knows how suga feels about you (and has felt about you for all these years) and he warns suga that this isn't good for him. koushi brushes him off every time, probably smiles in a way that's just a little too strained to be sincere, and reassures him everything is fine. daichi doesn't push it, but he does start to treat you a bit differently—a bit more warily, because he resents the way you're hurting his friend.

one evening you come by their apartment before suga's made it back from class—letting yourself in with the spare key he gave you—and wait for him to return. daichi arrives home first after a brutal day at school, he'd gotten a bad score on an assessment and he has a group project due and his group mates are ghosting him. he's frustrated, and seeing you sitting in the living room irritates him. he cracks a beer, and then goes out to the balcony for a cigarette.

you follow him out.

you tease him that smoking is bad for him.

he knows that, and is already kind of annoyed he's picked up the habit since starting university. his reply to you is clipped. you quirk a brow and ask him for a drag. he looks at you, barely holding back all the things he wants to say to you.

you're flirting with him.

koushi has been in love with you since you were kids. has been sleeping with you now for months. and you're here flirting with his best friend.

and maybe that's why daichi goes along with it. maybe he's just stressed out and frustrated and taking it out on you. maybe it's his misguided way of hoping to finally get the message through to koushi that you're not good for him.

he regrets it the moment koushi walks in on the two of you on the sofa the two of them each paid half for—you stradding daichi's lap with your shift off—and sees the look of heartbreak on his best friend's face.

[akai-anna]

@livmadart voice: he's like a bug

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[bluishfrog]

Inspired by "brandy" by justcallme_m (@livingproofoftbd)

Fic Art Friday - event tag - event description

[soultea]

The progresion of power in iZombie is insane.

Like by the end of the show you basically have 6 people running the whole city and they're all besties who probably have a group chat where they discuss how to respond to major world events the way my friends and I talk about planning to go out for drinks.

Think about it you have the woman who runs the largest human smuggling operation in Seattle (who also happens to be one of the only survivors of the original boat party incident that started all of this), her best friend the acting mayor of Seattle, her ex fiance the commander of the private military group that controls the city, her other best friend the creator of the only zombie cure and leader in the field of zombie biology, Clive, and Clive's wife who is the chief of police in charge of all non-zombie crimes in the city.

They're even on a first name basis with the biggest crime lord in Seattle that currently runs three of the most popular zombie hot spots and is in charge of the entire brain trade in and out of the city. Like even if they hate him, they could show up at his place and not get kicked out.

And they use that. The characters actually like each other and talk to each other and fix problems by supporting each other. What other show out there was ever doing it like iZombie?? Rest In Peace bro, you were real for that and you deserved so much more love.