#also it's a little funny how it's easier to turn this into a post than write a review on fanfiction.net

[allisonreader]

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11379077/1/Life-s-Highway

@nurfhurdur guess what else I just started to reread again.

Chapter 1 of Life's Highway, where you already had me hooked and interested to see just what your humanized version would be like.

My current take away, is how while you ended up going a little bit different in route for Hard Enough Left, there's still that tie of Joe (and it not being my much beloved Joe Moore who also shows up later.) It still has such an atmosphere to it. I can't wait to get to my favourite arches again.

[sabertoothwalrus]

hey I have some advice for people that wish they could do more to support artists but maybe can’t do as much financially!!!

leave really positive comments on things you like, and make them as specific as possible.

Literally, nothing makes my day more than a comment that’s really taken the time to analyze my art and describe WHAT about it they liked. this is really helpful for artists for a couple reasons:

many artists have adhd, anxiety, or some other flavor of Brain Stuff, and either respond VERY VERY STRONGLY to praise or (unfortunately) maybe just have a hard time believing their art deserves praise (IT DOES!!)

when comments are specific, that’s sooooooo much more helpful to grow! It’s a lot easier to figure out what you’re doing successfully when people tell you what their favorite part of your art is. But it can also help when you notice your joke doesn’t seem to be landing or if people are reacting a lot differently than you were expecting, and then you can better gauge how to course correct for next time. What stood out to you? Was it visual, aka lines, color, stylization, or composition? Or was it more emotional, aka dialogue, expressions, or poses? How did you feel looking at it?

it feels nice HDHSHJFJD but it does! Plus it works out your art analysis brain a little bit, and you’ll get more precise the more you do it. I love being a little cheerleader in the tags of my friends’ art. Gas em up and give em kisses on the cheek.

Don’t get me wrong, I love all comments. I love people who I can tell make an effort to comment something, even if it’s just a keysmash or incoherent wailing or a simple “I really like this op!” I also LOVE comments that are funny “op you are feeding me like a baby bird” (I have a little folder for screenshots of my favorites heehee).

But, again, it is really appreciated when people give specific, analytic comments. those are comments that turn me into a weeping little puddle. And this is not a “if you never ever comment you’re evil” post, it’s just saying if you do, we notice and thank you for it!

[toppersjeep]

You Didn’t Have To Go -Carlos Sainz X Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You are Carlos race engineer and just got the news of him leaving Ferrari. But you wish he told you rather than you finding out on instagram. So you go to confront him at the car testing. This is also a bit inspired by say don’t go by Taylor Swift.

Your POV

I had learned of Carlos’s departure from ferrai through a post by ferrai and f1. I had no idea he was going to be leaving at the end of this season. It hurt me to know he couldn’t tell me. Especially since I’m race engineer. I thought he was staying.

I walked into the paddock. Charles greeted me as I walked into the garage. I smiled and made my way over to my desk. Carlos walked up.

“So the car looks good” Carlos said I ignored him. “What” Carlos said. I walked away. I then walked over to the car. “I’m just trying to talk to my race engineer” Carlos said I rolled my eyes.

[ I hold my breath a bit little longer…]

“Funny that I’m the last one to find out you are leaving ferrai” I said. “Is that what this is about” Carlos said. “Yes it is do you not trust me enough or something” I said. “I really don’t understand Carlos” I said as everyone looked at us.

He took me into an empty meeting room. And shut the door. I just looked at him.

“I know I should’ve told you I’m really sorry” Carlos said. “Carlos I just don’t get you I thought we were friends” I said. “We are I just didn’t want to see the look on your face” Carlos said. “What look” I said. “The way you’re looking at me now with you’re sad eyes” Carlos said.

[I’m holding out hope for you to say “don’t go” I would stay forever if you say “don’t go”]

“I’m so sorry for caring then” I said. “You think I wanted this I didn’t” Carlos said. “I.. really don’t wanna do this” Carlos said cupping my cheek. “Don’t do that” I said. “I hope you know I care about you so much” Carlos said I got teary eyed.

“Please don’t do that” I said. “I… know I should’ve told you about me leaving” Carlos said. “Please don’t” I said moving his hand. “Y/N please listen to me” Carlos said. “Why should I” I said. “Because I” Carlos said. I then grabbed my stuff off the table. But he grabbed my arm and stopped me from leaving.

“Don’t go” Carlos said. “We have work to do” I said. “But I need to talk to you” Carlos said. “Carlos I get it you are leaving” I said. “Please let me explain” Carlos said. “No” I said turning to face him. “Y/N I can’t bare to have you so upset with me” Carlos said.

“Carlos you’ll move on to another team and I’m be here” I said. “Eventually you’ll forget about me they all do” I said. “How could I forget you” Carlos said. “Just make it easier for yourself and leave me alone” I said looking away from him.

He then made me look up at him. I looked deep into his brown eyes.

“Why did you have to make me want you” Carlos said. “What” I said. “I love you Y/N I always have” Carlos said. I just looked at him and didn’t say anything to him.

[I said “I love you” you say nothing back]

I then walked out of the door. And went back to my desk. Carlos walked over to his car. He didn’t even look at me.

“Cars running good” Charles said. “That’s great” I said. “Are you okay you look like you were crying” Charles asked. “Just my allergies I think” I said. “Well if you need someone to talk to I’m here” Charles said. “Thanks but I’m alright Char” I said. “Alright I’ll let you get back to work” Charles said walking away.

Later on..

I grabbed my bag and walked to my car. Carlos stood up against it. I rolled my eyes and walked over.

“What” I said he then pulled me into a kiss. “Carlos” I said. “Just let me” he said I then kissed him back. He wrapped his arms around my waist. I circled my arms around his neck.

[“cause you kiss me and it stops time”]

“You have no idea how much I love you” Carlos said. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you anything I couldn’t” Carlos said. “I just can’t picture you driving anywhere else” I said teary eyed. “Oh amour that’s not going to change anything between us” Carlos said. “You promise” I said.

“I promise you I will always be by your side even if we don’t work together” Carlos said. “Can you say it again” I said with a smile. “I love you Y/N all of you every single thing about you” he said I smiled. “Even all of your imperfections not that you have any” Carlos said I laughed.

“Oh really all of me” I said. “Even your sassiness” Carlos said kissing my face. “Stop” I said giggling. “Let me make it up to you” Carlos said. “What do you have in mind” I said. “I’m going to take the most beautiful race engineer I know on a date” Carlos said. “I’d be honored” I said.

(Part 2)

[mariposa-writes]

Stressed - Travis Kelce

Travis Kelce x reader

Summary: Travis just wants to help you.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Trying to put more Travis fics out there, since there are barely any. This is my first time ever posting on here, please let me know what you think. Thanks and have a great day!

You sat at Travis's dining room table, looking over your stack of bills. It felt like they were never-ending, and it seemed like no mattered how much you worked there was never enough money.

You were constantly stressed, over everything. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd felt even slightly relaxed. The bills you received yesterday, were much higher than expected. Then you had to find time to work at your job while interning at KPMG, one of the top accounting firms. Not to mention you had 3 essays due soon along with multiple assignments. Plus Travis had some event he wanted you to attend, where you would officially be showing up as a couple.

You guys had decided to keep your relationship on the DL for the past year and managed to keep your relationship hidden from the public.

Travis placed a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You hadn't even noticed that he'd gotten home. "Hey, it's just me." He chuckled, finding your reaction funny. You got up out of your chair, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "Sorry," you mumbled before cleaning up the mess you'd created on his dining room table.

You quickly hid the bills under some of your notes, not wanting Travis to know you were struggling. You knew Travis all too well, knowing he would want to do anything he could to help you, whether that meant paying off your student debt or paying all of your bills. Hell, he'd probably even higher someone to write your essay's for you if you asked.

You were his world, and he was willing to do anything to make your life easier.

You quickly shoved the papers into your backpack, "I'll get started on dinner. I didn't realize what time it was." You said, getting ready to head into the kitchen.

"Hey," Travis grabbed your wrist, leading you back to him. "What's wrong?"

You blinked a few times, "Nothing, everything's fine. Just tired." You plastered a smile on your face, trying to be convincing. His eyes narrowed, clearly not believing you.

He sighed, deciding to let it go. "Why don't I cook tonight." He suggested, "You can go take a relaxing bath or something."

"Are you sure?" You asked knowing Travis didn't normally cook, "I can help if you want?"

"Babe, don't worry, I actually can cook, believe it or not." He laughed slightly.

"Not," you mumbled. You'd guys been together for a little over a year, and he hardly ever cooked. If you didn't feel like cooking, then you'd guys either order in, or he'd have his private chef come cook up a meal.

He slapped your butt as you turned to walk away, "I heard that." You laughed before rushing up the stairs to take a shower.

You loved Travis's shower, especially when he was with you. Sadly he was cooking dinner, so you had to enjoy the waterfall shower alone. At least you got to make the water scolding hot when you were alone, Travis always accused you of trying to burn your skin off with how hot you liked the water.

After your shower you changed into one of his shirts, that went to mid thigh on you and threw on some shorts you had in the dresser Travis had gotten for you 6 months ago.

You ventured down stairs with a smile on your face, feeling slightly relaxed after your shower. You could also smell the food from down stairs and it surprisingly smelled delicious.

Your smile quickly left your face when you turned the corner and saw Travis standing over your bag, with papers in hand. "What are you looking at?" You asked, despite already knowing what he was looking at.

Travis dropped the papers on the table, "Why didn't tell me you were struggling to pay your bills? Is this why you've been so distant lately?" His words were unexpected, you didn't think you'd been distant lately. You always tried to be in the present when you were with him.

You snatched the papers up and shoved them back into your bag. "You had no right to look through my stuff." You seethed. You couldn't believe he actually went in your bag and looked through your personal belongs.

"Well, I feel like I have to cause you'll barely talk to me anymore." Travis threw his hands up, frustrated at the situation.

You walked to the kitchen and grabbed your keys from the counter. You hated fighting and all you could think about was getting out of there before it got worse. "I have homework, I need to go home and finish it." You stated, walking out of his front door and to your car.

"Y/n" He called, following you. You ignored him, opening you car door and getting in. He caught the door before you could slam it shut. "Babe, don't leave please. We can talk about this."

"Trav," you pleaded. "I don't wanna fight right now. I just wanna go home."

"Bab-" you interrupted him by closing the door, starting your car and backing out of the driveway. He stood there watching you the whole time.

_____

The next day you had gotten up and went to your classes. Travis had been texting you all day, but you weren't responding.

You didn't know what to say, you felt like Travis had invaded your private information. Travis was an open book, he would tell you anything you asked. But you were more closed off.

You didn't trust people as easily as him. Maybe, because of the way you grew up. You learned to be independent form a young age and your mom always taught you to never trust anyone.

This caused some issues between you and Travis, even if you didn't realize. Like the time he bought you a car because, he didn't want you driving your old beater that had trouble starting up during the winter.

He worried that it would break down and you'd get stranded somewhere. Well, you're still driving that car and Travis has a spare car parked in his garage since he refused to return it.

You walked up to your apartment, feeling even more tired than normal. You hadn't been home all day, after your classes ended at 2 you went to the place you're interning at and worked until 6, then you went to your other job and worked till close.

It was now 11:15 and when you opened your door, you didn't expect to see Travis sitting on your bed. His head snapped up when the door opened and you walked through. "Trav, what-"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have looked through your stuff. I don't wanna fight, I love you so much baby and it kills me when you're mad at me." He was now standing in front of you cupping your face with his hands. "I just want to make your life easier. You could've told me you were struggling. I would've helped you pay your bills."

You sighed, leaning into his hand. Travis loved physical contact, while you were the opposite. You hated hugging your friends, or anyone for that matter. But when it came to Travis you craved his touch. "That's why I didn't tell you. I knew you would want to pay for everything and fix it. I can handle it myself, I've been doing it for the past 22 years. "

"Just cause you have been doing it doesn't mean you still have too. I'm here now, you're not alone anymore." Tears started to well up in your eyes.

"But what happens when I become dependent on you, and you leave me" He tried to cut you off, to tell you that'd never happen but you kept going. "Trav, you have literal super models in your dm's. What if you wake up one day and realize you don't wanna be with me and you want to be with one of them." You were crying now, you'd never voiced these fears to Travis. He wiped every tear that fell away with his thumb. "Then I'm alone and I don't know how to function on my own anymore, because I'm so dependent on you."

"Babe, I'm never gonna leave you." He knew where these thoughts were coming from. "I'm not your father, I would never leave you because I thought I found something better."

"How do you know?"

"Because I already know that you're the best there is." He took your hand in his. "Babe, we fit together so well. You fit with my family so well. Jason and his family love you, my parents love you, and most importantly I love you. So I'm begging you to stop shutting me out. Turn to me when you need help."

"I love you too Kelce." He leaned down, his lips meeting yours. His tongue slipped between your lips, making you moan. You were certain that he was the best kisser in the world. This continued for a few minutes, you growing wetter by the minute.

"Move in with me." He said, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes widening, "and before you say no, just know that I've been thinking about this for a while. This isn't a split second decision."

Your mind told you no, but for once you decided to listen to your heart. "Yes." He smiled, before his lips meet yours again. He lead you over to your bed and you two had the best night of your life.

[banquetwriter]

hellooo! can i request johnnie x reader, where his tweets are about a song but the fans think they broke up because y/n also had a suspicious tweet like him!! thank you i hope you have a wonderful day!

୨୧ Assumptions ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ short (I'm sorry) fluff tbh

summary: ʚ the fans get the wrong idea when you and Johnnie tweet lyrics of his new song ɞ

Words: 1299

An: this is short but honestly it's so sweet and I loved doing this!!

SUPPORT ME

You made sure to keep balance with the plate and cup in your hands as you approached your office room. You had finally convinced Johnnie to start editing in your office since he moved in. You both even set up a little recording spot for him complete with a spooky background.

You walked up to the door and knocked against it slightly using your foot. After a moment or two the door opened with a slightly worn-looking Johnnie. “Hey what's all this for?” he asked, opening the door for you. “Well you have been working so hard on your new song I thought I outta surprise you.”

You say with a big smile holding up his cup of tea and chips. “Eh, I'm really proud of this song. I just hope it, you know, does well,” he says with a short laugh at the end of his sentence. You smile while walking to the couch that is directly next to his editing chair.

The one you sat at and relaxed while he would stream. The whole world seemed so in love with you two dating. Everyone loved how well you two worked. And you loved it too. “I'm sure they will babe. I think you fucking killed it with this song,” you spoke moving your legs up to your chest and setting the food on the desk.

He smiles as you sit down in his chair and start to click around on his computer. You plucked a chip off of his plate scrolling around Twitter. “Hey, quit stealing my chips,” Johnnie said, staring at you accusingly.

You pause looking up at him, blinking slowly for a second. “When your dick gets bigger I will,” you said with a faux smile. He giggles at your comment, turning back to the computer, his fingers reaching for the coffee mug.

“Be careful, I think the tea is still pretty hot.” you half mumble the warning before putting the chip in your mouth. “I'll drink whatever the fuck I want bitch.” he says in a sassy, Timmy-esque voice. He takes a small sip of the tea before yanking the cup away from his mouth. “Fuck!” he shouts as the hot piqued burned his mouth.

You let out a loud laugh at his reaction, covering your mouth as you did so. “Aahh fuck you!” he yelps again searching for a drink of something colder. You snicker looking back down at your phone. Twitter was usually an awful place to be and it wasn't any different than this time.

You banned Johnnie from looking up his name on social media sites, and it wasn't good that you still did it but occasionally you liked to check in on fans and see what was popular amongst the fandom.

Most were hyping up the newest video you had posted this week and taking clips from it as reactions. Your fans were so funny, like genuinely. It blew you away that people found you so funny.

Of course, there were a select few that were not ideal. One about how You and Johnnie haven't posted in a while, and that you two must have broken up. They were not true by any means. With Johnnie's new song coming out soon it was easier for him to bulk-record videos so he had more time during the day to work on it.

Johnnie had finally calmed down from burning the shit out of his mouth. “How much of the new song have you teased?” you asked using your foot to spin his chair so he faced you. You continued to munch on a few chips, eating all the food you brought for your boyfriend.

“Honestly not much just that I have a new song coming out, not even a date or anything,” he said, grabbing a chip too. “Mmm we should start doing more to promote it, well sorry, you should do more this isn't my song,” you murmur using your ring finger to tap around your phone with your chip-dust-covered hands.

“Mmm, I feel like it's both of our songs in a way, I mean yeah I performed it and edited it but you helped me write it. You're also helping me by taking care of me.” he gestured to his tea as he took a sip.

You smiled at his words. It was nice when credit was given for things like this. This was Johnnie's song but you did help him with the lyrics. It was about the heartbreak of getting older, the lyrics sounding like you were talking to time.

The idea simmered down into a few words; it was like breaking up with time. The lyrics were akin to a breakup song. It was a cool idea and one you dealt with as you grew older. You even starred in the music video as the “time” character.

“What were we thinking of doing?” he murmured with his mouth full. “Maybe tweeting a few of your lyrics? Something you wouldn't normally rant about I guess,” you suggested dusting your fingers off.

“That could be cool, we should do it from the chorus or something,” he said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Yeah for sure,” you mumbled absentmindedly, moving the chair with your foot still.

Over the next few days you both tweeted lyrics from the song. ‘I will forever mourn the loss of us’ and ‘You can't stay innocent to it forever’ got the most likes. Unfortunately, you two were now trending. “What the fuck are we going to do?” you asked looking at the #Johnnieandy/nbreakup tag.

“Just ignore them? The song comes out soon anyway,” he reassured you, his thumb rubbing the side of your thigh. Your legs rested on his lap as you cuddled up next to him.

You still didn't like the idea that everyone thought you two broke up. You can see how someone might think that from your guy’s tweets. And yes you shouldn't assume something about someone online but that just means your fans care about you. Doesn't it?

After a few days, you both released another video on each other's YouTube channels. The entire comments were filled with asking where the other person was. If you two had really broken up this would have been awful. Thank god you hadn't.

You both decided that you two should make at least one video addressing the rumors. On one of your tik toks someone had commented ‘Did you and Johnnie break up?’ so you replied to the comment with a video.

“Hey guys so a lot of people have been asking if me and my boyfriend Johnnie broke up, so today we are going to go ask him,” you said holding the phone up to your face as if introducing a vlog.

The next shot was of your feet walking up to Johnnie sitting on the couch. “Hey babe?” you asked, pointing the camera at him. “Yeah?” he answered back looking up at you. “Did we break up?” you ask as if it was a normal question.

“Umm last time I checked no,” he replied back trying to hold his smile back. “Oh ok, sweat just checking. Love you,” you said back moving the phone down as he broke his serious face and laughed with you.

You posted the tik tok captioned “addressing the rumors”

You cuddled up next to him and read the comments. Most of them were making fun of others for assuming things. The other half was just talking about how cute the two of you were together.

The following day the song and music video were posted and the feedback was worth it. You were so proud of Johnnie and all he had done but this song meant so much to both of you.

[devildom-moss]

This is sort of a joke so only do this if you want to but: brothers with an mc who eats moss like kris from deltarune. It's..... weirdly attractive? There's a sheep joke to be made here

Sometimes we need a silly little joke, and that's okay. I hope you like it anon. Is the moss thing related to this blog name or is it just random? Also, I don't know who that is - and I had to look up what deltarune is. Maybe it's an age thing or maybe it's just one of those topics I know nothing about. Either way~

Also, I'll be honest, I set up an excel sheet with all of my requests organized by post type before I did this request. Now I feel more organized. Yay.

The demon brothers react to MC eating moss

(SFW) (silliness)

Word Count: +1,600

Lucifer

No. No. No. No. “Spit that out right now, MC.”

They’re going to give this poor single parent of 6 an aneurysm. Moss could be dangerous for MC. Where did they even get that? Did they at least wash it before shoveling it into their mouth?

What is he going to tell Diavolo if moss gets them sick? “Yeah, sorry about needing you to call a human doctor for MC. I looked away from them for one minute, and they started eating moss.” He has a responsibility to keep MC safe.  

Lucifer is the type to order MC to get a psych eval when he sees them eating moss. He knows it’s weird and potentially dangerous. This kind of unusual behavior should be closely monitored by a professional.

He’ll nearly lose his mind believing that MC had definitely lost theirs.

“What in the Devildom has gotten into you? Have you utterly lost it? MC, I can’t handle these kids on my own anymore. I need you to be sane and relatively normal, please.”

Please don’t do this to him. Lucifer needs stability in his life, and eating moss is not the picture of stability.

He will make MC’s potential problem about him for a bit in true bad single parent fashion.

Mammon

“The hell ya doin’?!”

Mammon will not hesitate to point out how weird he thinks they are. He doesn’t want to hurt MC’s feelings, but he can’t stop himself from giving them a look of confusion and light disgust.

“That can’t possibly taste good, can it? Ya can’t just go ‘round eatin’ any plant ya see.”

Once the initial surprise works through him, he’s just worried about MC eating something weird. What would he do if they got sick? What would he tell Lucifer? He’s their guardian, and he takes that role more seriously than he likes to let on.

Mammon’s the most likely to try to physically remove the moss from MC’s mouth (but Lucifer is a close second). It could be dangerous. He’ll confiscate MC’s moss if they have any left and keep a close eye on them.

His search history from that day will be telling. “is moss dangerous for humans” “is moss dangerous for humans to eat” “types of moss that are safe for humans to eat” “how to tell if my human is sick” “human ate something bad what happens” “why did my human eat moss” “is my human mentally ill” “Devildom human doctors near me” “human-friendly moss” “good dates for humans” “how to charm weird humans” “how to romance weird humans no magic” (He got distracted.)

Leviathan

Levi finds it funny (and he probably actually knows which character you’re referencing, anon). It’s weird, sure, but he figures whatever MC is doing, it’s pretty harmless.

He wonders if that applies to algae. It might make cleaning out his fish tanks a bit easier if MC can and wants to eat it. The thought pops into his head, but Levi decides against it.

It’s strangely comforting that MC has something weird and arguably off-putting about them. Usually, he’s the weird, gross one. (This is where creepy Levi kicks in and he wants to know more about MC’s weird habits. Maybe if it turns out that they’re super weird, he can keep them all to himself. However, Levi lets his creepy thoughts go as quickly as they came.) Levi unlocked new information. Friend points +50. MC’s charm points +30.

“If I kiss you right now, that’s close enough to touching grass, right?” That’s a thing he’s supposed to do, isn’t he? Shit. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it’s too late.

Levi’s one of the brothers who will just let MC be and do their thing. He might double check and make sure MC isn’t going to get sick, but after that, he’ll leave them be. It’s not really his business. If it makes MC happy, he won’t judge.

Satan

Oddly supportive boyfriend.

The man’s a little feral and weird. I think he would find it kind of precious and adorable; it’s kind of like how cats like to eat grass.

He’d spend a while figuring out which mosses are safe to consume, asking MC if they have any preferences for which moss types they enjoy. Do they prefer certain textures and mouth feels? Are certain colors preferable? Which moss tastes the best?

Then, he would set up a moss terrarium for MC filled with their favorite mosses. Satan may ask them to help him build it as a cute little craft date. This way, MC will have a way to safely snack on moss whenever they wish. A terrarium has the added benefit of MC being able to control where the moss comes from so that they can avoid any harmful bacteria, viruses, pesticides, etc.

Of course, Satan understands that eating moss is unusual, and he may question what it is that compels MC to eat moss, but he doesn’t see the need to stop it.

He may taste the moss himself (in the same way that someone with a pet may be tempted to try pet food). It would, in all likelihood, disappoint him, but MC’s enjoyment is all that matters.

Satan has a real “MC can have a bit of moss – as a treat” kind of mindset. He’ll probably try to see if he can hand-feed MC like they’re a stray cat. He’s weird, too, but we love him.

Asmodeus

“Honey, no. This isn’t how we transition into our feral era.”

Asmo thinks it’s kind of gross, but he asks if maybe eating moss is good for the skin or something (because he can’t think of any other reason MC would even consider eating moss).

When they tell him that’s not why, he gives them a troubled stare with his arms crossed over his stomach. “Uhm, hun. Why are you eating it then?”

Even if MC tells him that it tastes good, there’s no way he’s trying it unless it has incredible health and beauty effects. He can’t stomach the thought of it.

After the disgust washes over him, the concern floods his system instead. He asks if MC is sure that they can and should be eating moss. Regardless of what MC tells him, Asmo will go to Satan or Lucifer (probably both) to make sure that MC isn’t putting themselves in any danger. He couldn’t handle it if MC got sick. All that stress would destroy his skin (and break his heart beyond repair).

Once he ensures MC’s health, he tries to just let MC do their thing. “Just please don’t eat that stuff around me, ‘kay? And if you eat it, please brush your teeth before you kiss me.”

Beelzebub

“Aw, MC, are you hungry? I’m sure we have something more delicious than moss in the fridge. I was just on my way to get a snack. I’ll pick one up for you too, okay?”

He’s probably eaten some moss in his time. He’s no stranger to eating weird things, so his reaction is the least judgmental.

Sometimes moss looks delicious, right? It just makes sense to him that they would want to try eating it.

Beel will definitely ask them to spare some of their moss so he can try it, too. If the moss tastes relatively bad, he might be weary of their tastes in the future, but as long as eating it won’t hurt them, Beel doesn’t care.

Beel is probably the only one who would try to suggest tastier methods of eating the moss. “What about putting it on top of ice cream? Or maybe in a cheeseburger. Mmm. . . cheeseburger. A moss salad might be more appetizing, too. I could blend it into a smoothie or some soup for you. How does that sound?”

It makes him feel a bit comforted that they both have eating habits that others think are weird – like it brings them closer and is a special connection only they can share.

Belphegor

He’s seen Beel bite into a pillar at the castle when he’s hungry. He’s not too troubled by a bit of moss-eating.

Belphie trusts MC not to be stupid enough to ingest moss that would be toxic to them, and not worrying saves him a bit of energy and time. Additionally, I think Belphie would be relatively knowledgeable about plants, so he would probably be able to tell if what MC is eating is likely to kill them.

For the most part, he just doesn’t care. MC could even kiss him with fresh moss breath, and he won’t give a shit. It’s probably better than morning or fish breath, and he’s still getting a kiss, so he doesn’t see a reason to complain.

He won’t be ultra supportive like Satan, but he will be a bit more enthusiastic about it than others – mostly because it gives him an idea for a prank. He could make soup with moss in it, have MC bring a bowl to Lucifer, and eat one themselves so he isn’t suspicious. Then Lucifer would end up eating moss soup. He could probably do that with multiple types of food, too.

One (stupid) point of contention will be that Belphie thinks moss is better as a pillow than as a snack, but he acknowledges that’s a ridiculous difference of opinion. However, that could be a nice date idea: find a mossy forest where he can take a nap while MC gets to snack on moss.

He will probably get scolded by Lucifer and Mammon for enabling MC’s behavior (and not at all because he goes on weird moss dates with MC).

[gnabnahc-143]

Stuck with you | B.C

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Summary: 4 times people were convinced you and chan were in love + 1 time you finally realized why

Genre: 4+1, best friends to lovers, indenial motherfucker, high school AU, just fluff really

wc: 5.8k (the way this is the longest fic I’ve ever written, not my fault I love Chan)

Song suggestions: Sick of you - Suriel Hess

Note: pretend Minho and Chan are the same age😅. Also this is me trying to delay posting chapter 2 of the way I loved you.

BONUS | skz reaction to you two finally getting together

1.

God you fucking hated math. It’s funny you chose to take the hardest math class offered, funny how you transferred from a class way easier, getting way better grades, claiming to love the subject and wanting to be challenged, all because of a boy.

Bang Chan had been your best friend for a little over 3 years in your junior year and you felt yourselves drift a part as you chose classes far different from each other, to better suit the paths each of you were going to take. Spending most of your time with him online or the passing times in the hallway when you encounter the other as he spent most breaks with his own set of friends, the boys you grew fond of, whilst you spent it with your girls. Transferring became an option when you realized your math grades were outstanding, having a natural gift for it albeit your hatred, and your friends started questioning why you hadn’t chosen a harder class. When you brought it up, he had eagerly begged you, being in that very class, he wanted to spend more time with you.

Being utterly weak (and whipped) for him, you relented, figuring it couldn’t be that much harder as the class you were in was only a level easier, oh how wrong you were. Now in your senior year you sat in the corner table of the math class, away from the chaos of your gifted peers carelessly chatting, clutching your hair in confusion.

“I can’t believe they have time to talk, I’m actually going to fail this class” your friend Lisa, a girl you got closer to after transferring, had said as she sat in the table in front of you. The class was built so that each table could only fit one person, and you two had always chosen to sit on the tables in the corner end of the classroom, finding it better to focus that way.

“I know, I’m pretty sure the shit we’re learning is university level” you groaned, releasing the grasp on your hair as you leaned back into your chair. She laughed and agreed, you two fell into a light conversation whilst continuing to focus on studying, eyes trained precisely on the piece of paper that you were sure would haunt your dreams from now on. You noticed she had gone quiet and you turned ahead to see why.

“Need any help?” Speak of the devil that had put you in the very situation that had you miserable. He was smiling at you, amused at the way you had your eyebrows furrowed almost permanently. You turned to glare at your best friend, rolling your eyes, “I don’t know how you convinced me to transfer” you pouted. He giggled as he pulled up a chair next to you, squeezing his way into the table, frowning you turned to him, confused to why he had opted to join your struggles instead of joining his chattering friends. Chris was, to put it lightly, a genius, so he had no reason to join your misery parade yet he did like many times before. You were friends with the people in your class, but you preferred to stay away from the chaos, indulging in your introverted nature. Chan, although an extrovert, always seemed to join you instead of the crowd which confused you but you never questioned it, instead welcoming his company.

“I wouldn’t have supported it if I didn’t know how smart you were, maybe you’re just making it harder than it needs to be” he said in sympathy, continuing on to explain the shortcuts you could take to solve the exact equation that were filled with scribbles of your past attempts. In the end you noticed he was right (or maybe he had a gift of making you memorize and analyze any of his words) as now you had easily finished all the equations given…and in record time.

“See, wasn’t that hard was it?” He teased, patting your head proudly. You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless at the caring boy, glad you had him next to you. From then on you two had continued into a conversation, laughing at his attempts to joke, and opting to stay with each other instead of joining the group. By the time the bell had rung, you both were in the midst of a very competitive online chess game (which both of you were a completely novice at).

“Guess we have to end the game” he said with a shining smile, you laughed at his glee, claiming he was only happy as he was clearly losing whilst he laughed in response. He went back to his table to pack his bags, while you chuckled, shaking your head fondly at your dimpled best friend.

Your next class was English which you had also shared with Lisa, turning to her, you were about to ask if she was ready to go when you saw her smirking at you, lifting her eyebrows. “Finally back to earth?” She asked, laughing at your confusion. “I swear you guys are in love” she said, you blushed at the statement, jumping to deny her. Her laughs increased at your refusal shaking her head as she packed her things.

“What do you mean by that, I swear you guys always say it but I really don’t understand why” chuckling in disbelief you’d stated. Her laughter came to a halt, now looking at you in disbelief, finally realizing you were genuinely confused. “You’re joking right?” She said, halting her actions “think about it y/n, you guys are closer than normal friends, he looks at you differently to everyone else, he even acts differently around you. The minute any of you are in each others presence it’s like everyone else doesn’t exist, you guys get into your own worlds, in your own conversations” she pointed out, listing to what you thought were nonsense.

“He’s friends with a bunch of girls, mr popular remember? He’s like that with everyone, that’s why people love him, he makes them feel special” you rebutted, spluttering against your words. “Do you feel special?” She countered, asking. You stayed silent but truly the answer was predictable, he truly made everyone feel like they meant something. “Just think about it, he’s friends with me too, I know how he is with girls, he isn’t like how he is with you. Plus in the hour of our class, he never once looked or spoken to me, it’s always like that whenever you’re in the room, he won’t talk to anyone else or pay attention to them.” At that she ended the topic, you tried to brush it off as you both left the class and fell into mindless small talk but the lingering thought of her words stayed still in the corner of your mind.

2.

“Have you decided where you’re gonna go for uni?” Chan asked as you both sat on the school field, under a tree watching his friends play football like their life depended on it. On any other day you two would part ways during lunch, spending time with each others respective friend groups, but today he’d ask you to join him. In his seasonal clingy nature, claiming he’d barely spent time with you lately.

“You know I’ve always wanted to go overseas, see a different part of the world” you replied, being truthful as you never thought of staying in Korea. University always seemed like your chance of a getaway car, leaving your life left behind, leaving parts of your self you hated behind, memories of past regrets. Recently though you’ve come to realize maybe your past would never leave you and that the only thing you could do was accept that you’ve grown, accept that you’ve changed, these epiphanies coming to light with the aid of your dimpled best friend.

Speaking of which you’ve notice have become silent as you uttered your thoughts, simply lost in thought, keeping his eyes trained on his friends. “If I do, don’t miss me too much yeah” you teased, trying to break the tense atmosphere. He snapped his eyes towards yours, a small smile broke on his face as he rolled his eyes, ruffling your head in the process. He adjusted your positions to lie his head on your lap, as you started stroking his black locks.

Truthfully he was the only thing holding you down, the idea of leaving not being phased by even your friends as they too had ideas of leaving to different countries to study, so really there was no reason for you to, no reason except him. You knew Chris would stay in Korea, having dreams of producing music with his friends, studying it’s art and working freelance until he eventually gets signed (which you knew would happen considering his talent).

“I will miss you” He said, his sad expression coming back, your eyes softening at the look. Although your friendship was always playful, filled with laughter and teasing, he also never held back his affections. It was clear to everyone he loved you, whether that was as a friend or lover was the debate, he spoiled you as his best friend and you reciprocated. There were even days where you cherished each others company so much that all you did was lay on his bed on your phone in silence as he worked on songs on his desk, simply cause he wanted you to be there.

You frowned, continuing your ministrations on his hair after a soft pat to his cheek. “Come on, I haven’t left yet let’s not be all sentimental” you chuckled “hell I haven’t even decided if I am gonna leave, all is still on the fence”. He chuckled nodding, an ounce of hope bringing a blinding smile to his face, his eyes forming to crescents. For the rest of the lunch you continued to talk to each other, some topics even leading to animated arguments and ending in laughter, when it came back to the topic of the future. Somehow in the midst of the conversation, you started talking about marriage, the idea of a perfect future with whoever you chose to love forever.

“Well I want one kid, maybe a son if I got to choose but of course I’d love them all the same if it was a daughter. I’d spoil the death out of them, give them everything and raising them well enough to be grateful for it, well enough to make them want to give as well. I’d have to work for it though so I’d want a husband whose job wouldn’t be as demanding as mine, maybe an artistic type? That way they could be at home whilst still focusing on their dreams, not letting it get in the way of achieving what they want” you ranted, rambling in a daze of recounting your daydreams. Unknowing of the loving fond gaze that was held in Chans gaze as he grinned at your running rambles, holding his laugh in at your enthusiasm in the topic.

As you turned to him, you mistook the fondness for amusement, blushing at the influx of words that had spilled out of you. “Sorry…” you apologized sheepishly, fiddling with your ear. “It’s just something I’ve always thought of to be honest, a perfect ending you know” you continued, trying to save yourself from looking like a crazed planner. He laughed and nodded, assuring you that he too has thought about it like every other person. As you asked him what he thought of, he drifted off in thought, trying to gather all his daydreams. Before he could continue, the boys had joined you, sitting down next to you both…well more like collapsing onto you both.

“Who the hell suggested to play on the hottest day of the year” you heard Jisung complain as he was lying starfish next to Chan. You both looked at each other and laughed at the dramatic mess of boys amongst you, forgetting your past conversation and involving them in a new one. You were again oblivious to the occasional stares and smiles to you gifted by the boy who unknowingly to even yourself caught your heart.

When lunch came to a close, you left with Minho, who unexpectedly became one of the closest friends you’ve gained from Chan, only second to the boy himself, as both of you were heading to home EC.

“Sooo what were you and Chris talking about” the cat-like boy teased whilst wiggling his eyebrows, as you wondered the implication of his question.

“Just our hopes for the future, why?” You asked.

“I don’t know he looked pretty…whipped if you know what I mean” again smirking knowingly at you, whilst you were still stumped to the looks given. You explained the conversation in detail, knowing the nosy boy wouldn’t accept any less. As you went into a ramble on how you had detailed your ideal type to Chris, you saw realization crawl into his face as he muttered an “ahh…”, nodding in confirmation. You looked at him in question, wondering what he discovered to confirm his suspicions of Chan being so called “whipped”.

“God you guys are meant to be or something” he said, chuckling in disbelief still holding the same knowing smirk (one you used to be consistently annoyed by before getting used to it). He shook his head as the confusion has yet to leave your face, ever the menace, he pinched your ear in response. Rolling your eyes you realized this is another one of your friends agenda to insist the romantic love between you and Chris, your conversation with Lisa still plaguing your mind. “Don’t look at me like that, in a few months we’ll be able to say we told you so. With the rate you two are going it might actually be a few years” he said, whispering the last sentence to himself.

Chuckling you decide against arguing as you both had arrived to the class, before it could start however he turned to you “just do me a favor and ask him his ideal future when you see him yeah” he said, ending the conversation as you added the interaction to a collection of thoughts you’d stored in the back of your mind, where many moments revolving Chris was safely repeated. You wondered how you were ever going to concentrate on school as this section of your brain had gotten increasingly big, sometimes even taking the forefront of your mind.

3.

You were concerned, very fucking concerned. On any other day, you wouldn’t bat an eye at the fact that you hadn’t spent time with Chan in a long time (which to you two was only a couple days). That being said, you couldn’t help but grow suspicious when the boys had come to you in confusion as they realized that they too had not seen the eldest of the group in days. At first you brushed it off, as it had been the seniors break before the exams, you blamed his silence on spending time with the family or studying for the finals. Though as you saw him continue his swimming practices in a concentrated face, in silence and away from his usual peers, your concern grew. The only reason you had come to campus was to spend the day studying at the library, hoping to catch some of your teachers for help, but that plan was completely abandoned as you saw your best friend sit quietly by the pool.

“Never took you as a loner” you said as you approached him, smiling in comfort as you noticed his frustrations. He smiled back but you knew it was forced, you had known the guy for almost 5 years at this point and when you say that there was little you could hide from each other, it was not an exaggeration. Being almost tied to the hip for the first 2 years of knowing each other, over the years you grew to read him extremely well, and vice versa.

Silence overtook the two of you as you waited for him to open up, him knowing you caught on to his facade. “What if I don’t make it?” He started “I’ve done everything to make my parents proud, medals from the swim team, good grades, hard classes. I did all of it to make them proud because I know that when I graduate, it will be long until I’ll be able to do that. I’m not gonna be a successful producer from the get-go, I know that, so what if I’m wasting all of this? Making them proud and leaving them with disappointment just to see it was for nothing” continuing into a rant. You looked at him in sympathy, rubbing his back as you saw tears well up in his eyes.

“Chris look at me” you said, wiping his tearful cheeks as he turned to you. “You are the most selfless person I know, you gave up your childhood to be the best student I know, took in a group of juniors and sophomores for no reason just to help and now they’re also some of the smartest people I know. Look you are so fucking talented, you’ve been making music since you could talk, I think your parents have known for a long time what you wanted to do and considering I’ve had long talks with them about our futures, they have no doubts in you, trust me they’ll be happy no matter the path you take. Be selfish Chris for once in your life, you won’t regret it, because at the end of the day, no matter how smart I know you are, you could never do an office job” you rambled, ending the rant with a slight tease to bring a smile to his face and successfully doing so.

“And when you inevitably become a big shot producer, because I know how talented you are and so I know you will, I’ll be cheering you on the sidelines in MY boring old office job as your biggest fan. No pressure though CB97.” You continued, teasing him lightly again with an alias you knew he’d started going by as he finally started publishing his music. After a moment of silence and exchanging grins, he thanked you, putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Ew you’re still wet” you said, scrunching your face but not leaving his embrace, the sour look on your face quickly disappearing as you heard his laugh. After a moment of small talk, both of you parted as he had to go to the showers whilst you had to continue your initial plans of studying, all whilst the grins on both of your faces had yet to leave your face and would continue to be etched on for the rest of the day.

Days after, Minho told you that Chris had gone back to replying to texts, seeming to slowly go back to normal, but he had also still avoided plans to hangout with them. This confused you as Minhos text had also been accompanied with a text from Chris to hang out, either way you were happy to spend time with the boy and eagerly accepted.

Now you sat in the movie theater with him, excitedly waiting for the new Deadpool sequel to start. As the ads and trailers played you fell into a comfortable conversation, not once mentioning his absence and break down, knowing it would be a sore subject for quite some time.

“I would think the boys would want to see this with you” you said. He looked as if he was caught, starting to scratch his neck nervously. “I don’t know, I didn’t think this was their thing” he replied stuttering, you knew he was hiding something but decided to brush it off. Remembering your conversation with Minho, you decided to subtly drift into a conversation about the future, you were successful in doing so as he often got lost into a trance of passion when talking about music.

“I love children but I don’t think I could handle many to be honest. I love my parents but with how busy they are and how busy I was trying to make them proud, I never got to spend much time with them, so I’d want a house with a studio so I could still work late without going home late. That way I could spend a lot of time with my family without compromising my work you know, I don’t think I could ever give up music. In terms of my wife, I don’t really care what they work as, as long as they’re happy, but I do have a thing for ambition so I’d say as long as they’re dedicated to whatever path they choose I’d love them all the same, whether it’s working a big corporate job or a loving mother and housewife.” He rambled, going into the same daze you had been just a month before on the field.

You were overwhelmed with fondness at the caring nature of the boy, gazing at him with a feeling you’d never noticed had always wrapped your heart when looking at him until now. You were still oblivious to the feelings (nor the realization of the similarities in your futures, bless your heart), but you had an inkling that the emotions clouding your head and heart for your best friend wouldn’t leave any time soon.

“Aww Channie, who knew you could be such a sweetheart” you teased, hoping to calm the erratic beating in your chest as you pinched his cheek. The conversation flowed comfortably after that as you both fell into the dynamic you both knew and loved, occasionally laughing until your stomach’s hurt, throwing popcorns into each others mouth to try and pass time before the movie starts, oblivious to the knowing looks and smiles from strangers amongst you.

Before the movie had started you felt your phone vibrate, seeing you had received a text from the boy who had left you in that conversation in the first place.

Minho 🐰😈: have you heard from Chan? Is he okay?

You: why don’t you ask him yourself…

Minho 🐰😈: I have a reputation to uphold

You: okay tsundere

You: [insert image of you two in the movie theater]

Minho 🐰😈: are you guys watching the new Deadpool movie together?!?

Minho 🐰😈: He promised to watch that with us. Bros before hoes my ass😒

Minho 🐰😈: And you say he isn’t in love with you, yeah right

Rolling your eyes, you decided to leave the boy on read. Too many thoughts plaguing you mind to answer, even as the movie began to play.

You tried to ignore the erratic beating in your chest that had never resided. Tried to ignore the way his gaze would pierce into your face occasionally throughout the movie when he thought you wouldn’t notice. Tried to ignore the way his hands felt on your face as he jokingly fed you a piece of popcorn. Tried to ignore the similarities in the way you saw your futures. Most importantly, tried to ignore how he had basically gone M.I.A for days but decided to hang out with you first amongst all his friends, even though they had promised to watch the movie together after seeing the first. But you couldn’t.

You didn’t want to seem delusional, as he, again, always had a way of making people feel special. God did you feel special.

4.

You didn’t know why you were crying.

For a couple months, you and Yeonjun had been talking. You liked him, he was funny, smart, handsome, and you two had been friends beforehand so it all never seemed forced. You knew a part of why you had sought out a romantic interest was to distract yourself from an ongoing dilema plaguing your mind for months, but you weren’t ready to confront that. Everything with Yeonjun was nice, fun, casual. So it shouldn’t be surprising when he decided to end your situationship abruptly for a more serious relationship with another girl, shouldn’t be surprised that he so quickly moved on with a lovesick smile to the girl next to him. More shocking than anything was the way you found yourself crying in your best friends arms, infiltrating his home suddenly, jumping on his bed to cuddle him for comfort.

You felt guilty for intruding, especially as you felt a slight drift between you two as of recently (not realizing it had started the minute you had begun to talk to Yeonjun). Though your guilt disappeared as you felt him hold you tighter, running his hands through your hair, and whispering comforting words and shushes to help calm your cries. As he heard hiccups replace your sobs, he slightly pulled away gently, just enough to wipe your tears whilst still keeping you close. Fixing the hair on your face in the process, holding your face as if you’d break, looking at you in concern. “If you’re not ready to tell me what’s making you cry like this, it’s okay, but just know you can trust me yeah” he said, his patient and caring nature pulling at your heart strings, making you pull away from his hold just to tuck your face back into his neck.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying, I didn’t even like him that much” you muttered, more to yourself than him, shifting your body to talk more comfortably but still lying your head on his shoulder as you laid next to him instead of on top of him. He used his arm around you to continue running his hand through your hair, you knew friends shouldn’t be this close but you also weren’t ready to face that. “Yeonjun?” He’d asked, your head still tucked in his neck, you couldn’t see the heavy furrow of his eyebrows.

“Yeah…he uhh he’s with another girl now, they’re serious, even though he told me he never wanted anything serious. To be fair to him, I told him the same, but it hurts cause in a way I was waiting for him you know, I would’ve never said I didn’t want anything serious if he didn’t. Now knowing that he only didn’t want something serious with me…” you drifted off, you now knew your cries weren’t for the boy you simply held an attraction to, but for the insecurity you had felt as he chose someone else. “I just…am I not good enough? I’m always the girl before you know, before you find the one, there’s always that one girl. I’m always saying I’m not ready for a relationship but it’s because no one seeks me for a serious one, it’s always flings, friends, nothing more. I’m never gonna be first choice, always the one people settle for cause they don’t want something permanent or until they find something permanent.”

Feeling tears crawl back into your eyes, you chuckled bitterly. “God I’m pathetic” you said, playing with your fingers to will the tears back in.

“Of course you’re not, you deserve to feel sad about this, deserve to feel these emotions y/n. Look this may not be much coming from me but you’re enough, you’re more than enough, anyone would be lucky to have you” Chan said softly in reply. You shook your head chuckling, “you have to say that, you’re my best friend” you pointed out, arching an eyebrow as you faced him.

You saw his face grow serious at your attempt to brush his compliment off. “I’m serious y/n, remember when you told me I’m the most selfless person you know, I think that’s wrong, cause for me that’s you. You don’t see how amazing you are but I do, the boys do, your friends do, and anyone in their right mind would know how lucky they are to just have the chance to know you. That girl is great, sure, maybe Yeonjun will end up happily with her, but the greatness of a person is not the absence of your own.” he said, not once breaking the stare on your eyes. “And if I’m being honest, I’d choose you over her any day, because after knowing you for 5 years, I know how lucky I am to even have you as a friend” he continued.

His words had rendered you speechless, not knowing the boy in front of you had felt so strongly about your friendship (god you were so far deep indenial). “Thanks Chris” you smiled tearfully at the words, he pulled you impossibly closer, tucking your head back into his shoulder. He spent the day trying to cheer you up, watching movies on his bed, and even showing you some of his tracks he knew you’d been looking forward to hearing.

It’s been a few days since that night, you had made peace with the fact that you were just not the one for Yeonjun, no longer wasting tears on the boy. You saw him approaching you cautiously as you closed your locker, smiling at him in reassurance as you held no grudges, after all you were friends before everything.

“Hey…” he started off, still looking nervous. You replied with a “hi” and a smile of encouragement, trying to emit comfort as you truly held no bad blood against him. “I just…I wanted to say sorry” he continued looking guiltily at the floor, you shook your head in reply earnestly trying to convince him that he had nothing to be sorry for. “No no, I do owe you an apology, I was an ass for leading you on. I know we agreed for nothing serious but I mean I wouldn’t like it if a girl I was talking to suddenly dropped me for another, no matter how casual it was, especially if she were to leave for something serious even after saying she didn’t want it.” He said.

“It’s okay, really.” You chuckled, smiling at him in understanding, “Yeah at first it didn’t feel so good but again nothing serious, you and her seem happy”. He smiled in relief, chuckling at a thought, “can I be honest with you?”. You looked at him quizzically “shoot. We were friends before anything, you can trust me” you said. He took a moment to form his words, taking a deep breath before chuckling again.

“A part of why I never wanted something serious with you wasn’t because you weren’t great, hell your reaction to this whole thing reminded me how amazing you are” he continued to chuckle, shaking his head. “Your understanding, caring, patient, got a heart of gold. Though I knew you were never mine, and never going to be mine.”

Your confusion wasn’t resolved, if anything the furrow on your eyebrows seemed to deepen. “What?” You uttered softly, silently asking for an explanation. “After how many years, you two have still not figured it out huh? Maybe it’s not my place to spell it out for you but if we’re being honest, I’ve always known you were in love with Chan. Even as I started to talk to you, you know romantically, I tried to ignore the fact that I knew, thought maybe over the weeks of getting to know you that maybe I was wrong, maybe everyone was wrong. Hell I really wanted everyone to be wrong at one point” he explained scoffing.

“I was going to tell you that you’d find a guy who makes you feel the way I feel for her but I think deep in your heart, you know you already have. Friends don’t look at each other the way you two do y/n” he ended. You had gone silent, thinking over his words, thinking over the moments you’ve had with Chan, thinking over the feelings you had long buried. He smiled knowingly, silently celebrating the fact that someone’s words have finally gotten to you, and the fact that it was his made him feel victorious. “Think about it, ‘you’ll never know what you have until it’s gone’” he quoted, leaving you to think.

5.

Days of these thoughts turned into weeks, now you lied on Chans bed as he worked on his desk. In his eyes you looked as if you were on your phone scrolling mindlessly, you were on your phone but you weren’t mindless, far from it. The same conversation with Yeonjun were repeating in your head, mixed with conversations with Minho, conversations with Lisa. As the scrolling of your phone was through pictures you had curated over the years of you and Chan, on the several hangouts you’ve had, just the two of you, and you smiled at the endless memories.

You knew you loved him, you knew for weeks now, even knowing your love for him didn’t just span those few weeks but rather a few years.

“Chan…” you called out to him, knowing he heard you as he, as a force of habit, always left one ear open from his headphones. He hummed, quickly pausing his work to turn to you quizzically. You stared at him full of emotions, searched his face as best as you can with the distance between you. He tilted his head as you stayed silent, muttering a nervous “what” accompanied by a giggle which left you looking at him in endearment.

“I love you” you confessed, it wasn’t rare for you to say it, being best friends, but the intention behind your words were now different. You knew he knew it was different. That he knew what you meant. That he knew you finally realized. For a moment he was frozen, all his pent up emotions coming to surface, once it reached, a blinding grin you’ve yet to see until this moment was planted on his face. The dimpled and crescent eyed grin, implanting one of your own on your face. “Finally.” was all he said before making his way quickly to jump on you, collapsing his body on top of you, pulling away to leave kisses all over your face muttering I love you’s after every peck as you giggled at his affection.

“Took you long enough” he teased as he momentarily stopped his eager pecking. You laughed in response, “shut up” you muttered before pulling him into a kiss. You both knew you didn’t need to talk anymore, knew you both were it for each other, knew that starting this moment, there wouldn’t be anyone else. Though it didn’t stop you from uttering one last sentence, “you know this does mean you’re stuck with me right”, wanting a confirmation that this was serious, your past insecurities getting to you. “Please baby, if you weren’t so god damn oblivious you’d have been mine a long time ago. Whether you like it or not, I’ve been stuck with you for a long time” he teased, leaning in to kiss you again.

You no longer felt bad for never being the first choice, because really, for you, every man has always been second to Chris.

Me projecting my failed friends to lovers arc to all of my stories LOL

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

Request: nsfw chishiya x female reader. A story where the reader tells or thinks about her dirtiest fantasys with chishiya how she wants a wild night with him or how he satisfies her (s*x, c*mming*,being h*rny, everything can be included)

♠️ "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to sleep with Chishiya?!" ♠️

A/N: It's really impressive how fast people are when it comes to requests. I mean, no complains, it's just ... wow! 😊

I haven't even posted much and still got contacted by others, giving their wishes, what they would like to read. I actually don't know if it's going to be what you imagined, but I still hope you'll like and enjoy it!

Thanks for your request in that case, my lovely anonymous! That means a lot to me, seriously. 🫶🏻✨

Characters: Chishiya

POV: fem!reader ; Smut!

Warnings: NSFW, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable with sexual content and when you are under 18 years old!

"Okay, I swore I'd never talk to anyone about this, but haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to sleep with Chishiya?"

Kuina and I are calmly walking through the ruined streets of Borderlands after completing a game, while we knock some dust off our respective bodies. I don't know why I'm suddenly blurting this out. It's probably because I've been thinking about it for far too long and I know that Kuina and Chishiya have been hanging out for far longer than I have.

"I mean, come on- as calm and collected as he always is. Sex with him would definitely be extremely … interesting. There's a saying where I think that would suit him pretty well- oh, my elbow is bleeding…" I pause for a moment to consider the wound as best I can. In the end, however, I just shrug my shoulders and remain unimpressed. It doesn't even hurt ... well, so far. "Anyway, there's a saying that I'm sure it describes him very good in bed."

"Are you really talking to me about how you think Chishiya is in bed?!"

"Why don't you hear me out?!" Kuina looks at me, stunned. It's funny how she faces me with those big eyes and that open mouth. I could just laugh, but I pull myself together because there is something I really need to get off my chest:

"Still waters are deep and dirty. Pretty sure sex with him is just like that!"

"What have I actually gotten myself into here …?" My counterpart grasps his forehead in bewilderment.

Believe me, I'd like to stop talking about it myself, but I just can't! And do you know why? Because this man simply drives me crazy. Really, I've wondered what it would be like to sleep with a lot of people at the beach. My thoughts were with Aguni. With Niragi. With some other guys I don't know by name. And no matter what I do, I always end up coming back to Chishiya, who not only creates chaos in my head- but also in my body.

No, not because I have sex with him. That would make things a lot easier, but because I lie in bed at night and start doing it to myself to my thoughts and fantasies with him. I'm lucky that I have a single room and rarely if ever have to share it with anyone else. If that wasn't the case, I would have a huge problem. I wouldn't be able to concentrate on the essentials in games of life and death because I'd be there as a horny, dripping waterfall. Just because I wouldn't be able to put my fingers inside my core, making myself feel good and satisfied. Pah, that's absurd, not gonna lie!

"That guy won't let me sleep peacefully either." Kuina immediately turns back to me before letting out a somewhat annoyed sigh and going on her way. But I don't let her shake me off that easily, which is why I follow her- and eventually just keep talking, whether she wants to hear it or not. I just need to talk about that and then I'll never tell anyone about my thoughts again. "Once I woke up in the middle of the night because I had a fucking orgasm in my sleep …"

"Wonderful." The sarcasm and disinterest of the woman next to me is hard to ignore, but somehow it annoys me a little that she has such a reaction.

A reaction that makes you think that dreaming about hot sex with a man you find attractive is the most normal thing in the world.

"In my sleep, Kuina!"

"All right, I got it, Y/N!" Suddenly she stops and just looks at me.

It's hard to tell what's going on inside her right now. The look on her face is somehow telling. Literally. Not just her face. It's also her posture and her tone of voice. On the one hand, she seems tense, but her verbal communication also gives me the feeling of passivity and inattention. In addition to such patterns, she also grins to herself and seems a little amused by my statements.

"Do you want to tell me what exactly you have in mind for him?" Have I piqued her interest after all? "Maybe … that you'll have sex in the pool while you're surrounded by other people who could catch you at any time? Or … are you perhaps more attracted to the idea of him fucking you in front of a mirror, where he makes sure you get a good view of him penetrating you again and again and again, sometime slower, sometime faster, sometime deeper and sometime softer or harder?"

"I wasn't prepared for that …" Honestly, the way she responds to your words leaves you speechless. "

"But if you ask like that-"

"Please tell me you don't-"

"The last time I masturbated myself to sleep, I thought about what it would be like if he fucked me that night in the hotel lobby." Silence. "I mean, everyone's lying in bed doing their own thing. The couch in the lobby is free, the lights are off, and we're having sex with each other…on the soft fabric of the couch." The silence gets louder. "We're standing in front of it. Making out with each other a little bit. Sticking our tongues down each other's throats, our hands roaming… over every part of the body you can reach." Shit, just the thought of it makes me horny again. "Then he kisses down my neck, I sigh and moan pleasurably to myself as he runs over my curves and tries to drive me crazy by biting my sensitive skin here and there and giving me a few lovely hickeys, to show everyone that I correspond solely to HIS territory…" Now the silence during the breaks is just embarrassing, but I still can't help but grin broadly and enthusiastically, already knowing how the story will continue. "And then we'll have a really good time on the sofa, with the risk of getting caught by someone because I can't control my moans while he plays with my clitoris… slides his fingers into me… licking my pussy with his tongue or penetrating me with the tip of his tongue to drive me completely crazy before driving his cock into my pussy and stimulating my most sensitive spot over and over again~." By now Kuina is making a pretty disgusted face, but if she doesn't interrupt me or even run away, my story can't be that bad, can it? "And if no one looks where the moans are coming from, then the next morning everyone will still know who did it so well for me because I will scream his name through the whole hotel. He fills me with his entire length and with his As he climaxes, his thrusts become more and more irregular and deeper because he wants to inject his sperm into me as deeply as possible…" I'm wet.

I notice how my panties are getting wetter and wetter. How I literally start to drip. It's extremely difficult for me to keep my eyes open because I'm just feeling so much sexual desire again. Again just because I'm thinking about Chishiya and what it would be like to feel him inside me. To be filled by him.

"Are you done now ... ?" Kuina asks after we've been silent for a little more than a minute after my last sentence. "Please, be done now!"

A simple "Yup" is the answer to everything before I bring up another "And now I have to find a toilet real quick". Just walking past my companion, who gave me an unexpected "Are ... you going to masturbate?" which I only responded with an approving “Coooorrect!” before she finally freed from me.

A/N: God, sometimes I was laughing so hard while writing this, I'm so sorry. 😂

[chaxiu]

growing sideways

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader

summary: kuroo tetsurou is all grown up. you think you might have to learn to let him go. or: an exploration of love, and loving things.

note: sorry that it's been so long!! college has been so silly funny goofy (derogatory) but i'm on break now and pretending that i dno't have to go back in a week.

sort of spoilers for occupations (kuroo, kenma, yaku) post-timeskip! (but also doesn’t really follow canonical futures… sort of a mess, to be honest.) my attempt at reconciling what i’d hoped for him and what he becomes.  title taken from a noah kahan song of the same name that has next to nothing to do with the actual fic.

cw: mention of throwing up (doesn’t actually happen, though)

___

When Kuroo Tetsurou gets scouted to a professional team in Russia, you’re the last person he tells. Technically, he doesn’t tell you at all – it’s Kenma who does, blinking up at you from behind a curtain of his hair.

“I thought he’d told you already,” he says, voice as apologetic as you’ve ever heard it, which is to say apathetic, as always, but with a dash of sympathy mixed in.

“No,” you say, because there’s nothing else left you can say. “He didn’t.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, shifting his focus back to his game. You take the moment he offers you to exhale, quietly. To resituate yourself around this new hurt in your chest.

“Does everyone else know?” you ask. Kenma lifts one of his shoulders up, a half-shrug.

“Maybe not his mom,” he offers. This is poor consolation, and both of you know it – Kuroo hasn’t talked to his mother beyond stilted platitudes in years, not since she uprooted her life and his sister and half his chest and taken it with her, leaving a husband, a son, and a house with too many rooms.

“So he’s gonna take it, then,” you say. Kuroo is a lot of things – mercurial, bright, a pain in the ass when he puts his mind to it – but everyone knows that first and foremost, he’s a volleyball player. You’d realized it for yourself, back in your first year of university, when one of your friends had dragged you to a match and you’d spotted him, arms outstretched, fingers splayed and braced as if he thought he could hold a sun in his hands. When he’d landed, you’d caught sight of his grin, almost too large for his face.

Ah, you’d thought. So this is what it means to love something.

The next morning, at your eight-thirty introductory economics lecture, you’d shuffled in and put your head down on the desk, drifting closer and closer to sleep every second. 

Then the person behind you had poked you, hard, and you’d let out a half-scream, jolting up in your seat in a way that made every single person in your lecture hall, including your professor, look at you.

The person behind you had started laughing – an ugly laugh, cackling like a hyena, the kind of laugh that made you want to join in, despite your burning embarrassment. You’d swiveled around to face him as the professor resumed his lecturing.

“What is wrong with you,” you’d hissed. It was the boy from yesterday– the middle blocker with the awful hair.

He’d raised his hands up in surrender, although there was still a crooked grin on his face. “Sorry, sorry,” he’d said. “Just was wondering if you had a pencil.”

“You know,” you’d said, fishing one from your bag. “There are easier ways to ask people for a pencil than giving them heart attacks.”

You’d passed the pencil to him, and he’d given you a jaunty little salute with it, one that made your lips curl up despite yourself. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he’d said, and you’d turned back around again, and that was that.

Except the next lecture, you’d arrived at your usual seat to find a disposable cup of coffee there, likely from the little cafe downstairs. You’d turned to the boy behind you, raising your eyebrows.

“As a thank you,” he’d shrugged, leaning back in his chair in a way you’d suspected was meant to be cool and casual. “And also so that you don’t keep falling asleep in lecture.”

“How do you know I’ve been falling asleep in lecture,” you’d said, a little grumpily, pulling the cup towards you and taking a sip nonetheless. It wasn’t your usual order, but it was drinkable, and if you were being honest, you’d need all the caffeine you could get.

He’d watched you take a sip of the drink, a pleased smile playing on his face. “I sit right behind you. I’ve seen you take a nap at your desk every single week.” 

“I’ll have you know that that’s just the posture I learn best in,” you’d sniffed.

“What, drooling?”

“I do not drool,” you’d said, haughty. “And even if I did, how would you even know? You’re such a stalker.”

“Harsh,” he’d whistled, although the smile didn’t leave his face. “I’m just observant.”

You’d rolled your eyes at him, swiveling around to face the front of the room as the professor began his lecture. And if you’d managed – for the first time this entire semester – to make it all the way through without falling asleep, well, that was nobody’s business but your own.

The next week, another cup was waiting for you. 

“You know,” you’d said, “I think you’ve repaid your debt from the pencil in full.”

“Oh, this isn’t about the pencil,” he’d replied. “I didn’t get the right order for you last week, did I? I wanted to try again this time.”

You’d blinked at him. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Kuroo,” he’d said. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Well, Kuroo Tetsurou,” you’d said, “did you ever think about just asking me for my order?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he’d asked.

The drinks kept coming, every week, without fail, ranging from plain to ridiculously extravagant. He still hadn’t gotten your order, although at some point during the semester, he’d migrated from sitting behind you to sitting right next to you, passing you stupid notes and doodling all over your notebooks.

The last lecture’s drink was wrong, again, although you kept drinking it anyways. “You should come hang out with me and my friends sometime,” he’d said, sudden, and you’d nearly choked.

“What brought this on?”

“I dunno,” he’d said, uncharacteristically shy, looking away from you. “You know when you meet some people and it’s just like, they’re meant to be in my life, so you have to try really hard to not let them go?”

“So making a girl scream during lecture is your idea of an ideal introduction,” you’d said, and he’d rolled his eyes, leaning over to lightly push at your shoulder.

“You know what I mean.”

“I saw one of your volleyball matches,” you’d told him. Suddenly you’d wanted him to know. “At the beginning of the semester. Before we’d met.”

He seemed to understand what you were trying to say.  “What’d you think?” 

“You must really love it,” you’d said. “Playing volleyball.”

“I do.”

“Well, then, Kuroo-kun. I’ll come meet your friends, under one condition.” He’d raised his eyebrows at you, expectantly.

“I get to tell you my coffee order,” you’d said. “Some of these drinks are becoming downright disgusting.”

“You drink them anyway,” he’d replied. “But I suppose that’s a fair trade.”

You’d grinned at him, and he’d grinned back, and it’d all gone from there. 

You’ve known since you started talking to him that Kuroo is a natural at getting people to orbit around him. He draws people near – crooked grin, warm eyes, quick wit – and then holds them there, at arm’s length, never quite letting them get any closer. You’d thought, perhaps, that you could be an exception to this. That he’d seen something in you that was enough for him to want to let you in. To pull you close. The thing is this: in your heart of hearts you are a romantic, and to you Kuroo has always been a little like the sun, like tilting your face towards the golden wash of afternoon and remembering, soft and gentle like falling into something, So this is what it is to love.

“I don’t know,” Kenma says, and you look at him looking at his game. He is, out of anyone, the most likely to understand how you feel: the air knocked out of you, leaving you gasping and breathless . But he has the reassurance of more than a decade of friendship behind him, built on neighboring houses and the squeak of shoes on a gymnasium floor. Some days you feel like what you have with Kuroo is fragile and insubstantial, playing-card houses on a precarious surface. Like if he left he’d take it all with him.

“Of course he’s going to take it,” you say past the lump in your throat. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, but the little sound effects from his game pause. He blinks up at you through his bangs.

“We should throw him a party,” you say. “Or something. To celebrate.”

“If you think that’s a good idea,” he says, noncommittal. 

There is an ache in your chest and you think that once you leave Kenma’s apartment you won’t be able to stop yourself from crying. “Of course it’s a good idea. You know how much Kuroo loves having everyone he loves in one place.”

“That’s exactly the thing,” Kenma murmurs, but you don’t hear him, already pulling out your phone to make a list.

“Invites, decorations, food… Oh! Kenma, do you think Kuroo would like it if we made him saba? Or went out to a restaurant that specializes?”

“Probably,” he says. The game resumes. “He’s always going on about doca-something acid.”

“Docosahexaenoic acid,” you correct absently, scrolling through a list of nearby restaurants. Kuroo’s talked about it enough – and despite your better judgment, you’ve listened to his rants enough times – for you to remember the name in full. 

You miss the look that Kenma gives you, exasperatedly fond.

It turns out that Kuroo knows a lot of people. Even more than you’d thought. There are the guys that he plays with on the volleyball team, of course, but then there’s also his other business major friends and the other undergraduates who work in the same lab that he does in his free time (because of course he’d be the type of person to do that.) Then there’s the neighbors he’d had freshman year and still miraculously keeps in touch with, and the ones from sophomore year. Then Kenma casually mentions that Kuroo still frequently talks to everyone from his volleyball team his third year of high school, and you have to beg him to let you use his phone and ensure that everyone from there will be able to attend.

Then there’s the issue of getting enough food: you know from prior experience that volleyball players can eat, and there’s a part of you that worries that the budget you’ve scraped together from whatever your friends managed to donate won’t be enough for one of them, let alone the stampede you’re about to invite into your apartment. And besides, there’s decorations to think about, and maybe a present for Kuroo, and maybe it would be cute if you could get one of those places that rents out cats to send over a couple – do those places actually exist or was the whole thing just a stress-induced hallucination? Either way, the stress of budgeting is enough to make you understand why Kuroo had succumbed to his base capitalistic tendencies and become a business major. You’ll never be able to make fun of him for it again.

Kenma solves this problem readily enough, extending a credit card towards you with barely any hesitation when you mention it in passing.

“Stop stressing out,” he mutters. “It’ll be okay. Kuro’s not the kind who’d care about things like that.”

You blink at him. He determinedly avoids your eyes. “Kenma,” you say. “You know what I have to do, don’t you.”

He sighs, setting down his game. “If you must.”

You launch yourself at him in a bone-crushing hug, and although you hear him click his tongue at you, you can also feel the way his hands come up to rest on your back, soft and steady. 

“He asked me if I’d seen you around recently,” Kenma mentions when you separate.

“What did you say?”

“Said you seemed busy. He said he hadn’t seen you and was worried he’d done something.”

There isn’t much to say back to that. You busy yourself by picking at one of the threads in your shirtsleeves.

Kenma says your name. 

“I know,” you say. “I know. I just – I don’t know.”

Kuroo has many smiles, you know. There’s the one when he’s trying to get a rise out of someone, lazy and lean. There’s the one when he sees a cute animal or a small child or the old lady you always run into the market, the one that reminds him of his obaa-chan. There’s the one he gets when he sees you, sometimes, and doesn’t realize that you’re seeing him back, small and fond in a way that makes you a little afraid, sometimes. At the enormity of it. At how fragile it seems, some days. At what it could become, if given the chance.

And there’s the one he has when he’s playing volleyball, the one that makes his eyes go all squinty; the one that’s a little too large, just on this side of feral, because he’s so happy that he doesn’t remember to think about things like presentability and not scaring the people around him, both on his side and the other side of the net. The one he has when he hits a kill block, or a no-touch ace. 

You don’t think you could stand to take that from him.

“I’ve just been busy. With the party planning, and all,” you finish, meekly. You know he knows you’re lying. Still, Kenma doesn’t push.

“If you say so,” he hums, turning back to his computer. “It seemed like he missed you, though.”

You hate yourself for the small spark of want that blooms in your chest. 

Kuroo Tetsurou, in another life, could probably be yours. You’ve seen the way his ears turn red sometimes when you press a little too close, thighs close enough to be touching at one of the tables of your favorite izakaya. You know he knows your favorites the same way that he knows his own, know that in his head there’s a file of nothing but his knowledge about you, filled to bursting. You know that there are days, hours, moments where his touch lingers on your wrist, your cheek, the back of your arm – never long enough to presume, just long enough for you to notice.

In this life, you’ve seen the way he plays volleyball clearly enough to know that he loves it. That in terms of paths, this is probably the most natural one for him, as easy as breathing. That the world is so big and he deserves to go out and see it, that he’s growing up and some days you feel in your bones that he’s leaving you behind, in the same way that you’d left behind the yellow rubber rainboots you’d adored as a child, outgrown and overworn.

You busy yourself with party planning, so that at least everyone except Kuroo knows that you have a valid reason for ignoring him. Once the budgeting crisis is averted, things go surprisingly smoothly: money really does make the world go round, you think, in a rare moment of reflection between arguing with the caterer and double-checking that you have enough chairs in your apartment.

It’s good, to keep busy. Drowns out your heartbeat in your ears. He’s leaving, he’s leaving, he’s leaving. He’s leaving and you’re not gonna even ask him to stay.

The day of the party is bright and clear, because the universe loves Kuroo in the same way that you do. Bokuto – one of Kuroo’s teammates, and one of your favorites out of all of Kuroo’s teammates (although you’ve long maintained that it would be difficult for Bokuto not to be anyone’s favorite) – is tasked with distracting Kuroo for the day, then leading him to your apartment. This is a good plan because Bokuto is, himself, easily distractible, and Kuroo is, more often than not, perfectly willing to go along with Bokuto’s distractions. However, this is also a bad plan because Bokuto is, out of everyone you’ve invited, perhaps the second-most likely person to spoil the plans for the party. (The first being Lev Haiba, naturally.) To counterbalance that, you’ve asked Akaashi Keiji, one of your juniors, to go along – he has a natural talent for keeping Bokuto in check, more so than anyone you’ve ever met. But you’d feel bad, leaving Akaashi alone to deal with the two of them like that, so to ensure your plan had the greatest chance of success possible, you convince (read: bribed) Kenma to go along with the three of them. Odds are good that he won’t do much to curb Kuroo and Bokuto, but you’re willing to hope that his presence will keep Kuroo from doing something completely insane.

Back in your apartment, you’re adding the last finishing touches to the streamers hanging in the doorway. Yaku, next to you, squints at the streamers. “They’re a little crooked,” he says.

You bite back your immediate response, which is to tell him that if you had a stepladder tall enough that he could reach you’d gladly go get it for him so he could fix them himself. Instead, you ask, “How is it, over there, Yakkun?”

“In Russia?” he asks, and you nod. He pauses, considering. “It was rough, at first.”

“But you got through it,” you say, voice coming out a little more desperately than you’d like. “You like it there now.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It won’t ever be Japan, but I think I can make it home. And Kuroo’s always been able to land on his feet, wherever it goes. I don’t think you need to worry about him, even if he does decide to take the offer.”

“Of course he’s going to take the offer,” you say. “Why wouldn’t he –”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You take it out to read a text from Akaashi. Heading back, it says. Be there in three.

Hurriedly, you jam your phone back into your pocket. “Okay, everyone, places!” you call, watching with a critical eye as everyone tucks themselves away.

“Lev, that’s not gonna work. Hiding behind the lamp’s not gonna do much.”

“Idiot,” you hear someone – Yaku? – mutter, and you laugh a little despite yourself. Your phone buzzes again. In the elevator, you read, and hastily you dive underneath a table with one of Kuroo’s kouhai from high school – Fukunaga, you think – to hide yourself, just as you hear the sound of a key in a lock. 

“I just don’t understand why she’d ask you to take care of her plants,” Kuroo says as he steps through the door, sounding a little bemused. “I mean, I love you, bro, but I still haven’t forgotten what happened that one time –”

Three, two, one, you mouth silently, holding your fingers out where everyone can see them, then –

“Surprise!” you call out, stepping out of your hiding place. The others all scramble to follow, adding their own voices to the chorus.

It is, to your delight, one of the few times you’ve seen Kuroo properly surprised, enough that he actually staggers back a step, eyes wide. 

“What – how – when – what is this for?” he asks, directing his question to you, standing right in front of him.

“To say congratulations, Kuroo,” you reply. Suddenly your throat is a little dry. “On getting the offer.”

This time his eyes widen with realization – and maybe a little flash of guilt. He covers it quickly, though, and you’re left a little uncertain, like stepping on uneven ground. 

“So you didn’t actually ask Bokuto to take care of your plants,” he says instead, and you laugh. The sound is a little brittle in your ears.

“Of course not,” you say. “I haven’t forgotten that one time when he –”

“Did I mention we have cake?” Bokuto swoops in. “I picked out the flavor myself and everything. You gotta come see it. The lady at the store was so nice, though I don’t think she understand exactly what I was asking her to put on it at first –”

With a wry eye roll to you, Kuroo lets himself be dragged away. The rest of the partygoers take it as their sign to start mingling, and you let yourself fade into the chatter, becoming nothing more than background noise. It fits uncomfortably, now, where before it might have been a little more natural. Kuroo has always been good at creating space intentionally, whether it be for you or anyone else: a sly smirk for your eyes only, a joke directed towards you and you alone. It’s one of the reasons why you think everyone feels like they can fall into his orbit more effortlessly. 

Kenma appears by your side, unobtrusive as usual. “You should talk to him.”

“And say what?”

“Whatever you want.”

There is a want in your throat and it chokes you. I want you to stay. I know you should go. I’m terrified that I’ll never see you again, either way – if I made you stay and you resented it, if I let you leave and you loved it. 

“I’m worried that he’s getting bored here,” you say instead. “Like it’s not challenging him enough. Like he wants more.”

There are things that you’re willing to admit you can be slightly paranoid about: like putting too much of your heart on the table, like finding someone who loves all of you but the worst parts. Like loving someone and watching them start to resent you, like wanting to learn how to love in the right way but really only learning how to suffocate. And you know it’s possible that in this could be a combination of all those things, that rationally Kuroo knows better than anyone what’s his to keep and what’s his to give away. But you’ve known him for so long now, and there’s a part of you that likes to think you know him better than almost anyone in the world. It’s that part of you that insists you can see Kuroo Tetsurou getting tired, a little bit. He walks off the court with his head tilted back, eyes closed against the glaring lights on the gymnasium, far above. When he looms over the net, you think of it as less a state of being and more of a conscious action: a weary sigh. Another day at work. 

Kuroo Tetsurou, you think, is learning to want new things. To love new things. And that’s okay – that’s more than okay. There’s just a selfish part of you that wishes you could be there to see him through it. 

Kenma hasn’t said anything, staring at you patiently. You think you might throw up.

“I have to go,” you say, limp, and spin on your heel to slip out the back door. Somewhere behind you, Bokuto’s cheers rise above the din, followed by Kuroo’s cackling laugh. It makes your chest ache a little, but at the very least it provides you with some cover.

Your little apartment building stands at an intersection between two streets. Turn right and you’ll get to the park with the stray cats, the ones who’ve started coming around more frequently now that Kuroo has started showing up (now that Kuroo has started bringing them treats, although he denies it every time you bring it up.) Turn left and walk far enough and there’s a little embankment that slopes down to a river. Sometimes in the mornings joggers will pass through the area, but in the dead of the night like it is now the grassy slope is deserted. You sink down onto it, ignoring the way the cold sinks into your skin.

Part of you wants to cry. Most of you is glad you aren’t: can’t, maybe, or won’t. 

You tell yourself the grand lesson in this is that you have to be better at letting go. That there is a lot that your hands could hold – a lot that your hands could want to hold, given the time. Given the opportunity – but not all of it is meant to be held by you. That there is a whole world out there and tonight it feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.

Perhaps the grand lesson is just this: that loss exists. That wanting perseveres.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind you. You know without turning who it is, fingers tightening in the grass.

“Hey,” you say back.

“Can I sit?”

You wave a hand listlessly at the space beside you. “There’s space available.”

He settles in next to you, close enough that your thighs could brush if you were a little more careless, if you hadn’t been holding yourself strung tight and stiff.

“Why aren’t you in there?” you ask finally, when it becomes clear that he has no intention of saying anything, that he’s planning on waiting until you start first. “It’s your party.”

“Why aren’t you in there?” he counters. “You planned it.”

“It was a little loud,” you offer. “Was getting a little sleepy.”

“You weren’t there anymore,” he says. “Kenma said he saw you heading out.”

The words stick in the hollow of your throat, between your collarbones. You can feel them lodged there. “Kuroo,” you say, careful to not let your voice shake, “you can’t say things like that.”

There’s a hand on your knee, long fingers and broad palms spreading over your skin easily. His hand is warm. You direct your gaze down to it. His hand is big enough that it nearly covers your knee.

“Why not?”

“It’s not fair,” you say. “I know you’re not that stupid, Kuroo. You can’t go saying things like that when you’re about to leave.”

He says your name, sharp and soft.

“And of course I’m happy you’re going. I know you’re not happy – not as happy here as you could be. I know it’s an incredible opportunity. I know you deserve it, and you deserve every incredible thing that comes your way. Or at least – I want to be happy for you, Kuroo. I want to be able to give you that much, at least.”

He says your name again. It sounds fond enough that you gain the courage to look up at him. He’s looking right at you. The hand on your knee reaches for your jaw, instead, cradling it tenderly.

“I think I’m gonna stay,” he says. “And I’m sorry for not telling you about the offer earlier. I just – I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. I wasn’t even sure if I was, at first. But then I kept coming back to it – the fact that I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. Not at all, not even a possibility. It made me realize that – well. Russia would be incredible. But I think – I know – I would rather stay.”

The words take a moment to sort themselves out in your brain. Then:

“Kuroo, you can’t,” you choke out. “This is your dream.”

“It was,” he says. “For the longest time, it was. And I thought it was something I had to keep loving. Something that I had to pursue. Like I would be doing a disservice to the me I was when I was little, if I decided I didn’t want to follow the path I’ve wanted since I first started playing volleyball.”

You say nothing. There is a sun rising in your throat. You are afraid to let it go.

“But you know,” he says, thoughtful, “I think there is a difference between loving something and being in love with something.”

“Yeah?” you say. He reaches for your hand, flipping it over from where it rests in the grass so that your palm is facing upward. Slots his fingers through the gaps between your own.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing once, twice, three times. “Like – I love volleyball, you know.”

“I know,” you say, because you do.

“But I’m in love with it here. With Japan. With the connections I’ve made, with the people who keep me here.”

“I’m glad,” you say, because you are, selfishly so.

“And,” he says, hesitant in a way that you’ve only ever seen once before, back when he was just the boy with the awful laugh and the ugly hair and who kept getting you coffee and getting it wrong, “I’m in love with you.”

And the sun, blooming over the horizon.

[bots-and-cons]

Hello! How have you been? Hope you have been doing okay lately your writing is really good love everything you make

Reader with nyctophobia (extreme fear of dark) getting terrified after all the lights on base turn off during a strong storm outside

And the Autobots (you're free to choose 3 <3) who didn't know about reader's phobia and tries their best to comfort and reassure them

A bit short sorry!

A/N: I decided to do this as a group thing, rather than separate, since it seemed like the easier option. Just Optimus and Bee this time around, I didn’t really feel like writing about anyone else. I kinda feel bad that I haven’t posted in weeks, but I’ve been really busy with IRL stuff.  I’m doing good though, and I’m glad you like my stuff. Good request, enough information, not too much either, so no worries if it’s short

•None of the autobots had ever even heard of such a phobia

•It was very rare for the base to go totally dark, at least for a longer time, since they had backup generators and all that jazz, but for some reason they took their sweet time turning on this time

•You’re trying to assure yourself it’s going to be fine and that the lights are going to turn on any second now

•They don’t though, and Optimus is starting to notice your panic, since he has only very little trouble seeing in the dark

(•I’ve now decided cybertronians have night vision, Idk if that’s canon, but I don’t care)

•You’re starting to panic, and you can feel your breathing getting more and more shallow

•Optimus asks if you’re not feeling well?

•You just straight up tell him you’re terrified of the dark and you’re starting to feel like you’re going to have a panic attack

•Optimus thinks about it for just a moment, and turns on his headlights

•He asks if that’s better, and you just nod, feeling yourself calming down just a little bit

•Optimus tells you it’s okay to be afraid, and he appreciates that you told him, so he knows what to do if this happens again

•Bee also comes into the room, buzzing at Optimus and asking why he’s got his lights on?

•You tell Bee it’s because you don’t like the dark and Optimus just wanted to make you feel more comfortable

•Bee of course then turns on his lights too, wanting to help you as well

•You find it kind of funny that they basically have these lights on their chest that they can turn on whenever they want to, mostly it just looks funny though

•Bee and Optimus are wondering what you’re laughing about, but they’re just glad you’re not feeling as panicked anymore

•The lights eventually come back on after a while, but until that happens, Optimus and Bee stay with you to make sure you’re feeling at least a bit better

•You just talk, and it makes you feel a bit more at ease, since it takes your mind off your fear and gives you something else to think about

[inquisimer]

dragon age oneshot fic recs

@dreadfutures said that we should do more fic recs and she's absolutely right, so I'm starting what will hopefully be a series of fic rec lists, leading off with some oneshot recs! These are just standalone stories that don't require a big time commitment and definitely stuck with me after I read them.

Check them out! and leave a comment or kudos to let the author know you did 💜

Feel free to reblog this post and add your own oneshot fic recs! Or make your own fic rec post and tag me in it so I can read and promote your awesome recs :3

-

My Lover's Phylactery by FrodaB

Cullen Rutherford/Female Inquisitor | G | 1472 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: She doesn't destory it Mer's Rec: this is an excellent piece that fills the gap DAI left (imho) about Trevelyan's phylactery! There's some excellent introspection from the Inquisitor and a bittersweet but somft and heartfelt ending between Cullen and his love.

Bent, Not Broken by spirrum (@spirrum)

Fenris/Female Hawke | G | 1595 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: In which Hawke doesn't run off to Weisshaupt, and an angry elf turns up at the Inquisition's door. Mer's Rec: this is a little slice of interpersonal relationships that beautifully captures Hawke's spirit! It starts with some platonic Hawke & Varric, perfectly encapsulating the exhaustion both of them feel after HLTA, and transitions smoothly into the heart-tugging reunion between Hawke and a frustrated Fenris who's very much in love.

last man standing (perhaps) by havvke (Wintertree)

Charade Amell & Carver Hawke & Female Hawke | T | 6749 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Hawke’s teeth glinted when she grinned, except for the gap of her missing left dogtooth. Funny how they did that, even in such poor lighting. Glinting. Hawke barely seemed real. They’ve gone on a mission or two together since that initial, embarrassingly disastrous meeting, and it was still shocking that the woman lived up—if not surpassed—her nearly legendary status. Compared to the other missions Charade led with the Jennies, this was somewhat easier than her normal fare. But while Hawke was a known figure, and by technicality kin, Charade still didn’t know her. Mer's Rec: Okay, I'm admittedly biased toward this piece, because it was a gift for me as part of the 2023 Platonic Ideal Exchange. That being said, it is an INCREDIBLE work of sibling dynamics and I think of it whenever I think about Charade Amell. Havvke explores the relationship between Charade as a Red Jenny, Carver as a Grey Warden, and Hawke as...Hawke, in a beautiful web of complicated choices and found family. Over a year later, it still holds up as one of the best exchange gifts I've ever received.

Doggone by leggywillow (@leggywillow)

Alistair/Female Warden, Alistair & Anora Mac Tir, Alistair & Warden's Mabari | T | 3042 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Alistair and the Warden are no longer together, but they still exchange letters - through Dog. Alistair struggles to find happiness in his life as king, but he isn't entirely alone. Mer's Rec: I read this one just recently and oh my GOODNESS it both made me laugh and also pulled at my heartstrings. Leggy alters the canon breakup between a King Alistair & the Warden to be somehow even more heartbreaking and the way that he talks to Dog is just so essentially Alistair, I could hear every line in his voice. Add to that several well done bits between Alistair & Anora and this piece absolutely delivers on the "sad" and "heartache" in the additional tags.

That Word You Call Me by thewitchofthewilds (gossamerstarsxx) (@saiyanshewolf)

Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford | T | 1768 words | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Author's Summary: The first time she tells him she loves him is the time he needs to hear it the most Mer's Rec: I love this piece for the intermingling of angst and fluff between Lavellan and Cullen. It leads in with one of the better descriptions of nightmare panic that I've seen and the way that Lavellan grounds Cullen from it is smooth and heartfelt, as is his reaction to her comfort. It caps off with some sweet fluff and a taste of human/elf relationships dynamics, for which I am a sucker, and which end the fic on soft, heartfelt note.

[approximateknowledge]

the magus situation, or, "ak remembers log horizon exists and it exacerbates the brainrot"

(gonna be a long one)

so to the surprise of absolutely nobody i did in fact watch log horizon at one point in the past, and also tried reading the light novel but never ended up finishing it. my opinion on it is mostly "solid and had good potential, with some unfortunate quirks to how it's written". the anime is better than sao's, but the novel is worse

this isn't what this post is about

it's instead about a certain *spinoff manga*

the fuckign west wind brigade manga in all its janky beauty. it's a story that takes place in parallel with (and overlaps with) the main story while focusing on different parts of the world and a completely different cast of main characters. it tends to be somewhat more light-hearted than the main story (but not by a lot)

it's also technically a harem story, but in the same way UQ holder is, which is to say that soujirou seta has that touta konoe charm that makes me go "yeah i fully get it this guy is impossible to hate"; he's more the guild dog than the guild leader half the time (affectionate)

*anyway*

spoilers for the west wind brigade manga incoming

so the afformentioned soujirou seta (middle character on the manga cover) is in fact the very first person to die after the catastrophe, and in the process he proved that even after the world became real, *respawning was still a thing*

which suddenly made the prospect of pk'ing much less ethically daunting, leading to a massive explosion in guilds of bored disillusioned trapped people with nothing better to do starting to kill and loot en masse, as was already a massive plotpoint in log horizon proper. some are big guilds, some are smaller

and some are technically solo

which brings us, finally, to magus

*fucking magus* (affectionate?)

edgelord in a longcoat with the cringy speeches

but it's not exactly sincere is it? it's all forced, constantly like he's talking as much to himself as to his "audience"

like he really *wants* to believe what he's saying

"it's all a game anyway, i can do whatever i want! definitely! right? RIGHT?"

it is, in fact, a coping mechanism

because to admit it's real would mean it matters. would mean you're not actually hidden away anymore. no walls to hide behind. no mask

because it's all mask

it was the whole time

because it's easier that way

the persona and the longcoat an the fancy explanations for why it's totally correct and real, trust me! definitely not fucking desperate over here, no sirree!

it's the beater again. there's a beater in log horizon but you never meet them in the main story. because for this beater, the game doesn't end because it's over. but because they finally admit to themself it was never a game to begin with. which was of course the only way out, because log horizon doesn't have a win condition

if you can't "win", you need to stop playing

but that's not quite the whole story, is it?

because you know how it is with beaters

there's always a little footnote at the end

this funny little common thread that all examples ive found so far seem to share

yeah there's a massive very explicit gender angle to all of this because it's just part of the package at this point

and that is how magus' redemption arc also has her turning into a girl

it's frankly amazing, the thematic parallels write themselves, it's so delightfully on the nose!

this whole thing is in fact one giant transgender allegory that's barely an allegory at all

the "edgy longcoat-wearer with terrible coping mechanisms" to "cute akward goth girl" pipeline is real

[harrygoeswest]

Love Aged Like Fine Wine

Harry is drunk and lost not too far from home, and there's only one person he wants to call to rescue him.

A/N: Hello everyone 👋🏼 it has been a loooong time since I posted anything on Tumblr, and I was admittedly reluctant to do so. However, I reblogged the lovely Sarah's (@harry-on-broadway) fic challenge the other day and it inspired me, and I would be doing a disservice to write the whole thing and never look at it again, especially since I quite like it. SO, I give you my first one shot in over a year. Bear with me, I'm a bit rusty... Special mention as always to Miss Liz (@all-things-fic) for reading and validating me.

I'm using prompts 14 & 19.

Trigger Warnings: Absolutely nothing (apart from the odd f word)

Word Count: 6533

~~~

“What do you want, Harry?”

An offended scoff was his initial response. “Not a very nice way t’greet y’best friend.”

He was right, it wasn’t. “You’re not my best friend.”

“Ouch. Though’ we were besties ‘n now y’makin’ me feel sad.”

Harry was slurring more than he usually did. I feared if he tried to say obviously, ‘overshly’ would turn into a soft, deep single syllable alike to the word ‘shush’. It wasn’t particularly late to warrant his level of drunkenness. Especially on a Tuesday evening. Chewsday, if you will.

“Harsh truths are easier to take when you’re drunk.” I said, shrugging as if he could see the action.

“Why’re y’bein’ so ‘orrible?” He whined.

“Why are you calling me pissed as a fart at 8:45 on a Tuesday night and ruining my bath time?”

“‘S there some space lef’ in the bathtub?”

“Don’t make it weird.” I grimaced. “What’s going on?”

He produced an incoherent mumble. I heard the rain get heavier, both on the phone call and outside my house.

“What was that?”

“M’st…”

“Aye?” I asked, my face surely a bewildered picture.

“I’m lost.” He huffed, agitated.

I sat up in the bath, water and suds sloshing around me. “Lost?”

“Yes.”

“W-,” words failed me, and I barked out a sharp laugh. “How are you lost?”

“How does anyone else get lost?” He said, stroppy.

“Wow, you really are drunk.”

He hummed, but it was a defeated noise. “C’ya come ‘n get me?”

“How am I supposed to come and get you if you don’t know where you are?”

“Well I was only at The Holly Bush.”

I laughed twice as hard that time. Put in perspective, The Holly Bush is no more than a ten minute walk from Harry’s house. “How long have you been walking?”

“‘Bout ‘alf an hour.” He muttered.

Now I was really howling, like a hyena on laughing gas. “Jesus Christ, Harry!”

“‘S not funny!”

“On the contrary, years of comedy begs to differ.”

He practically cried my name down the phone. “‘M really tired ‘n cold ‘n… weh,” I think he meant wet, “please come get me.”

I took a deep breath and mourned my premature bath. “Fine. But do not move from wherever you are.”

“Won’t.”

I stood up and watched water and soap suds cascade down my body with a pout. “What can you see?”

“Er…” a pause followed, I assumed for his vacant thoughts. “‘S like a lot of trees.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could literally be any part of the Heath, mate. Say more words.”

“I can’t see shit! It’s dark and it’s pissing it down!”

“Don’t get arsey or you can stay there and drown in rain water.” I warned him. “Find a road sign. Or a street name.”

He grunted. After no more than fifteen seconds he produced, “Platt’s Lane.”

“Alright, I know where that is. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” He said. At least I think that’s what he said.

I murmured a little, “Sure,” and then hung up. 

I dressed quickly in the easiest clothes I could find - a pair of tie-dye jogging bottoms, an old t-shirt and a crewneck over the top. I pulled on the first pair of trainers I could find and ran out to my car whilst fighting the rain. I also took a towel with me. My hair was still in the bun I’d put it up in for my bath.

It was really battering it down now - it was loud inside the car and the windows were steamed up. It was even louder when I turned the air conditioning on to defog the windows.

Once I could see outside the front and back windows I finally made my way to find Harry. I still mourned my bath as I drove - I missed how warm it was and how comfortable I had been. Now I was out in the cold and wet to rescue my drunken idiot friend.

It didn’t take me very long to find said drunken idiotic friend. He was sitting on a yellow grit box under some trees at the junction of Platt’s Lane and West Heath Road. He was soaking, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. I pulled up as close to him as possible and leaned over to push the door open.

“Get in, you moron!” I called.

Harry looked up at the sound of my voice. He leapt to his feet almost immediately after, and staggered his way over to my little car. He nearly tripped over twice on his way, and he hit his head as he sat down.

“Fucking hell.” I muttered. “Look at the state of you.”

He grumbled, readjusting his sodden jacket, and then looked right at me. His hair was drenched, water dripping from his neck down his arms and chest, and his forehead down his nose and cheeks.

“Here,” I threw the towel at him. “You’re gonna make my car smell.”

“‘S tha’ the wors’ a’ya problems?” He asked, a snide tone laced in his mushy words.

“I wish it was.”

I pulled off again as Harry began to attempt to dry himself off, although I feared a towel would do very little to help him. Fortunately we were only a mere five minute drive from his house anyway. He probably could have walked home faster if he were sober. 

It was a relatively quiet drive since Harry spent most of it rubbing my towel over every available inch of his body. He did however sing along to the one song he heard playing, but he didn’t quite have the same masterful tone as usual. He even seemed quite timid.

I parked as close as possible to his front door and shut the engine off.

“Where are your keys, H?”

He gave me a dopey blink and then looked down at himself, double chin appearing accompanied with a pouty lower lip. “Dunno. On me somewhere.”

I sighed and unclipped my seatbelt, then reached over to him to feel through each of his pockets for his house keys. Of course I found them in the hardest one to reach on the inside of his jacket. He giggled while I did, like a child being tickled. I smacked him on the arm before I got out of the car.

I ran up to the front door and unlocked it, opening it so that my paralytic companion could be jettisoned inside his home as quickly as possible without getting more wet.

“Come on, then,” I said as I opened the passenger door, my shoulders hunched because the rain felt weird on my neck.

Harry practically fell out of the car at my instruction, so I lifted him up and placed his arm around my shoulder so I could manage his weight better. I kicked the car door shut behind us and walked him to the door. I realised on our little walk how unfit I was.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I said, my voice tight. It was only strained because he was heavy and I was weak.

“Didn’t even think I drank tha’ much, was only few whiskeys.”

Only a few could range anything between 3 and 30. I didn’t chide him for that. “It’s alright, Harry. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” I meant that genuinely and not as a threat I’d be getting that level of drunk in the future just to call him to rescue me.

“Would.” He insisted.

I awkwardly held onto him as we got inside, twisting at an awkward angle to close the door and keep any more rain from getting in. Harry felt like dead weight against me.

“Ready to get upstairs?”

His affirming nod was the surest action I’d seen from him this far.

“Alright,” I took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

I made sure we navigated the stairs one at a time, because I had visions of him tripping up and cracking his head open if he tried to do anything by himself. And now, in the warmth of his massive home and up this close to him, the boy reeked of stale beer and sweat. I didn’t want to ask what he’d been doing in The Holly Bush for him to get that bad. I hadn’t seen him that wasted in a very long time.

“Meant it, y’know.” He slurred.

We were only halfway up the stairs and all I could hear was my own panting. Admittedly I was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet. 

“Meant what?” I heaved, and pushed him up the next step.

“I w’ do the same f’you.”

“I know you would.”

“Don’t even have t’ be drunk.”

“Right.”

We stopped for a minute, not at anyone’s request but Harry didn’t seem to want to move. I looked at him as he did me, and he produced this hazy-eyed, closed-lip smile. 

His woolly but content expression made me laugh. “I think it’s bed time for you, mate.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me ‘mate’.”

I frowned. “Alright. Sorry.”

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, Harry collapsed on me by way of a hug. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, his entire body somehow wrapped around mine. I was suffocating in the smell of a brewery.

“Don’t leave me.” He begged.

“I’m not… Need to get you to bed somehow.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, eyes heavy. “You can take me to bed.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He nodded repeatedly like a bobble-head figure. 

I made a face, perturbed, and nudged him in the direction of his bedroom. He nearly fell over as he turned around, and ended up palming the wall the rest of the way. I kept a hand on his back just in case.

As soon as he saw his bed he was climbing onto it, still fully clothed and in his muddy trainers.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, reaching after him like he was a toddler, “Harry, take your shoes off.”

He laughed maniacally into his bed sheets, the muffled sound disturbing.

I huffed with a scowl and did it myself. His vans were dripping wet so I took them to the radiator and left them on top to dry. I made sure the radiator was turned on, too. The last thing Harry Styles needed was the flu again.

He was sitting up now, watching me with a warm expression. I ignored it.

“Need to take your clothes off or you’ll get a cold.”

“Yes, Miss.” He was beaming now.

The attempt at taking his t-shirt off was painful, and I ended up having to help him.

“Jeans too.”

I knew that would be more agonising to watch than the t-shirt, and I didn’t want to have to look at his bare chest for too long, so I went for a walk to the closest bathroom to get another towel. His jeans were still around his knees when I got back.

“Jesus Christ.” I said through gritted teeth, and freed his jeans from around his ankles. They were a heavy kind of damp and thudded when I put them on the floor.

“‘S cold.” He commented, staring up at me.

“I’ve just put the radiator on.” I told him, and handed him the towel. “I’ll find you some clean pants.”

I left him to dry his no doubt tacky chest and legs while I searched through his drawers for some clean underwear. I threw them at him once I’d located them.

“Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Wardrobe.” He said, voice getting gruff.

I collected his dirty clothes from off the floor again and wandered into the walk-in wardrobe attached to his bedroom. I stared at it for a while, not just because it was ginormous but also because I couldn’t believe the amount of crap in it. It was bulging with clothes - some I hadn’t seen him wear for years and others I hadn’t seen him wear at all. Ever. 

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the overflowing basket in one of the cupboards, hating to do so because it was just adding to more chores. And then I realised that this was not my house and I would not be responsible for washing any of his clothes.

“Harry, do you want something to wear in bed if you’re cold?”

He never answered.

I peered into the bedroom to see he’d already tucked himself into bed.

“I guess not.” I muttered.

I stood next to his bed and watched him for a minute. His eyes were closed and he was breathing regularly but I couldn’t work out if he was actually asleep or just pretending to be. His eyelids looked shiny and delicate and his cheeks were dusted pink - a combination of his inebriation and being outside in the cold for so long. I could hear the radiator chugging and it was definitely warmer than it had been when we arrived.

Without thinking, still staring at him while possibly passed out like a lunatic creep, I wrapped my index finger around one of his curls and moved it out of his face.

He giggled suddenly, catching my wrist. “That tickled.”

I smacked his hand away. “I thought you were asleep, you absolute git!”

“Not yet.”

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. “I’m goin’ home. Seeing you in bed is making me want mine.”

“Can always share mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, and made a move to leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Aye, wait!” He shouted at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you t’ leave yet.”

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you’re about to pass out on me anyway.”

He said something that was complete and utter incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m not changing my mind.”

He whined my name again and reached for my hand. “Please stay bit longer? Like havin’ y’here, havin’ y’around.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I still want my own bed.”

“Please?”

“No.” I stood my ground, but I took a step closer and pinched his cheek. “But I’ll come back tomorrow after work if that makes you feel better.”

“Feel better if y’stayed wi’ me now.”

“Well that’s not going to happen. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Need y’now. Need y’all the time.”

“Stop being daft.”

“‘M not bein’ daft - I mean it.”

“You are being daft. Just go to sleep - I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

He stressed my name and sat up. “Y’not listenin’ to me. ‘M bein’ proper serious - I want ya t’ stay wi’ me. I need y’here.”

“No, what you need is sleep.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m going to go and get you a pint of water and a paracetamol and then I’m going home. And that’s the last we’re gonna say on this, end of.”

I left the room and  found my way to the kitchen, though admittedly I did get lost on my way there since I’d only been here once before and it was a considerable amount of time ago. I did as promised and got him a pint of water and found some paracetamol in a drawer full of miscellaneous items close to the sink.

I couldn’t fathom why Harry was so needy, insobriety aside. We were friends, yes, and had been for some time, but we weren’t that close. Or perhaps we were and I just refused to admit it due to his increasing popularity and the fact that being perceived near him in the public eye terrified me. I was perfectly happy with my mundane job and my mundane life. I appreciated Harry for what he was - a friend -, and didn’t expect anything more or less from that level of our relationship. Nor had I ever, and it surprised me that he suddenly did.

Perhaps I was overthinking it all. That was likely.

I returned to Harry’s room to find him out of bed in just his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked, putting the water and the tablets on his bedside table, trying to avoid looking at his chest.

“Need the loo.” He said without hesitation, and marched past me.

I sighed, watching after him until he was safely in the bathroom with the door closed, and then I perched on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands.

I was irritated, yes. I knew I shouldn’t be as irritated as I was, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the evening I had planned for myself. I was supposed to have an early night and go to work in the morning with a clear head and no bags under my eyes. Now I was going to look like the walking dead, and feel like it too.

I stood up again when Harry reappeared. I watched him stagger and sway across the corridor and it made me nervous. He tripped once and nearly smacked his face against the doorframe.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” I said, panicked, and reached forward to steady him.

He laughed, more a giggle of that from a small girl. “I’m so drunk.”

“I know you are. That’s why you need to get into bed.”

“I will, jus’ one more thing before I do,”

I thought he was going to start running riot around the house and I was going to have to chase after him, like a dog owner with a tyrannical pooch. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. His body was warm and it felt strange being this close to him when he had so little clothes on.

I let out a long breath, reciprocating it this time. “You’re a twat.”

He hummed when I stroked my hand over his damp hair. “Not very nice.”

“And yet still true.”

He grunted, but never moved a muscle. A moment of silence passed before he said anything else. “Thank you f’ comin’ to rescue me.”

“Sure, anytime.” I didn’t mean that. Or maybe I did, but I’d be bitter about it if it became a recurrence because I couldn’t stand to disappoint people who meant a lot to me.

He let me go, and I thought that was finally going to be the end of it. Instead, he took my face, quite harshly, between both of his hands until my cheeks squished. His gaze was dopey and warm again, but somehow different to last time. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Harry, that hurts.”

He ignored me. “I love you.” It sounded more like ‘ah luff you’ but that wasn’t relevant in the moment.

“Yeah, I love you too, now let go.” I was trying to pull his hands away but apparently he was still physically stronger than me even that drunk.

“No,” he shook his head at me and then brought what felt like my entire body against his chest. “I mean I really love you.”

I couldn’t see anything. I felt us begin to fall sideways, but with his strength I had absolutely no control over where we were going.

“Harry!” I screamed, still trying to fight him with no luck.

I think we hit the bed because the landing was softer than anticipated and Harry didn’t wince or flinch. That could also be attributed to the levels of alcohol in his body. He was probably majoritively quite numb.

“Y’like, my favourite person.” He said, voice much quieter now, and I could feel his nose in my hair. My face was pushed into his chest. “Want y’around all time. Rubbish a’ showin’ it but I miss y’when ‘m nor’ at home. ‘N I don’t mean everyone, I mean jus’ you.”

I was listening to him with baited breath. I’d never really been on the receiving end of ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ - I was usually the one talking and making a fool of myself. Once I told my sister’s boyfriend (at the time) what I really thought of him in front of our entire family after keeping my mouth shut for so long. They broke up the next day and she came to live with me for a month. I felt almost paralysed now listening to Harry.

“Mus’ think ‘m nuts ‘cause I’ve never said anythin’ before, bur’m scared. You’re a scary woman.”

I tried not to take offence to that, even though it was likely true. I had tried for the longest time to give off a very ambiguous aura. I didn’t want anyone to know me, least not the real me. I liked the illusion of being dead inside even if I was far from it.

“Loved y’ for so long now I can’ ‘ide it anymore.” He was really slurring now and words were about to fail him. Somehow, he was still holding onto me. “‘M like tha’ 1975 song.” I wanted to ask which one, but I didn’t have to. He proceeded to sing the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Just once he sang them, maybe slightly off pitch but it still sounded good. Not sure it would hold up to any of his previous performances, but I’d take it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a state of shock to be honest and the thought of moving terrified me. But then his grip around me loosened, and he let out a singular loud snore.

I pulled back, horrified, to see his sleeping face - mouth wide open. Another snore was released. “You are fucking joking.”

I sat up, his limp body falling away from me. I smacked his arm in the hopes of waking him, but he never flinched. “Harry,” I said, hitting him again.

Still no movement.

“Oi.” Smack.

Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do. Who does that? Who makes an admission like that and then falls asleep? And why did it have to be this boy? I was speechless, and when I finally managed to clamber off the bed I was also useless.

I stared at him with a look of bewilderment, as he lay there passed out on his unmade bed, mouth agape and naked besides his white y-fronts. It was then that the reality of what he’d said hit me, and I started to cry.

I wasn’t angry or upset - I was overwhelmed. Drunkenly, Harry had just told me he loved me. Then immediately passed out. Now I was left with my own feelings and his and no one to talk to about it. What was I supposed to do?

I desperately wanted to leave and get some sleep, but I also couldn’t help but think that would be morally inappropriate. Leaving a friend alone while dangerously intoxicated was how 50% of all murder documentaries started. Not that Harry was likely to get killed by an intruder in his mansion complete with security fortress. But he might accidentally fall down the stairs or choke on his own vomit.

And yet, the idea of staying in this massive and unfamiliar house to process all those thoughts made me even more hysterical. The idea alone provoked a loud sob, and I quickly covered my mouth because it was such a horrendous sound.

I made my decision that instant. I put Harry properly into bed with all of my remaining strength, covered him with his duvet, and then I fled from his house like a bat out of hell. On my way out, I took his spare keys with me.

I barely slept that night. My head was swimming and even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, my brain was in overdrive. That, and the cat was sleeping on my chest and purring right in my face. His whiskers tickled my nose.

I found myself thinking about the early stages of mine and Harry’s association. 

I couldn’t have called him a friend when we first met because I hated him. I don’t think that feeling was ever reciprocated on his part but I couldn’t ever stand to be in the same room as him. Why? Because I felt the need to constantly contradict societal comments and beliefs. The world - at least people in my world - deemed him a golden boy who never did any wrong. I was convinced it wasn’t the case. My downfall was my lack of determination to prove it.

We met through mutual friends, as these things always seemed to happen. I couldn’t even remember which friend it was - neither me nor Harry talked to them anymore. But one day he was just there, and periodically from then onward he continued to show up. I couldn’t even remember when it was, but it was before he cut all his hair off. One Direction’s last few remaining days, perhaps? Anyway, he was suddenly omnipresent and came with an abundance of attention and it infuriated me.

I remember once, Harry confronted me on my obvious dislike for him. That was our first encounter collectively with ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’. I can’t remember exactly what I said but I wasn’t very nice and I remember the Bambi look in his eyes when I walked away from him. After that he was notably absent for some time. If I asked him about it now I’m not sure how honest he’d be about it. He was lucky enough to be able to claim work absences for long periods of time - I imagined he’d use that excuse. How truthful that would be, I didn’t know.

Our reconciliation came after that. He saw me alone in the nearby shop and asked me to join him for a coffee. I couldn’t really say no - it was a Sunday afternoon and I was only going back home to vegetate for the rest of the day. I think it was spring - I probably would’ve just read a book and gone to bed early. We spent the next 3 hours in Ginger & White, and after we got kicked out of there we went up to The Holly Bush, ironically.

I saw a different side to Harry that night, and I always put it down to having him to myself. There was no one else there with us apart from the locals in the pub who wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It was just us, and he was unapologetically himself, as was I.  We suddenly had an entirely new perception of one another - a higher level of understanding. On that random Sunday evening alone, I came to appreciate Harry for just being Harry. I saw who he really was, and I liked him.

From then on, I enjoyed his company. It became a regular thing - an afternoon doing something random together, just the two of us. And it ranged from simple coffee shop talks to entire day trips out of London. I realised then that what we’d basically been doing was dating for about 5 years with no physical contact.

I laughed out loud, disturbing the cat. He ran off and left me alone. 

We’d had our own intimate relationships with other people outside of our friendship, which I guess is why I’d never thought about it that way before. He also seemed to do that with multiple other people - I wasn’t the only one. Was I?

I never had to apologise for the night I was rude to him. I always wondered why, and I always berated myself for not saying I was sorry. I’d admitted I was wrong about him a long time ago, but only to myself. It seemed a bit too late to do it now, but I assumed he’d forgiven me. I could’ve been wrong.

I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. My alarm for work went off just 3 hours later and I burst into tears as soon as I realised the situation I was in. I called into work sick and went straight back to sleep.

How much more sleep I had was uncertain. It felt like only 2 hours, but it could’ve been more. Since I wasn’t working, I decided to get a McDonald’s after showering. Mostly for Harry rather than me, although I’m sure he’d make a comment about it.

I used the key I’d stolen last night to let myself in and went straight up to his bedroom with the McDonald’s in my right hand. Except I didn’t make it to his bedroom, because I found him on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, on his front with his cheek pressed to the tile floor.

“Harry…?”

He moaned, limply raising his hand and dropping it again immediately.

I moved into the room, leaving the McDonald’s in the hall because the smell would not go well with the pre-existing one in the room. It seemed Harry had vomited since I left. I sat on my knees beside him and stroked a finger through his curls, similar to how I had done last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” He said, voice whiny.

“No, I’m not surprised. I brought you some breakfast.”

He managed to lift his head and look towards me. I pointed at the hallway and he followed where my finger suggested.

“What is it?”

“McDonald’s.”

He screwed his face up. “You know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yes, that’s why I got you a Fillet-O-Fish. And mozzarella sticks.”

“Not very healthy.”

“Well, boiled eggs and avocado doesn’t make for very exciting hangover food if you ask me.”

He blew a breath out so that his lips wobbled. “True.”

“You gonna sit up and eat it?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Come on, then,”

I took his arm and helped pull him to a sitting position. He sat against the bathtub and rolled his head back, mouth open and breathing heavy. I left his food in his lap and sat opposite him with my back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the worst hangovers I’ve had in a long time.” He said, grimacing into the paper bag. At least he could form complete words this morning.

“How much do you remember?”

He laughed once. “Not much. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to come get me. I remember when you turned up, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting home.”

I swallowed thickly. That meant he probably didn’t remember telling me he was in love with me. Or rather, singing it.

“Next thing I’ve woke up in my pants about to vomit.”

“I think you were the most drunk I’ve ever seen you.”

He paused before he took a bite out of his fillet burger. “Really?”

“Hands down. You fell over nearly three times. And you wouldn’t let me go home.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised by that. I’m a very clingy drunk.”

“I was aware of that before last night.” I muttered. “Who were you with?”

“Tom and Tyler.”

“Ah, one of those evenings, was it?

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be quite that bad, though. Was only going for one.”

“That’s how they all start.”

“Mm, I should know better.”

“Yes you should.”

He laughed around his mouthful and then swallowed it. “This was a good call, thank you.”

“No problem. Although I have to say I did not expect to watch you eat it on the bathroom floor.”

“I know. Feel like a uni student.”

“I don’t think uni students have bathrooms this big.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything while his mouth was full. “Think I’m gonna have a shower, if you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Your house.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “Will you hang around a bit while I do?”

“Sure. I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Cool.” He grinned. 

He shoved the empty box into the paper bag and screwed it up. I took the rubbish off him once we were standing again and left him alone to shower.

I did as I said I would and made him a coffee, and then helped myself to a glass of water and an apple out of the fruit bowl on his counter. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. He seemed to be behaving normally, so I was certain he’d forgotten his admission, but that worried me because I was now going to have to admit that I knew. And I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt.

When Harry did reappear he was fully clothed and looked a lot fresher than he had done before. His hair was damp but beginning to curl and his complexion had a bit more life to it.

“Feel better?”

“Loads better, thank you.”

“That’s good.” I said with a pressed smile. I pushed his coffee towards him.

“Cheers. Where’s yours?” He asked with a subtle frown as he took a sip out of his mug. He made an approving sound. “That’s good.”

“You know, I don’t actually like coffee.”

His frown deepened. “You have coffee all the time.”

“No, I have a mocha.”

“That’s still got coffee in it.”

“Yes, but the hot chocolate kind of makes it a fake coffee. A coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “I had a thought upstairs just now… why aren’t you at work?”

“Because I barely slept.”

He looked concerned. “You better not have stayed really late because of me. Should’ve kicked me in the crotch and told me to get over myself.”

“Oh believe me, I tried to leave you here to go to bed, H. But I actually got back at an acceptable hour, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Just a bad night?”

I hummed. “No, I still blame you.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter side.

I looked at the kitchen top and pursed my lips. “You… you told me something that gave me a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t give you some rubbish music samples, did I?”

I snorted. “I wish. Might’ve helped me sleep.”

“What then? I can’t remember anything.”

After a charged silence, I let out a long sigh. “You told me you love me. You said you love me, and then gave this little speech about missing me. And not just as friends - you said like The 1975’s song, I’m in love with you. But you sang that part, and then immediately fell asleep.”

When I met Harry’s gaze again he was staring at me, and biting his cheek. Neither of us said anything for a while. I was hoping he’d say something. Or perhaps me repeating what he said last night meant he felt like he didn’t need to say anymore.

I cocked my head. “Did you mean it?”

He stood taller, inhaling as his gaze became glassy. “Yeah. Yeah of course I did. Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, obviously. But I meant it, although I didn’t mean to tell you in that way… you know, while utterly shit faced.”

“You were completely shit faced.”

“Yeah… no, that’s not how I planned on telling you.”

“Was there a different plan?”

“Maybe…” He turned his nose up and scratched the back of his head. “If I told you what it was you’d hate it-,”

“You don’t know that.” I retorted.

He raised a judgemental brow at me. “Er, yes I do.”

I laughed and put my head on the table. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, but it had a lightheartedness to it, “of course I fucking meant it. Been living with it for ages - it’s all had time to brew. Aged like a fine wine.”

I started laughing, and then I felt his arms wrap around my chest. I was pulled up by him to stand straighter, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. His back was against my front and it felt quite nice. I don’t think we’d ever stood like that before.

“Your love has aged like a fine wine?”

“Sounds right cheap when you say it like that.” 

“You said it. That is literally what you said.” I was still laughing.

“I know.” He whimpered.

I twisted my head to look at him, but he’d hidden his face. “You’re gonna have to bear with me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, this is a lot for me. I’m still… processing it, and I don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend and I love you, of course I do. Just…”

“Not in love with me yet.” He concluded.

“Yet.” I sniggered.

“I’ll remain optimistic, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He giggled, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Take your time. Preferably not forever though, ‘cause… the biological clock is ticking.”

I snorted again. “Reel it in.”

“Sorry.” He hummed and squeezed my shoulders tightly. “I am going to have a movie day on the sofa. Do you want to stay?”

“For that I do, fuck yeah.”

“Sweet… go and make yourself comfy. I’ll get the snacks.”

He bumped my hip with his when I passed him so I kicked him back. He gave a childish laugh, and I shook my head at him, but I found as I wandered into his overcompensating living room that I had this giddy feeling in my stomach I’d never felt with him before.

What was I, the most stubborn woman on Earth, going to do?

~

“What d’you want, H?”

“Not a very charming greeting.” He groused.

I pouted. “You’re interrupting my bath time.”

“Is there some space left in the bathtub?”

I smirked and sank lower into the water. “For you? Never.”

“Hey!”

“Always,” I laughed around my correction, “I meant always.”

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled. “I was calling because I think it might be my turn to get dinner. So what do you fancy?”

“Well, you, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His matter-of-fact tone matched mine. I could imagine him nodding his head. “How about a chippy?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. My usual please.”

“Curry sauce too?”

“Wouldn’t be my usual without it.”

“Just checking. So, I will be knocking on your door within the next hour. Make the most of that bath ‘cause I’m coming.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.”

“Bye-bye.”

“Love you!” I shouted before he could put the phone down.

He was quiet for a minute. “Blimey. Don’t need to shout it, darlin’.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Just in case you forgot.”

“I could never. But I love you more. See you shortly.”

“Okay, bye-bye. Love you most.”

“No!” He shouted, but I cut him off before he could refute it more.

I felt smug. I let out a satisfied sigh and laid my head back against the edge of the tub. 

I had taken my time in coming around to Harry’s admission, but he was incredibly patient with me and I was always grateful for that. It had been little over a year since his little bender, and I felt really good about everything. We felt really good about everything.

Our relationship seemed to only be moving up at a pace we were both happy with, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. All we had to do was keep it that way, and I had every confidence we could.

~~~

If you read this far, thank you <3

Come Talk To Me

[askchilchuck]

Hey, how can I help you?

(Please read below before interacting)

Hi! My name is Sophie! This blog has gotten enough traction that I feel the need to lay some ground rules for it.

1) This blog is intended to be PG13 so I don’t have to exclude younger fans from participating. I will not be answering anything that wouldn’t fly in canon, or is adjacent to it. Anything explicitly sexual, or can be construed that way will not be answered.

2) Nothing related to suicide please. I tried playing it off the first time but between myself and some people around me, even the “KYS 🥰🥰🥰” jokes really aren’t funny, especially recently. Asks including it will not be answered.

3) No firearms. Related to rule 2.

4) Please no spammy asks. I’m honestly not sure how to answer them, and they clog up both the blog itself and the main tags.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to bully him, but these things cross a line for me. Thank you for understanding.

If you’re an RP blog, you’re more than welcome to interact! Even if you’re not a Dunmeshi blog! I don’t always have the time to do reblog chains, though, so please don’t feel bad if I miss you there. It’s easiest for me if you submit RP as an ask when the box is open. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause. You can also DM this account for private RP if you’d like, but I may not respond promptly.

IN LIGHT OF DUPLICATE CHARACTERS:

I think that’s awesome and also really funny. I encourage it. We’ve already got a loose MCU/multiverse plot line going on so we can totally make it work, too. Hell yeah. Hilarious. Love that. /gen

Blog lore:

This blog takes place loosely post canon. I try to avoid spoilers, but little things here and there are inevitable. Chilchuck has made up with his wife and they’re currently working on their relationship. Chilchuck is also in therapy. This is for a few reasons.

1) I don’t think he’d actually answer any of these if he wasn’t.

2) He doesn’t talk about it a lot, but it was one of his wife’s conditions before giving the relationship another go.

3) He just. Should be in general and I have control of it so it’s happening lol

My Chil is bi, but in the middle-aged “everyone’s had gay thoughts before” kinda way, cause I think it’s funnier that way. He also gets high from time-to-time now that he’s not dungeneering anymore.

Folks kept turning him into different things/animals, so goldstar/⭐️ anon gave him an amulet to put a stop to that.

Squeaker also used a device to prevent any crab transformations specifically from occurring, as well as ejecting all crabs within like. 10 miles or something (I’ll double check this later.)

There’s also a cult stalking him for some reason.

The TVA (Marvel) is loosely involved as well as previously mentioned. Squeak fixed it (kind of).

Also, Chil’s knowledge of the blog/Tumblr varies depending on what would be funnier, but generally he’s aware of the internet. He only uses his phone to answer your asks, though. He has no idea how to do anything else and has no desire to. This means he doesn’t fact check people or knows anything about the greater internet experience. No one knows how he got the phone, or how it’s holding a charge. Don’t worry about it.

(It’s 5am rn and I’m too tired to link relevant posts, I’ll get to it later I promise.)

I myself don’t talk in the main posts, unless it’s tagged #ooc. Otherwise, I’ll always talk in the tags if I’ve got something to say.

Emoji anons:

•⭐️/goldstar anon

•🦉/owl anon

•👻/ghost anon

•♡/heart anon

No other heart variants have been claimed. Also, heads up to all emoji anons, I’m going to start using just one tag for your asks going forward to make tagging easier! So I’ll just be using the emoji variant from here 💖

If you want to hang out with me in a less censored area, I also run @chilfucked which is 18+ only.

I also reserve the right to update these rules as time goes on, so please check them again before submitting when the ask box is open again. Thank you!

[crushpunky]

how rafe cameron x the 1975!reader met

definitely met at a party at tanneyhill where reader was out smoking a joint by herself on the balcony off of rafe’s room (aka the place where rafe went when he needed a break from the chaos of the party)

rafe flung the door open, startling reader. they locked eyes for a second before reader looked down at rafe’s blood covered shirt:

“what the hell happened to you?” reader said, her eyebrows raised. “what are you doing up here? how did you— did top let you up here? i swear to god—” rafe rambled, running his bruised knuckles through his hair haphazardly. “i got up here on my own. but it’s fine, i was just leaving anyways…” reader took a step towards the door, but was stopped by rafe. “look i’m sorry just— finish your smoke it’s fine.”

reader continued smoking in silence for a moment before offering rafe a hit, which he took thankfully

as they continued smoking, passing the join back and forth, the conversation began to flow easier. rafe learned reader’s friend had ditched her to hook up with some guy, leaving her to fend for herself. after an hour or so of having random dudes try and flirt with her (which she turned away with a simple laugh), she had escaped up to the balcony

once they finished the joint, reader got up to leave, but rafe stopped her once again:

“where are you going?” rafe asked, his face seemingly earnest despite the copious amounts of drugs and adrenaline coursing through his veins. “leaving.” reader shrugged. “leaving?” rafe scoffed. “why don’t you come with me and we can have some fun, hm? “hmm… alright.” reader hummed and rafe grinned, staring at her giddily from his chair. “you better hurry up though,” reader said, opening the door, “before i change my mind.”

rafe scrambled to follow her. they made their way downstairs, reader pulling rafe out onto the pseudo-dance floor in the middle of the backyard. they danced (or more like reader danced on rafe and rafe just watched) for what felt like hours before readers friend came back, hookup in tow… which just so happened to be jj

reader immediately grabbed both her friend and jj’s hands, pulling them towards her, which caused rafe to shoot reader a confused look and jj a glare

reader continued dancing on rafe, but also drifted to dance with her friend, leaving jj and rafe to watch in confusion as the girls danced on each other, giggling:

“hey, what the fuck?” rafe shouted over the music reader’s ear. “you’re more than welcome to join, cameron. you too, jj.” reader said, running a hand through her friend's hair. “i’m not fucking dancing with maybank—” rafe began, but was cut out as jj nearly threw himself inbetween reader and her friend. “your loss, goodnight cameron!” jj said, running his hands along reader and her friends' sides. “motherfucker—” rafe grabbed onto jj’s shirt, but was stopped as reader pulled him towards her. “relax, cameron. Just having a little bit of fun, like you said right?” reader whispered in his ear before pressing a kiss to his jaw.

rafe stared at reader dumbfounded as she returned to dancing with him, feeling utterly scrambled from her interesting mix of emotions

the night continued for what felt an eternity, the two of them making out on the dancefloor until rafe eventually dragged her upstairs to his bed

the very next morning rafe woke up to find his bed empty, the only evidence reader was there a note scrawled on a purple post-it followed by her phone number:

same time next week, cameron. xoxo, reader

rafe laughed to himself before tossing the note back on his bedside table, entering her number into his phone:

last night was fun, but i was hoping to see you a bit sooner be careful, cameron. don’t need another boy obsessed with me ;) very funny. i’ll see you tomorrow

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Kalim Angst

Apologies, it gets Rough, tw: gore?, SH/hemomania (the urge to drink your own blood upon sight), feelings of euphoria, childhood trauma/poison/drug/kidnapping, strained relationship with Jamil/Jamil is villainized more (not sorry) /lh, scabs, picking scabs, etc. ..... hahaha...aha..haha...this is really not a happy post, PLEASE scroll if you don't want to read.

It was never supposed to come to this. But by Seven did it feel good. The initial pain had subsided and as Kalim raised his arm to his lips, he closed his eyes a little, the imaginary sound of Jamil's voice chiding him.

You're gonna get an infection if you do that. You need to stop Kalim. You could die if you do that, stop it! A giddy little giggle spilled from him as he licked more blood up from his forearm. If only. Jamil could pretend to care all he wanted, but even in his denial, Kalim knew that the boy he saw as his closest friend would only be crying crocodile tears at his funeral, forced to be there by obligation.

Not that it mattered. Most of the people Kalim saw as family didn't see him that way back- they would also attend his funeral out of a sense of obligation, or duty. He was competition, he was a target, he was a nuisance, he was in the impediment in other people's pursuit for success and happiness-namely his aunts and uncles. Despite the attempted kidnappings, the drugging, the poisons- he chose to keep a positive outlook on life. A positive outlook- yeah...that's how other people saw it...how he made them see him. While it was true he didn't want to live in constant fear and suspicion of the people around him, it didn't mean he was happy. It was easier not to feel anything, and just slap on a happy face. With all his younger siblings, it wasn't like he didn't do it all the time anyways. They didn't need to know what their parents were doing to him, and he was glad it was him dealing with the backlash rather than any of them. None of them would think to do what he'd learn to do anyways. He could feel he dizziness kicking in, but reached for the small dagger he had brought with him and sliced two more small incisions each on his arms, kicking his feet a little and licking up the rivulets of blood eagerly. How ironic was it that the dagger had been a birthday gift from his father meant to be used to defend himself? Instead he was using it to cut himself open, the pain barely recognizable at this point. He'd been doing this so often it was always just the first cut that hurt now. The first time he hadn't done it to himself. It was after one of the kidnapping attempts. Honestly he didn't remember much of it. He was sitting in his room, but he could hear his father yelling outside of his room, a tone he had never heard from him before. He was disoriented still trying to process that he was in his room rather than...where had he been taken? It didn't really matter. The point was he was in his room...and he was alone... He hugged himself a little, gasping softly in surprise as his fingers brushed over a rough feeling patch of skin near his elbow. He turned his arm curiously to find a scab forming on his arm, though at the time he didn't know what it was called. All of his "boo-boos" were always magicked away- he could only assume this had been missed by accident. Thinking back, it would have been funny if it was left there on purpose. As if the person who had intended to hurt him was in kahoots with the doctor, taunting Kalim with a realm of possibilities and ideas with exposure to....with the reminder of pain.

Because he'd never had one before, he didn't know any better, itching at the scab until it came off, making him squirm in disgust as it laid half peeled off his arm. Given that the adults still seemed tense, he didn't want to call for help. Instead he screwed his eyes shut and gave it a small tug, whimpering a bit as the scab popped off his skin and he could feel wetness on his arm. He studied the scab in confusion for a moment before setting it aside on a tissue and trying to look at his arm, where the wetness was, to no avail. He tried to touch it again, eyes widening slightly as his fingers held just the smallest bit of blood on them. The red liquid was fascinating, and without thinking he brought his fingers to his lips. Though it was only a few drops, it scratched an itch in his mind that he didn't know needed relief.

And from there it had been a slippery slope. He hid injuries from the nurses, he found ways to heal himself if he ever went too far, he started using other tools to reopen or widen or deepen his wounds just to fill his mouth with the coppery taste of his own blood, making his mind go fuzzy and happy like it was now.

Kalim laid back against the roof of the dorm, panting softly and letting his arms fall to his sides, his chin and arms glistening with blood under the full moons illumination. He could feel himself on the verge of passing out, reaching blindly for his pen as he breathlessly healed himself before the pain would make itself obvious, letting himself come down slowly from his happy state of mind as he licked the blood clean off of himself, small giggles slowly turning drowsy.

As the dizziness began to ease, he forced himself to sit up. He needed to get back to his room to clean up any mess that would indicate what he had been doing before Jamil would come in the morning to wake him up. He took a few shaky breaths as tears finally started to well up in his eyes. Even with the blood, with the one thing that made him feel sane, nothing compared to the amount of guilt and loneliness that came from remembering the way Jamil looked at him when he overblotted. From the things he said. Kalim looked down at his arms again, and then to the dagger within arms reach, his fingers moving faster than his mind as his vision went blurry from tears. He wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. Just a little more, just a little more he whispered under his breath as he plunged the knife deeper than before, something between laughter and a wail leaving him as mania took over and the crimson stain of his blood cascading down his arm and painting his mouth red as he chased his feeling of euphoria.