#if being self-deprecating in the tags is gonna get me messages like this I should do it more often (I'm joking)

[maya-tl]

Hey, I don't have a request but I wanted to thank you for for being one of the few active gentle surgery content creators out there. I know it's weird but it's become a bit of a comfort ship for me.

It's also inspired me to try writing my own as well, there is only so much content for it.

EIIUUGHOOUGHHHEEEUGH

This was the nicest surprise I can actually feel my tear glands working overtime. There will be no shame in this house about finding comfort in Gentle Surgery—I do that too!! We'll be weird together!! 🤝🏻

There is such a lack of content for this ship that I deadass decided I was gonna do it myself. Like Thanos. I'm overjoyed to not be alone. ❤️

Thank you for the lovely ask and best of luck on the writing journey!! I believe in you!!

[redpandaramblings]

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 3.

Part 1- Here

Previous part Here

Next Part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship

Where we left off-

You glanced up at the sound of the door. In came your parents, then the Yokomadas. You did a double take as the final person, the omega you were here to meet, entered the room. They looked equally as startled as your eyes locked.

“Y/N?”

“Denki?!”

You slowly walked through the teahouse garden, your electric blond friend oddly silent as he kept pace with you. Your parents and the Yokomadas had allowed the two of you a bit of privacy to talk. So far, neither of you had mustered the courage to break the awkward atmosphere. Neither your parents or the Yokomadas had seemed to pick up on Denki or your mood. If anything, they were thrilled you two already knew each other. With a sigh, you sat on a bench by the koi pond, not looking at the blond as to settled down next to you. After several minutes, he spoke.

“So. What are you doing here?”

You snorted, and gently dumped your shoulder against his.

“Right back at you, Pikachu.”

“I’ll tell you. After you tell me.”

You chuckled humorously, and tilted your head back to look at the sky.

“Would you believe me if I said I was just here to appease my mother?”

Denki considered for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. You’ve been saying no to her for years. So tell me, why are you here.”

You take a deep breath and let it out again slowly through your nose.

“I… I think I wanted to be here. Needed to.” You wrung your hands, throwing a sideways glance at Denki. “I… I want to be mated. Have a family. Have someone who needs me and lets me need them. I used to think Kat… I used to think Bakugou was my person. But I’m not sure anymore, Denks. You know what he’s like and so do I, but I’ve waited for years, and nothing, and I’m so tired, and I’m not even sure he even likes me anymore, and…” You’re stopped by Kaminari gently rubbing your back.

“Breath, Y/n. Come on. Deep breaths.”

You inhaled shakily. You hadn’t even noticed you’d been hyperventilating. Quiet settled again, aside from the sounds of nature and your slowly slowing breathing. After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I’m just so lonely, Denks. I see him every day, and I’m still so goddamn lonely. So I think… I think it’s time to let go.” Your lips twitched slightly upward as you tilt your head to look at him. “Am I terrible?”

Denki huffed out a breath and shook his head. “You? Never.” He sighed, removing his hand from you back as he began picking at the hem of his sleeve. “I wish I could say I didn’t understand. But I do. I’m kinda here for the same reason after all.”

You gave an encouraging hum and reached out, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his knuckles. He interlaced your fingers, giving a squeeze before continuing to speak.

“You know how I feel about Shinso, right?”

“I think everyone but Shinso knows how you feel about him.”

Denki snorted. “Yeah. Not surprised. But that’s the problem. I’ve liked him for years. Little bit of a crush but at UA, thought I could play it cool and it would go away; but then the agency paired us together and, well.” Denki gestured with the hand not holding yours. “It was so easy! I’d go boom! And then he’d go pow! Then shoom! It was amazing! He was amazing… And so I tried to get his attention. I tried so damn hard. And you know me.”

You snorted, giving his hand a squeeze. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a living room window.”

“Exactly!” He shouted, pulling away to stand up and pace. “I flirted. I used all my best pick up lines. I asked him out to the club, and he said yes. But do you know what he said afterward? He said though it wasn’t his usual scene, it was really good being able to hang out with a friend. I… I asked him to spend my heat with me.”

You inhaled sharply. Kaminari looked at you with an expression you hardly recognized. He collapsed onto the bench, leaning heavily against you.

“He said ‘I’m glad you’re that comfortable with me, but it probably would be better for you to ask someone else.’” Denki whispered, sniffling.

“Oh.. Denki.” You wrapped your arms around the blond, squeezing him tightly. Half out of instinct, you tried to pump out soothing pheromones while you gently scented his hair. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing, sweetheart. You’re a wonderful omega!”

That was all it took for Denki to start sobbing heavily in your arms. You squeezed him tightly as tears filled your own eyes. The tears fell when Denki wrapped his arms around you, hugging you just as tightly as you held him. There in the tranquil garden you both huddled together as you finally allowed yourself to cry. Years of hurt and longing fell from your eyes one drop at a time.

You weren’t sure how long it had been when the two of you slowly pulled away from each other. You used your thumbs to wipe Denki’s cheeks. He gave you a halfhearted smile.

“So,” you asked tentatively, “what should we do? They’re going to expect an answer from us about this whole…” You waved a vague hand “Marriage date thing.”

Denki hummed, puffing up his cheeks as he blew out a breath. “God, I don’t know. Certainly wasn’t expecting it be you, you know? No offense.”

You drew back, gasping in mock anger. “Full offense!” You could only hold your expression a few seconds before you started snickering.

Denki grinned his first really grin of the day. “Well excuuuuse me for insulting your alpha sensibilities.”

“You’re excused. For now.”

You both chuckled. Looking out at the pond, you spoke again. “I just wish I had the right answers. And I really wish we had more time.”

Denki furrowed his brow. “Well… Technically, we could.”

“What do you mean?”

Denki bounced on his seat. “Okay. So. Hear me out. We both need time to process, clearly. Also clearly, our families are just not gonna give us that. So… Why don’t we do this?”

“Wait. Wait. We do this?” you asked, both curious and incredulous.

“Yeah! Think about it. One! They mainly want us in relationships they approved of. They set us up, so clearly, they approve. Two! If we say we’d like to try out this match, they obviously aren’t going to set up any more dates; therefore buying us time. And bonus of no annoying randos. Three! We can say we’re going to take the relationship slow because we’ve both been burned before and want to make sure. Four! Four…” Denki trailed off, looking at his feet.

“Four is maybe if we can’t find a love match at least we’re friends who work well together?” You murmured.

Denki nodded, glancing at you with a rueful smirk. “Yeah. Exactly. Vibe on the same wavelength. Hell, we even want similar shit in life.”

“Actual house, few pets, stability…”

Denki nodded again. “Sucks, but would make sense for us to consider it. As much as I fucking hate the ‘You’re not getting any younger’ speech, they are kind right. We can’t waste all our time waiting for things that aren’t gonna happen.”

You shook your head with a chuckle. “God, don’t you hate it when they’re right about shit like that?”

“You have no idea.”

You stood, stretching. “Well, I guess we go tell them, then.”

Denki groaned. “There isn’t enough saki in the world for that conversation.”

“And just so we’re clear, this stays between us for now, right? No one knows but us, our folks, and I guess your cousins.”

“Agreed. I don’t want to think about what anyone would say. Bakugou would kill me!”

You winced. “Unlikely. I doubt he’d care. But if Mina finds out, everyone will know.”

“You’re not kidding. No worries from me, I don't want this getting out any more than you do.”

“So… Engaged, I guess?”

Denki dusted himself off and stood. “Deal. Engaged.” Denki stuck his hand out, and you shook it.

You both turned and started making your way back to the teahouse, taking your time and going the long way to be sure to avoid and of the other patrons. This was fine. A good plan. Nothing could go wrong as long as no one found out.

And there you have part 3! Sorry the wait and thank you all for being patient! If anyone has any questions regarding the fic or how this particular omegaverse operates, please feel free to shoot me an ask. Also, please note that @snuggleyourredpandas is my main account, so it you see a message reply from them, that's me!

TAGLIST- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @one-simp-more, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I'd have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!

[hansolmates]

one more time (m)

pairing; (former) popular!jk x (former) normie!reader summary; it’s been two years since you’ve seen your former tryst jeon jungkook. you didn’t expect him to be applying for the internship you’re currently running, along with the rate your heart is running at the sight of him in a black suit. genre/warnings; self-deprecating language, your typical (future) co-workers!au, jungkook is a piner and so is oc, a lil bit of sneaking around, adulting, a mutual understanding of feelings (finally!!) smut in the form of—soft n’ dirty baybee, unprotected, cockwarming, overstimulation, minor praise and possession kink, cumplay, &you know that they gon have heart eyes the entire time w.c; 7.3k a/n; darn why am i so... emotional over this??? it started out as a meaningless drabble series but with all my lovely readers and moots it’s grown into such a fun, introspective series. thank u for loving this and joining me on this journey. for those of u who are new to this series feel free to read popular-ish first or as a standalone! [popular-ish masterlist]

if you’ve enjoyed this (whether as a standalone or as a series) please consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨✨✨

“A mess, I’m a mess,” you sing-song to yourself, organizing the manuals on the clear glass by subject and size. The applications of all your new interns are alphabetized, not a form out of place. Everything’s perfect. “Alright Jessica, all twenty of the interns are accounted for.” 

“Actually, there’s twenty-three,” Jessica quips, and you let your shoulders slump. Being part of the recruiting team of your company has been simultaneously exciting and stressful. Stressful because of the constant travel, but otherwise exciting because you loved your internship at your current company. You remember how nervous you were two years ago, and how much support and help you got from your recruiters. Applying to this team was a natural turn of events. 

“A-are you sure, Jess?” you look through all the applications, count the amount of nametags, triple check the chairs. You’re sweating through your blazer, wondering where you went wrong. 

The head of your recruiting team glues one hand to her hip, while the other hand is holding her iPad, scrolling with her thumb. You swallow, intimidated by Jessica’s golden wavy locks and her black-trimmed white Chanel pantsuit. 

“Yep, but don’t be too hard on yourself. I just added three more recruits last night. I’ll get the chairs and the apps are being printed. No worries,” Jessica assures, gesturing for you to hurry up and get outside, “Call the babies in!” your team leader waves her finger around like a magic wand, commanding you to the front lines. 

Krystal puts a hand on her shoulder, as always looking impeccable. She has virtually nothing to worry about. She’s a woman who has connections, courtesy of her team leader. “Let’s go, newbie,” she teases, pulling you through the door. 

The recruits in the lobby are wide-eyed and vibrant, and you feel a little nostalgic as you watch them line up in front of you and Krystal as you sign them in. You would dwell on the feeling more if it wasn’t for your exhaustion, so you decide you’ll get a chance to take a road down memory lane when you get to the hotel. 

“Name?” 

“Xu Minghao.” 

“Congrats Minghao, here’s your nametag and I’ll see you inside,” with a firm handshake, one recruiter is free to go. 

“Name?” 

“Chou Tzuyu.” 

“Congrats Tzuyu, here’s your name tag and I’ll see you inside,” she doesn’t go in straight away, and moves to the side of the door. “Actually,” you pause mid-handshake with another recruit, staring at the woman in curiosity, “my boyfriend just got a call last night that he was accepted in this year’s batch. Do you have his name?” 

“Yes, three more recruits were added,” you chirp, as if you totally did not hear that bit of information five minutes ago, “What’s his name—Jungkook?” 

The both of you blink at each other. One hand on Tzuyu’s shoulder, eyes wide and mirroring yours. Your heart falls straight to your stomach, wanting to be eaten by acids and bacteria so you can stop any possibility of feeling any lingering affection for the boy you fooled around with in undergrad. Everything about him screams professional. He’s clean cut, a pinstripe black suit you never thought he’d own, and his hair is neatly trimmed and pulled behind his ears. His shoulders look tall and broad under the slight padding, his biceps comfortably stretching against the dark fabric. The golden complexion remains the same however, from the honest brown eyes to the coral pink lips that would always smile at you. 

“Oh, so you do have his name!” Tzuyu clasps her hands together, delighted. He has a girlfriend, too. It’s then you realize you’ll be stuck with not just him, but her for the week. “You guys are so efficient. C’mon Kookie, let’s find some seats!” 

“I still gotta get my nametag,” he replies goodnaturedly, gesturing to you, “save us some seats in the front?” 

Tzuyu thinks nothing of it, squeezing his bicep before skipping off to the front row. Your eyes linger on her form, and it’s only then you realize how tall and intimidatingly pretty she looks in that plaid teddy bear brown skirt suit. You did not look that good when you were a budding undergrad. 

By this time, Krystal has taken all your other recruits from your line, regarding you with a raised brow. She’s fast with her attendance, so you know you don’t have much time. 

“I applied last minute,” Jungkook says, scratching his head, “was running out of options before graduation. I didn’t know you’d be one of my recruiters, though. Lucky me.” 

Jungkook and you never ended up keeping in contact, at least as of recent. A check-in message a few months in, a happy birthday or holiday greeting late at night. But two years later and those messages are automatic, with no feeling or personality. You never thought you’d see him again, no less in the city. 

“You just graduated with your masters, congrats,” you smile at Jungkook, although you’re sure the feigned emotion fails to reach your eyes, “IT Management, right?” 

“You remembered,” Jungkook brightens, reaching over to squeeze your shoulder, “you look good.” 

“Oh please—”  you laugh to yourself, shaking your head, “I just got off a flight and I ran over in a two-day old suit, I don’t even have makeup on,” you didn’t feel this way in the morning, you just rushed to do the bare minimum to be enough and ran over to the convention hall. But now in the presence of Jungkook who looks so handsome and clean-cut, you can’t help but feel a little slighted at the sudden reunion. 

“You’re always beautiful,” Jungkook exhales, and you clutch your clipboard closer to your chest. 

You cough, an excuse for him to stop touching your shoulder, “You should go inside, it’s gonna start soon. We can catch up later.”

“Wait—” you make a scrunched up face that Jungkook can’t catch, but right in Krystal’s view. You can tell she’s laughing at you internally with her devious grin. “I just wanted to say, Tzuyu isn’t my girlfriend. We’re just…” 

“Fooling around?” you didn’t mean for it to sound so sharp, but you wanted this conversation over. You have a job to do and Jungkook is your emotional barrier. 

You and Jungkook used to fool around. 

Jungkook winces, looking younger in his monkey suit. “I mean if you give me a chance to explain later—”  

“Nametag, let’s go newbie.” Krystal slaps on the sticker herself, a little too hard if she asked. She doesn’t even bother to write his full name, just a bright green Jeon JK, IT Management tacked on his breast pocket, clashing with the gold pocket square. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook tucks his tail in for now, bowing at you and Krystal as he scurries inside. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Krystal doesn’t bother to comfort you or ask what’s up—not that you want her to, even though you do want a breather before you have to go up on that stage and explain the itinerary for a week. The only thing you can do is smooth out your skirt, brush away the flyaways on your hairstyle and plaster a company-paid smile on your face.

The autopilot switch is on throughout the rest of the morning. Not just because Jungkook’s around, but the new position has got you on livewire. You’re glad that you’re not wearing base makeup because you are absolutely melting with all the high beam lights all up in your face as you talk through the week’s activities. 

You could swear Jungkook clapped a little harder than most once you stopped talking, but maybe it’s because you’re not used to seeing Jungkook in the very front of a lecture. In fact, he was a very hard middle person, preferring not to show off his intelligence and let other people lead the discussion. Then again, it’s been two years, you don’t know how much he’s changed. 

Jessica caps off the seminar with a great kick-off, the happy hour. The recruitment team picks a four star restaurant under their hotel so the recruits can enjoy themselves before going off to the training facility for a week. 

And by training facility, you also mean yet another four-star hotel. You knew you made the right decision by joining this company because the benefits are impeccable, and value personal enjoyment just as much as they value work ethic. In the morning you and the recruits will be driving uptown to a private resort where there would be classes in the morning, and recoup in the evening. You’re very much looking forward to the infinity pool on the roof. 

The recruits are ushered out as soon as you’re done, and that’s when you step out of the shadows to clean up the chairs and the brochures left behind. Thankfully Jungkook is probably following the norm and going back to the hotel to freshen up before dinner. Once the room is completely empty, you rip off your blazer and let yourself relax. 

It’s going to be a long week. 

Jeon: where u @?

You: hotel room

Jeon: why? Thought we were all gonna have dinner together

You: nahhh, this night is for the recruits! You’ll be tired of our faces by the end of the week, enjoy it while you can 😉  have a good night

You sigh in contentment, relaxing further into the silk sheets. You just finished your skincare routine, letting some mindless drama play as the essences and serums sink into your skin. All you want is one Jungkook-free night. Tomorrow you’ll be stuck training him and Tzuyu for the week and you want to take tonight to emotionally prepare yourself. 

Your phone rings once more. 

Big Baddie Jessica Jung: krystal and i ordered takeout in the restaurant downstairs. Can u bring it to our  room? Plsssssss 

Little Baddie Krystal Jung: it’ll be faster if you do it, we even got u a lil somethin🍰🍰🍰

Taking in your outfit, you grimace. You’re dressed for bed, a large nightie with your hair pulled back and a little pink bunny tie headband on top. Can’t they get room service to send it up? You admire your boss but you don’t understand why she needs to display her power over and over, she already knows you’ll follow her to the ends of the earth. 

Quickly slipping into a pair of sneakers you run down the expanse of the hotel. It’s easy to spot where the recruits are, livin’ it up in the large restaurant that takes up half the space of the ground floor. Most of them are pretty drunk, hoping to sleep off the hangover on the four-hour bus ride. You have absolutely no judgement, two years ago you were in the same position. 

Thankfully you don’t have to go far into the restaurant, as the hostess immediately knows Jessica’s order. While you wait for her to go into the kitchen and get it you drum your fingers against the counter, hoping no one notices you. It’s akin to when you’re a teacher in a mall, hoping none of your students gawk at you in the middle of Victoria’s Secret. 

“Ah, well Jungkook and I aren’t official yet—but very soon.” 

Your ears perk up at the sweet voice. Tzuyu is leaning across the open bar next to the counter, sipping on a mango mojito. She’s dumped the blazer for the night, showing off her soft skin and slender arms with a sleeveless cream blouse. 

“Then where is he?” another recruiter asks, gesturing to the expanse of the lobby. 

“He’s not much of a party person,” Tzuyu shrugs, tipping back her drink. 

You scoff, plastering on a smile to the hostess as you grab your bags and walk as fast as you can out of the lobby. You’ve never felt more like an old hag until now. Sure, most of the recruits are younger than you, but seeing Tzuyu talk so freely about her relationship with Jungkook has you in a bit of a spiral. The day of graduation, you told Jungkook not to wait for you. Heck, you’re only interested in the idea of what you could’ve had with Jungkook. 

These thoughts only cloud you further as you jab the elevator buttons all the way up to the suites where you and the Jungs reside. You relax a little when you see a strawberry cheesecake sitting prettily on the top of their order, your name written on the label with a little heart. Hanging their bag on the door handle of their room, you make your way back to your suite. 

You freeze when you see a floppy-haired Jungkook roaming the hallway, looking like a clueless child hobbling around in slippers and wide eyes at any sparkly item that decorates the area. It doesn’t even look like he tried attending the happy hour tonight, dressed in an impossibly big heather grey sweatsuit that swallows his form. 

“Are you lost?” you ask tentatively, as if you’re talking to a toddler lost at the mall. 

Jungkook relaxes considerably at the sound of your voice, and he replies, “Was tryna find your room since you didn’t reply to my texts.”

“So… you decided to check all the rooms?” 

“Yep,” he pops the p with a smack of his lips, “I figured the recruiters would be far away from the party so I started at the top. Thankfully I got to Jessica’s room first. Didn’t have to knock on too many doors. Only one old man got annoyed at me.” 

“You’re crazy,” you chuckle, slipping in your keycard to let Jungkook in. 

“Fuck, this room all to yourself?” 

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to kick his slides to a corner of the wall, flopping atop your bed and clutching your baby blue koala plush in his arms. The king sized bed is enough for his legs to stretch comfortably without falling off the edge, and he eagerly pads his feet against the soft fabric. 

It warms you to think that Jungkook is comfy enough to lay on your bed and hug your stuffed animals, a semblance of friends that you’ve missed for such a long time. Last year the team you worked for was great, you loved the people and even now you consider some of them friends. This year the team is a little smaller, and since your two other co-workers are sisters, it’s a little harder to nudge yourself in the direction of friendship. 

As soon as you sit down against the headboard, Jungkook’s eyes soften. Everything feels so different and the same. The threadbare pajamas that either of you haven’t had the heart to throw away since they’re so damn comfy, yet  your bodies are a little more worn and your eyes a little more droopier than usual. 

“So,” Jungkook bites his lip, not in the sexy way, but the nervous way, “about Tzuyu—”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to explain yourself,” you slump on your corner of the bed, regarding Jungkook with guilty eyes. “I really shouldn’t be feeling the way I’m feeling. It isn’t fair and I don’t want to jeopardize your internship.”

“And… what are you feeling?” 

“Dumb things.” 

“Your feelings aren’t dumb.”

“This time they are.”

“I’ve always shared my feelings, it’s unfair that you never want to share yours,” Jungkook sits up, criss-cross applesauce, pensive. “Maybe it’s my fault for not making you feel comfortable enough to share, but I feel like the reason why we never worked out was because we never tried hard enough to have a proper conversation.” 

How could you have missed all the indicators, all the good words, all the kindness Jungkook has given you that last semester? “You’re absolutely right,” you let your insecurities, your apprehensiveness, get in the way. You think in two years you’d do better to eradicate this kind of behavior, but lately you haven’t had many friends to express your feelings to. “Tell you what, I’ll work harder to express how I feel. No exchanges, no nothings. I owe you this.” 

“You owe me nothing,” Jungkook smiles, “I just think it would be nice to y’know, talk. As friends.” 

“Right, friends.”

“So, will you hear me out about Tzuyu?” 

“Let me open my cake,” you pull out your bag with the cheesecake, which thankfully has two spoons, “it seems like we’ll be having that kind of conversation.” 

Everyone is more amicable because of food. According to Jungkook, Tzuyu has a hardcore, ten-year plan for her twenties. After a couple of dates with Jungkook, Tzuyu whips him into the plan. Mentions that she’s well-bred and has a family reputation to uphold. Says IT Management is something completely desirable in a partner, that he’s sensible and wonderful and would like to be committed full-time. 

“And she talked to her parents about me and said that I’m a good prospect for marriage. Like I’m another pillar in her plan!” Jungkook cries, taking a monstrously sized bite of your cheesecake, wallowing away.

This is akin to sleepovers you’ve always wanted to have in high school, down to the food gorging. You can’t help but be fascinated, “So are you wrapped up in an engagement? Is this a scary rendition of Crazy Rich Asians?” 

“You just can’t turn a one-eighty like that on a fifth date,” Jungkook shakes his head, reeling at the emotional whiplash, “she’s really nice. Really organized, really perfect. It really intimidates me.”

“Is she what you reaaaally want?” you can’t help but ask, rolling your eyes at the excessive use of the word, and tamp down the pain in your stomach by eating a forkful of creamy cheesecake. 

“I don’t know!” Jungkook replies exasperatedly, “Obviously I’m worried since she wants to put a ring on it. I told her she needs to back off. Right after the seminar I said she had no right telling other people we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. She didn’t say much, just frowned and walked away.” 

You roll your eyes, scraping the leftover graham cracker crust from the edge of the plastic plate. “According to her, I heard you two are planning to make it official very soon.” 

His eyes widen, “I really bring girl trouble wherever I go, don’t I?” 

“Since I’ve known you,” you half-joke, putting away the plastic cutlery on the nightstand. 

You two sit in silence for a few moments, letting the television fill the room with mindless static about some sappy Hallmark movie. Tentatively, you land a hand on Jungkook’s knee. He looks down at your tiny fingers, giving his skin an experimental squeeze of comfort. 

“I don’t want her,” he finally says. 

“Okay,” you reply, “you won’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want to. I can arrange the groups this week so you don’t have to be around—”

“Give me one week,” his eyes flash to yours, dark and sharp.

“Jungkook. You have your determined face on,” it makes you sweat.  

“Because I’m determined to win you over, once and for all,” you eyes widen, and Jungkook visibly freezes, “was that too much? I’m kind of on an emotional high today. I didn’t expect to see you today and it kind of threw me into a loop. I thought I might be running into you once I started my internship but I didn’t think you’d be my recruiter. And then you went on that stage all bad-ass talking about work and you looked so gorgeous in your suit and I was so proud knowing you made it and IrealizedhowmuchImissedyou—” 

“Jungkook, slower,” you’re feeling a little woozy as well, equally overwhelmed. “You’re just saying this because you didn’t expect to see me—” 

“You’re deflecting, again.” 

“I’m scared, okay?” you blurt, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re right, this is all so sudden. So can’t we just start being friends and see if it takes us somewhere? You don’t have to win me over, just support me like I’ll support you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook moves up the bed, so he’s leaning against the headboard as well. His long legs stretch farther than yours, and it feels oddly domestic as you talk it out and stare at the television screen. “I’m just, worried I’m running out of time.” 

“I'm not going anywhere this time.” 

“I know,” Jungkook shakes his head, ridding himself of his torrid thoughts. Conceding, he gestures to the television, pulling out the remote under your pillow, “wanna watch television, or catch up?” 

You last about an hour until you knock out. However, Jungkook keeps you entertained up until that moment, as you exchange your lives and stresses. Everything meshes together, you’re not sure if it’s the charm that comes with late night talks, but you feel like you can talk to Jungkook about anything if given the time. You melt when he strokes your hair till the last minute, wishing you a goodnight and a promise of more. 

“Okay, I’ve gone over most of the work ethics in the manual,” you smile nervously when you see your glazed over recruits, nearly falling off their chairs. Even Krystal is bored out of her mind, discreetly playing with her phone in the back under her manual. Of course you’d get stuck with teaching the boring classes. “Any last minute questions before we head off for dinner?” 

Tzuyu shoots her hand up, “Are romantic relationships allowed in the workplace?” 

Jungkook promptly chokes on his water bottle. He looks up at you, panicked. Ignoring his terror, you paint on a thin smile towards the young woman, “Like I mentioned earlier, romantic relationships between employees are not frowned upon, so long as you’re not working under or over someone in the same department.” 

“Right, just wanted to make sure,” Tzuyu is all chipper smiles as she thanks you.  

If you were still twenty-one, you’d gag at the pointed look she sends Jungkook. They’re sitting diagonal from each other, and Jungkook makes a point to pretend to be interested in your lecture until the very end. 

You’re halfway done with recruitment week, and while you’re not shocked at how fast the week has gone by, you’re fairly disappointed that Jungkook and you haven’t had time to meet up in private. So far it’s been easy enough to keep your friendship (and past sexual relationship) a secret, but something dark and eager tells you how much you want more. The recruiters are eager to leave, all twenty-three of them grouping off and talking about what they want to eat for dinner. Everyone except a certain dark-haired fellow, who’s hair is currently bouncing off it’s styled coiff, wanting to return to it’s normal non-gelled self. 

“Kookie,” you raise a brow at the interaction, Tzuyu leaning over her chair to Jungkook’s, “wanna get dinner tonight?” 

Jungkook’s taking an excruciatingly long time to pack his things, raising a brow at her, “I’ve told you already, I don’t want to be involved in whatever plans you have.” 

“Oh-kay,” Tzuyu rocks back and forth on her oxford heels, pursing her magenta pink lips, “then why don’t we at least walk back to the hotel together? I really want to talk about some things that might change your mind.”

“Nothing will change my mind,” Jungkook’s determined face has been staying strong for the week, from the way he makes sure he’s first in your class to the simple “good morning” and “good night” texts you exchange. “Besides, I have a date tonight. And I really want to talk to the recruiters about a personal work matter, so can you please leave?”  

You try not to snort at how blatant Jungkook was being. You pretend to organize your folders, throwing whatever random notes you have in your bag for later. 

“A date,” she twitches,  “with who?” 

“Someone that doesn’t treat me like a stepping stone in her career path,” Jungkook deadpans, and that’s all it takes for Tzuyu to huff and walk away from the hall. 

You think Tzuyu is like a bug, relatively harmless, but someone who gets on your nerves. 

“A date, huh?” Krystal quotes, finally looking up from her phone. Her sharp, cat-eyes linger at the door, wondering if Tzuyu is going to pop out and try to drag Jungkook by the reins. Finally, she plants her stare between you and Jungkook. “So, you two fucking?” 

“Former fucking,” Jungkook supplies helpfully, and you jump off your podium to elbow him in the ribs, “ow—what?” 

“You just don’t tell Krystal we’re fucking!” 

“Former fucking,” he chastises, but the eyes he sends you are a little sultry, and you wonder if he’s thinking of fucking in the future. You reel yourself back, focusing on the third party.

But you anticipate that Krystal couldn’t care less, and you’re grateful for that. While a smaller work team means a smaller possibility of close work relationships, you do like the drama-free environment. “Like you said,” Krystal shrugs, slinging her briefcase over her shoulder, “romantic relationships in the workplace are not frowned upon.” 

You wring your hands between your bag when Krystal finally makes her getaway, and you look up at Jungkook. “So,” you smile wryly, “you have a date tonight, huh?” 

“With a pretty working woman,” he sighs dramatically, putting a hand over his chest, “that is, if she’ll have me.” 

“Consider yourself taken.”  

Jungkook and you sneak away to your suite once again. To your surprise, the suite is decorated in rose petals and a bottle of champagne sits in an ice bath on your bedside. A large pizza pie sits beautifully on your coffee table, and the television is playing lo-fi hip-hop. 

You feed Jungkook champagne-dipped strawberries as you gorge on the joy that is baked bread and cheese. 

And when he kisses you, it’s slow and sweet, like you have all the time in the world. 

It’s the last day of recruitment week, and all classes ended at noon so the interns can use all the resort’s amenities to the fullest. Many of the interns, including yourself, Jessica and Krystal, are on the rooftop celebrating a successful workweek. Staff and interns alike are buzzing around, eager to top off their weekend with some relaxation and sun. 

Jungkook is with his new team, conversing with other IT employees. You try not to stare too hard at your reignited flame, tipping back a cutely decorated glass of fruit. His arms ripple as he tips back the liquid. He’s wearing a tank top and you could swear his biceps have gotten meatier. Unfortunately you hold yourself back, after all the internship isn’t quite over and you still are a professional. 

At the end of the weekend you really have nothing to worry about, you know that. 

But Tzuyu? She irritating. 

“I just don’t understand,” Tzuyu suspects nothing of your budding relationship with Jungkook. You’re thankful for that because towards the end of the week, it was getting harder and harder to be subtle when you two send each other heart eyes from three meters away. 

Tzuyu sounds like she’s talking to herself, the way she stares into the infinity pool, despite the fact that her friends are surrounding her with rapt attention. You’re a cabana away from her, sipping languidly at your drink while Jessica and Krystal nap next to you. Even though you can’t see Tzuyu, you can practically feel her pout emanating through the fabric that separates you two. Despite the fact that she’s been offered a great intern position given her degree and experience, she’s still upset. For her, is that not the most important part of this whole week? 

“Jungkook’s really not that great if he’s going to turn me down like that,” Tzuyu seethes. You should write up her nonsense in a book and publish it, really. “Why waste time when he has the whole package right in front of him?” 

It’s then you realize why you’ve been so torn, so strung up and wound tight all these years. Just like college, all shy and hesitant to take a step forward while Jungkook was ten steps ahead, you were worried. You let other people’s thoughts stop you from making the leap, girls like Tzuyu that never meant to intimidate you, but you let their presence get up in your head and control the nonexistent hierarchy. 

But two years later, and that doesn’t matter. It never mattered. Jungkook is no longer the all-star lacrosse player, but what remains is his heart, full and willing. 

Everything Tzuyu just said was… wrong. Irrevocably, inexplicably messed up. But the idea of “wasting time” does strike a chord within you. Are you wasting time? At this point, your feelings of each other are pretty clear. What are you two waiting for, again? 

You thought Krystal was sleeping, considering her sunhat sitting atop her face, but once she hears you packing away your bag she whistles, “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

Sending a quick text to Jungkook, you make a beeline for your destination. You don’t even bother looking for him in the crowd. 

You: meet me by the elevator at the very end of the lobby. 

Not a minute passes by when Jungkook joins you at said elevator. He has two glasses of champagne in his hands, and offers one to you, “tired of the party?” he asks.  

You clink drinks, easily tipping yours back. “It’s not our thing,” you declare with a small smile. Jungkook's eyes soften, glancing back and forth between your face and the soft pleats of your marigold sundress. His hair is pushed back, sticky from sweat and chlorine, dark bangs hanging over the shaved sides of his head. You turn your head slightly as you wait for the elevator, biting your lip as you're sorely reminded of how sexy Jungkook looked at the dive pool half an hour ago. 

The elevator dings, and it’s wide enough for you to slip in at the same time. You put your champagne glass in the corner of the elevator for now, hoping you don’t accidentally step on it. In closed quarters, you can smell the slight tang of chlorine coming from Jungkook, combined with his own brand of musk. 

Jungkook looks younger tonight, happier. Having just finished graduate school and working towards a full-time gig, another chapter in his life has started. His hair is no longer in that tight-whipped coiff he struggled all week to maintain, loosened in its natural wave due to the pool water and heat. His cheeks are a little ruddied and plump, a sign he’s been enjoying the food this week. 

The door barely closes when you get it out, pulling at his hand to face you.

“Jungkook, I like you,” you blurt, and his eyes bug out considerably. Out of reflex, his hand sharply squeezes yours. “You don’t have to say anything, because you’ve been saying everything for the majority of our relationship. I really like you, I really liked you back then too. You’re still so sweet, and loving, and smart and I’ve just been too dumb and insecure to—” 

Jungkook seals your confession away with a desperate kiss, and you turn into a pile of mush at the contact. Relief seeps into your bones, sings into your system. When he pulls away, he looks serious. He doesn’t let you get far, and clutches your face between his two hands so you can’t turn your head. Your soft cheeks fill between his fingers, warm and cradled. 

“Never call yourself that,” Jungkook exhales, regarding you with firm eyes, “you’re beautiful, and intelligent, and the person I want.” 

“I don’t wanna take it slow anymore,” you mumble against his lips, leaning in so that you can barely nip at the pink skin. “Want you now, need you now.” 

“You have me now,” Jungkook agrees, and as soon as the elevator dings open to your floor, he scoops you up into his arms. 

By all means it’s not graceful, he’s clutching you like a baby with his hands over your butt as he jiggles you all the way to your front door. Clinging onto him like a koala, you press kisses to his cheeks as he leads you to your room. You laugh and giggle like teenagers, as he fumbles between your breast to grab the card key that’s nestled between your bra. It’s warm in his hand as he swipes it through the reader, pushing you inside. 

“Is it bad that I’m kinda turned on by the fact you got my key out of my boob?” you joke, although the contact of his rough fingers against your breast is a feeling well missed. 

“Is it bad that I’m always turned on when you lecture in seminars?” Jungkook retorts, kicking the door closed with his slipper-clad foot as he walks you to the bed. “Fuck, I can hear you talk about insurance benefits all day.” 

“Didn’t know my sex appeal extended that way—oh fuck—” 

Your vibrant marigold sundresses provides easy access to Jungkook as he throws you onto the mattress, your skirt billowing over your waist as he makes quick work to expose more of your skin. 

“No more talking, more loving,” he’s crazed, doesn’t hesitate to move your bikini bottoms to the side as he rubs lovingly at your long-lost bud, “need to fuck you, now. It’s been so fucking long.” 

“Kook,” his breath is warm against your already sopping cunt, and you lift your hand to run through the strands of his messy hair. It only takes one firm tug and you’re able to pull him up by the root of his hair, cranberry juice tinted lips with a faint sheen because he couldn’t help himself to have a little taste of you. “Baby, let me touch you. Let me show you how much I want you," you coo with a pout, hands trailing over the drawstrings of his trunks.

You can see how much Jungkook wants to say yes. His eyes glow with the possibility, bright and wanting in the afternoon sunlight. The image of him shoving his cock deep into your throat, so far that you can taste it in every crevice of your mouth. Your nails gripping into his ass as you go deeper, tears pricking your eyes as cum seeps out of your pretty lips. 

But he firmly shakes his head, fingers doing the devil’s work as he eases a digit in you. A little noise of protest bubbles in your throat, but it soon dies out as soon as he finds the right spot to reduce you to mush. 

“Next time,” he exhales against the juncture between your thigh and pelvis, picking up the pace and adding another finger, “if you touch me, I’ll cum right then n’there. This is enough for me, you’re enough.” 

So you let him have what he wants. You’ll make it up to him in the morning, and the day after, and the day after. You shed your clothes, the sundress extra forgiving as it slides off your body, revealing a swimsuit that hasn’t even touched the pool. You feel a little self-conscious as he drinks you in after so long, but he quickly shucks off his clothes to match your state of nakedness. 

You remember how you tiptoed around your first night with Jungkook, taking great care to make sure it was fleeting, how dark the room was as you let your pleasure take over your senses. Two years later and the sun is setting, gold bleeding through your sheets and illuminating the room. There's no need to hide.

“I must say, we’ve both kept it tight,” Jungkook teases with a wink, squeezing your hips so he can change positions. 

You silently agree, your fingers slipping across the washboard of his waist. 

“Mm, and still so fuckin’ cute,” Jungkook marvels as he pulls you up on his lap. Your whole body is flushed with want, one hand squeezing your breasts while the other plays with the curls of hair that lead to your sopping wetness. You glide your core over Jungkook’s stomach, sighing as you take note of the abs that clench under your heat and his hot member that rubs between your ass. 

It’s a tight fit when you finally sink down on him, but the burn only fuels your desire as he stretches you wide. His grip is helpful as he guides you through the motions. It’s been awhile since you’ve been this physical with someone, and it’s almost comical when you both sigh in contentment at the contact. 

“I’ve missed this,” you mumble, biting into his shoulder as he thrusts up. 

“Mm, it feels different, right?” Jungkook hums, keeping a slow pace. The drag is wonderful, and you know that he’s trying to prolong the moment. He reaches for your head, presses his forehead to yours as he speaks, “you’re mine now, right? For real.” 

“I’m all yours, Jungkook,” you press kisses everywhere. No need to hide anymore. You bleed love into every kiss, to his jawline, the little freckles across his chin, his lips. “This is romantic and all, but I really want you to dick me down. Which is why you need to go a little faster, you sap.” 

Jungkook scoffs, “A pillow princess is what you are.” 

He stops moving, and you two sink further into the mattress without its springs bringing you back up. The both of you are acutely aware of how wet you both are, your combined arousals seeping between your seams and dripping onto Jungkook’s thighs. But the young man simply relaxes against the headboard, baiting you. 

“Kook,” you whine, clenching against his member. Your hot walls have a mind of their own, unable to stifle their desire. Sweat lines Jungkook’s brow as he tries his hardest not to move, just simply be. 

“Tell me how much you want me, princess,” the pet name has you clenching harder, and you pout. 

“Baby,” you whine, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. There’s no one in the room, and you’re sure no one is on this floor because everyone’s on the rooftop, but the words you’re about to say are for Jungkook and Jungkook only, “please, I want you to pound me into this mattress until I can’t walk anymore. I want to cry out your name so everyone can hear I’m yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you nip at his lobe, and let your thumb nick at the simple silver rings that adorn his ear. You hear a click of his teeth, indicating the clench of his jaw as his muscles flex around your body, "I want you to fill me with your cum until I’m eating it, and—and—oh Kook!” 

Your words aren’t enough to distract you from his large dick sitting prettily between your folds, and you’re suddenly cumming, all by the mere thought of what’s to happen. You’re shuddering in his arms, and Jungkook soothes you by running his fingers over the spine of your back, distracting you from the utter mess you’re making on the sheets. 

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook coddles you, stroking your hair, “can my good girl take it?” 

“Y-yes, Kook,” you nod eagerly, fighting the overstimulation as he nudges you off his lap. You’re pliable, as Jungkook sets up the pillows for you to rest comfortably as you get on your elbows and knees, “your good girl.” 

You shudder as your bare pussy starts to feel cold, immediately missing the warmth Jungkook can provide. You can practically feel his hot gaze burning in your back, his large palm squeezing your ass as he marvels at how ready and eager you are for him. 

“It’s so easy to slip inside,” Jungkook rubs your nectar across the head of his cock, swirling around your engorged skin as he slips right inside. You both moan at the stretch, “Finally, my adorable baby, you like this? You like getting pounded like the dirty girl you really are?” 

“Mm, yes!” you squeal, clutching onto the feather down pillows for dear life as Jungkook displays his strength, one hand gripping your hips as the other weaves itself into your hair. It’s a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and the lewd sounds of each other’s juices and his balls against your ass echoing in the room. 

“Y-yeah,” despite his power, his thrusts are sloppy, and you know he’s almost at the edge, “and I like you, so so much. I want to make you cum everyday, make you happy and—mph—” he gives up on talking, focusing entirely on his destination. 

“Cum, baby,” you urge, melting when his one hand comes to thread with your own, “fill me up with you.” 

He flips you on your back, and you finally see how desperate Jungkook is to cum. His eyes are glassy, filled with emotion as he strokes himself to completion. Your hand reaches up to cup his damp face, and that’s when you feel him loosen. Hot, pearly strings cling to your pussy, decorating your skin in his essence. Your fingers immediately reach down to swirl the cum between your folds, and Jungkook groans at the picture, immediately throwing your hands to the side to kiss you senseless. 

There’s so much pouring between the two of you, affection, the feeling of being cherished, so much that you can feel the whole world reducing to the two of you. 

“All mine,” he whispers to himself, as if he still can’t believe it. And then, he puts up a poker face as he leans into you, resting his head gently on your breasts, “I knew I only needed a week.”

You narrow your eyes, flicking lightly at his forehead. You’re sticky, sweaty, and covered in cum and while you’re exhausted, the built in jacuzzi in your washroom looks very enticing right now. “Jungkook, this happened naturally. I said we would try as friends first and we did. We just so happened to escalate pretty fast.” 

“I don’t think it was that fast,” Jungkook nuzzles his face into your skin, “it’s been two years since college. Being popular did do a number on our relationship, but we caught up." 

“You were popular-ish,” you roll your eyes, teasing him. His face falls, and you can’t help yourself. Your hands reach over to cup his cheeks, and you happily squish the supple, pouty flesh. He’s adorable. “Kim Taehyung though? Park Jimin? Absolute heartthrobs I couldn’t stand to be near them—ah!” 

Jungkook seems to read your mind, lifting you bridal style to drag you over to the bathroom where the marble jacuzzi sits tauntingly. The stone is ice cold as he brings you both inside, immediately turning on the nozzles to fill it with steaming hot water. You find the tiny bottle of lavender suds, spilling the soap in an arc. His legs slip over yours, cradling you so that your back is pressed against Jungkook’s chest. 

“Being popular never mattered,” Jungkook shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “I realized the only person who I really needed to notice me was you.” 

bonus. 

You wake Jungkook up the next morning with your lips wrapped around his cock, fresh cherry balm rubbing down the thick veins until he's cumming down your throat. 

"Wow," Jungkook whistles, licking his lips at the sight of you sucking the arousal from your thumb. He huffs against the pillow, eyes darting to the open organza window, letting in the early morning light. The rooftop of a multi-star hotel, white Egyptian cotton seats, a full time job on the way and waking up in the most blissful way possible. 

"I have a proposal," you crawl on top of him like a koala, hooking your thighs between his blanket clad body. 

"I do," he replies instantly, looking straight at you with droopy puppy eyes.

"Not that kind," you slap his chest, "where are you living once orientation is over?" 

"Mm, there's a boarding house near a local translation. It's probably an hour commute? Not too bad." 

"So, I just leased a townhouse last month," you bite your lip, tucking your head between his neck to hide your embarrassment, "I was gonna rent out the spare room and put an advert in the paper but…"

"I do."

"I said it isn't a marriage proposal."

"Asking you to live with me is basically a marriage proposal."

"There will be no benefits," you sit up, wagging a finger in his face, "you'll be paying rent and half the utilities. And you will be doing all the laundry." 

"Sure," Jungkook replies loftily, squeezing your ass, "you're benefit enough." 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Derailed (Director’s Cut)

Elle Greenaway x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~1520

Warnings: Discussion of Spencer’s sex life, or lack thereof. Discussion of virginity as a social construct. Some suggestive dialogue, some snarky banter, and some sweetness to wash it down. It’s sexy, but also totally platonic, and it fades to black before anything actually happens.  

A/N: You cannot convince me that this isn’t how Spencer lost his v-card.  

For the “deleted scene” square on my @cmbingo​ card, written script-style and all. Picks up right where Derailed left off. 

(I almost named this Railed. Then I almost named it Deflowered. So many tempting puns.) 

[Around dusk. Hotch is driving an SUV. Morgan is in front, Elle and Spencer in back.]

Hotch: Elle, your interview has been rescheduled for tomorrow… and this time I’m driving you. 

Elle: I can live with that. 

Hotch: Local PD asked Gideon to consult on a case, and they wanted advice on media strategy, so he took JJ. The rest of us aren’t needed, so I got us checked into a motel. 

Morgan: Lemme get this straight. We have an actual night off… and we’re spending it in B.F.E., West Texas? 

Elle: They have bars in West Texas, right? 

Spencer: We just passed one. 

Elle: Then you won’t see me complaining. Drinks? Reid? 

Spencer: Are you buying?

Elle: Hell yes I am. C’mon, Morgan, you gonna come celebrate the fact that I didn’t die today? 

Morgan: When you put it that way, I don’t have much of a choice, do I? [They pull up in front of the motel and start piling out of the car.] Showers first, though. 

Elle: We can head out in like an hour. How about you, boss? 

Hotch: While I’m very glad nobody died, I am not passing up the opportunity to sleep for more than four consecutive hours. I don’t care what you do as long as I don’t get a call in the middle of the night. 

— 

[Inside a bar. Spencer and Elle are sitting at a high top, with a collection of empty glasses in front of them. Both of them are tipsy, not totally drunk but sort of giggly and loose-limbed. Spencer is using a penny to show Elle how he hid the microchip earlier. Nearby, the bartender is handing Morgan three fresh drinks, but he’s distracted, talking to a pretty woman, as he takes them.] 

[Morgan brings their drinks over to the table and sets two of them down.]

Morgan: So —

Elle: We lost you, huh? [To Spencer] Told you so. 

Morgan: How ‘bout you, pretty boy? She’s got friends. 

Elle: Oh, come on, you really gonna make me drink alone? 

Spencer: Yeah, no thanks. 

Morgan: Suit yourself. Don’t wait up. 

[Elle rolls her eyes as he walks away. Then she turns back to Spencer, who’s playing with the penny again.] 

Elle: You know I’m joking, right? I’m almost ready to head back to the motel, anyway. You should go have some fun. 

Spencer: I’m about ready to call it a night too. And honestly, that doesn’t really seem like fun for me.

[Elle watches him for a second, thinking.]

Elle: The flirting? Or the flirting with girls? 

Spencer: Hmm? 

Elle: I shouldn’t have assumed, sorry… are you even interested in women?” 

Spencer: Theoretically, yes? But more to the point, women are rarely interested in me. I’m not… like that. [He gestures at Morgan, who’s showing his new friend how to hold a pool cue, saying something in her ear as she giggles.]

Elle: It’s about confidence, Doc. Gotta be a little cocky. Not too cocky, but — 

Spencer: I don’t know how to be cocky. 

Elle: Like hell you don’t. Remember earlier? When I said you probably saved my life, and —

Spencer: — I said I totally saved your life. I remember. 

Elle: That. Cocky. It works for you.  

Spencer: I did save your life, though. That’s a statement of fact, objectively speaking. Of course I’m confident when it comes to stating a fact.

[Spencer flips the penny between his fingers a few times, then makes it disappear and pulls it out from behind her ear.] 

Elle: There’s something to get cocky about. You’re good with your hands, doctor.

[Spencer gets flustered and drops the penny, laughing at himself.] 

Spencer: That’s different. 

Elle: How so? 

Spencer: I’m not going to take a girl home and show her my magic tricks, for starters. [He finishes his drink hurriedly.] Are you ready to go? I’m ready to go. 

Elle: You’re not getting out of this that easily. 

[They both slide off their stools and pull on jackets. Elle looks around for Morgan, but he’s way too focused on the girl to notice them. Spencer makes a face. They head for the door and start walking down the block.] 

Elle: Look, objectively speaking? You’ve got cheekbones that could cut glass and you’re a goddamn genius. You know more than me about… well, almost everything, and as annoying as that can be — [She rolls her eyes and sighs, annoyed by her own sincerity.] — it’s impressive. Not to get all schmoopy about it, but… you’re pretty awesome, Doc. 

Spencer: I know I’m awesome. This isn’t about my self-esteem. 

Elle: So what’s the problem? 

Spencer: A random girl in a bar isn’t interested in my IQ. And anyway, it’s not… I know how to talk to girls. But I’m not about to take one home. 

Elle: Why not? 

[Spencer sighs heavily, looking exasperated.] 

Spencer: You want to know why I’m confident in my ability to make pennies disappear? 

Elle: I mean… not really, but I’m guessing you have a point. 

Spencer: It’s because I’ve been practicing my whole life. I’ve mastered the skill because I’ve had years to do so. 

[Realization slowly dawns on Elle’s face.] 

Elle: You’re a virgin, aren’t you? 

Spencer: Virginity is a social construct based on inherently patriarchal values of purity and the commodification of the female body. [Elle looks sideways at him, raising an eyebrow.] Yes, I’m a virgin. 

Elle: So, is it about romance? You want the first time to be special? [Spencer shrugs.] Hate to break it to you, but most first times are funny at best. The sooner you get it out of the way, the sooner it can be an embarrassing story for Morgan to laugh at. 

Spencer: Yeah. Great. That’s exactly what I want. 

Elle: No, really, what are you hung up on? [They’ve arrived back at the motel. Elle starts opening her door, but pauses.] You want to come in for a minute? Finish this conversation over another drink? 

[Spencer shrugs and follows her inside. She starts pouring drinks from the minibar while he continues.] 

Spencer: I guess part of the problem is the… learning curve. If I get to that point with someone I already have feelings for, that’s a lot of pressure, you know? But it would feel disingenuous to just pick up a random girl at a bar. 

[Elle hands him a glass and they sit down.]

Elle: Disingenuous? 

Spencer: False advertising. [He gives her a self-deprecating frog face.] That doesn’t seem fair to her. 

Elle: You’re telling me you don’t want to pick up a girl in a bar because you’re a perfectionist?

Spencer: Well… yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it. I don’t like being bad at things! 

[Elle laughs and then stares at her glass for a moment, rolling it between her hands thoughtfully.]

Elle: Which means you need someone who knows what to expect. Someone who’s okay with… the learning curve. 

Spencer: I mean, I know the theory, but — 

Elle: That’s something you can’t really learn from a book. 

Spencer: Unfortunately. I need some practical experience. 

Elle: You need someone you trust. [Spencer nods.] Somebody you’re comfortable with, but not so emotionally involved with that you feel like you need to impress them. 

Spencer: I guess. Yeah. 

[Elle raises her eyebrows and waits for him to get it. It takes a minute. His first instinct is to laugh, then he realizes she’s serious.]

Spencer: Really?  

Elle: Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. 

Spencer: But… why? 

Elle: You saved my life. Seems like the least I can do. I owe you one. 

Spencer: I didn’t do that because I expected something in return! You’re my teammate, and my friend, and — 

Elle: Because you know more than me about almost everything else in the world, and for once I’d like to be the one showing off. 

Spencer: That’s not — 

Elle: Haven’t you been listening? You’ve got cheekbones that could cut glass, and — objectively speaking — you’re pretty awesome. Besides, you’re my friend, and — [She hesitates, looking down at her glass, and the next part sounds almost painfully honest.] — my first time wasn’t great. It wasn’t with someone I trusted. And I guess if I can make sure it’s not like that for somebody else… 

Spencer: Oh. [He smiles slightly, looking touched.] You really mean it? 

[Elle rolls her eyes.]

Elle: One night only, no strings attached, and if you ever mention it to anyone on the team I will kill you in your sleep, but yeah. I mean it. 

Spencer: Not a word. 

[Elle drains her glass and straddles him matter-of-factly. He looks very overwhelmed.]

Spencer: Did you know — 

[Elle puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. He closes his mouth immediately, and she gives him an approving nod, teasing but also genuinely fond.]

Elle: You’re a fast learner, aren’t you? As long as you can follow directions and keep the statistics to yourself, I think we’re going to have some fun tonight. Now, shut up and kiss me. 

[Spencer smiles. Cut to black.]

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Smutty follow-up is now HERE! 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to be tagged in future Criminal Minds fic. 

[freckledoriya]

“rest and ice” (izuku midoriya x reader)

PAIRING: izuku midoriya x reader WARNINGS: none, just fluff! WORD COUNT: 1.9k

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | requests are OPEN!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my second fic for @bnhabookclub bingo (for the “taking walks” space)! see my bingo masterlist here. a big thanks to @gallickingun who came up with this idea. also, this is the first time that i’m including a tag list, so i’m sorry ahead of time if you want to be removed, just message me! 

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” you groan, the hot afternoon sun beating down your neck as you continue climbing the hiking path ahead of you. “Who the hell suggested a hike as an agency team-building exercise?”’

Your co-worker Izuku Midoriya walks beside you, beginning to look more and more concerned about your physical well-being. He was kind enough to stay back with you as the rest of your team climbed at a steadier, faster pace.

He reaches into his yellow backpack and hands you a water bottle. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You gladly take the bottle and pour a little on the back of your neck. 

“I’m fine,” you huff. “We’re pro-heroes, I should be able to take a walk.” 

Midoriya tries not to turn red as he watches the water you poured slowly trickle down your heated skin. “I-It’s more than a walk, it’s a steep trail we’re going up! You should go easier on yourself.” 

This isn’t the first time today where you’re thankful your sunburnt skin is hiding the fact that you’re blushing. The first time is attributed to when you saw your long-term crush staying back to walk with you when you started falling behind everyone else during this hike.

You’ve had a “thing” for Izuku ever since the two of you were in high school together, but an even mix of anxiety paired with the pressures of school meant that your feelings were left unsaid. Years later, when you saw that he would be working at the same agency as you, your stomach did flips. Was this some kind of sign from the universe that you should shoot your shot? But, of course, that was over a year ago, and feelings were still left unsaid. 

You consider this as you kick a rock ahead of you on the trail. If the universe really wanted the two of you together, would it hurt it to be a bit more forward with the signs? 

“Watch out!” Midoriya calls out to you, attempting to reach for your arm before you trip over a tree branch, hitting the soil hard. You attempt to stand up, but the pain in your ankle causes you to fall back over. 

“Are you okay?!” Izuku asks frantically, eyes scanning over your body looking for injuries. 

“Yeah,” you say as you sit up. “I think I just twisted my ankle wrong.”

“We should get help. I’ll call-”

“I’m fine,” you interrupt, coming off much sterner than you intended. You immediately feel regret as you see him wince at your words. “I mean, I think I just sprained it. It’ll be okay.” 

He glances at your swelling ankle. “Can you walk?”

You figure he’s just asking to be polite, pretending that he didn’t see you trying to get up and stumbling over yourself. Sighing, you look to the side, trying to avoid eye contact. Because how much more utterly embarrassing could this situation get? You’re a pro hero and yet you still found a way to fall and hurt yourself from tripping over a tree branch. And on top of all that, it was in front of your crush, the number one hero. Someone who has much better things to do than babysit you, a person who is obviously less adequate. 

Midoriya interrupts your self-deprecating internal monologue by gently grabbing your arm and putting it around his shoulders, helping lift you off the ground. The closeness of him makes you dizzy. The smell of his sweat and cologne has you forgetting where you are for a second; your mind choosing to focus on the way his scarred hands hold you steady. You could have broken your ankle in two and you’d still be on cloud nine right now.

“Let’s get you back to my car and I can drive you home,” Midoriya says as he begins walking, trying hard not to combust at the sensation of having you so close. 

Because of course he likes you back. Of course, he finds you utterly magnificent, someone who he can’t help but feel completely enamored by. Hell, he even made sure to recommend you for the agency he was assigned to after high school. You were a fantastic hero that was completely qualified to work there, but mostly he couldn’t fathom an existence without seeing you almost every day. Still, he was terrified of opening up about any of his true feelings and had begun to accept the current reality of your relationship. 

“Midoriya,” you say as you shake your head clear of the haze caused by his proximity. “If you drive me home, how am I suppose to get my car back?”

He immediately starts blushing, trying his best to keep his eyes focused on the trail ahead, and not getting lost in the glimmer of your eyes. “W-Well, I guess I’ll just have to come pick you up again tomorrow... once your ankle is all better.” 

You can’t help but smile as the butterflies in your stomach flutter at the mention of spending more time with him. Izuku walks you back to his car, carefully balancing your body weight onto his. He offers to carry you, but you insist on limping alongside him rather than being carried, mostly because the thought of you being pressed up against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around your body, it would all be too much to handle.

When you arrive back at your apartment, Midoriya springs into action.

“Make sure to keep it elevated,” he says as he helps you lie down on the couch. He grabs a pillow and carefully props your ankle up. “And rest and ice. Do you have ice in your freezer? If not I can run to the store and get some. I really don’t mind. Oh! And we should be compressing it too. Do you have a wrap or-”

“Midoriya!” you interrupt him before he can start muttering (even though you find it positively charming). “I have ice in the freezer and a first aid kit with some gauze in the kitchen, top shelf on the right.” 

He smiles and nods before quickly scurrying off to the kitchen to retrieve the supplies. As you lie on the couch you try your best not to show how elated you feel right now. Maybe it’s some kind of adrenaline running through your veins from the injury. Or maybe it’s the fact that your long-term crush is in your apartment and taking care of you. Probably the latter. Either way, you have to bite your lip to contain your desire to smile and squeal. 

Izuku returns with a bag filled with ice and a roll of compression tape. He kneels down before starting to expertly wrap your ankle. You can’t tell if it’s the bag of ice next to you or the way his calloused fingers gently run across your skin that gives you goosebumps. 

“Remember that time in high school, when we had to take that hero first aid course?” Midoriya asks, smiling.

“Yeah, weren’t we partners one day for that?” you reply, smiling back at the memory. Of course, you had remembered. It was CPR training, and you’ll never forget the feeling of being jealous of an inanimate medical dummy as Midoriya practiced giving breath to it. Imagining his lips brushing up against yours instead of a plastic and rubber manikin supplied you with daydreaming material for months. 

“Yeah!” he says, finishing up wrapping your ankle. “High school was tough, but sometimes I miss it…”

You sigh. “I know what you mean. Part of me is so thrilled to be out and done, but another part of me misses the simplicity of it. Y’know, when all I had to worry about was homework and crushes, not making rent.” 

Izuku lets out a small laugh with a knowing nod before suddenly looking over to you. “Wait… you had a crush? W-Who was it?”

Your heart drops when you realize what he’s asking. “Uh.. n-no one really.”

“Oh,” he says, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Let’s order dinner!” you blurt out, desperate to change the topic of conversation. 

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, it’s the least I can do to say thank you for helping me out today.”

Midoriya blushes. “It really was no bother. You would have done the same.”

“No way would you have tripped over a tree branch and hurt yourself, though,” you point out.

He laughs and shrugs. “You’d be surprised.” 

There’s a beat and you start to feel an odd sensation: the feeling of words traveling from your heart to your mouth, pushing to be said.

“Well, you do have a track record of surprising me.”

“I do?” he asks, adorably tilting his head to one side. 

You smile and start to pick nervously at your cuticles, feeling yourself begin to reveal emotions that you had concealed for years and years. 

“You’re quite the amazing man, Izuku Midoriya… every time I think you can’t get any more incredible, you prove me wrong. Not just as a hero, but as a person. I’m really amazed by you.”

Your words leave Izuku speechless, his face turning ten shades of red. You immediately start to feel dread, wishing you could take those words you said that are hanging in the air and shove them back down your throat. Midoriya must sense your regret, as he quickly waves his hands and starts stuttering. 

“T-Thank you so much! I mean, that really means a lot! I really like you too. Er, not that you told me you liked me or anything. I just mean that you’re a really amazing person too and I-”

You can’t help but feel elated as he mutters, seeing for the first time that your feelings of adoration might not be as unrequited as you once thought.  

You interrupt him by putting your hand on his and smile. “Let’s just have dinner.”

The two of you end up ordering from one of your favorite takeout restaurants. You stay up late reminiscing about high school over dinner, laughing at some memories, solemnly nodding at others. Neither one of you is ready for the night to be over when you finish dinner, electing instead to put on a cheesy hero movie you both can quote. 

The night ends with the two of you beginning to fall asleep on the couch with the movie still playing, your head resting on Izuku’s shoulder and his hand on top of yours.

“Midoriya,” you sleepily look up at him.

He cracks open his tired eyes and looks at you. When he notices how close he is to you he begins to move away, but you’re not having any of that. You grab his arm and pull him even closer, breathing in the scent of him. 

“Let’s take a walk on that hiking path again someday, okay? When my ankle is all better?”

Izuku smiles. “It’s a date.”  

TAG LIST: @gallickingun @prismaroyal @wesparklebitch @bnha-violetnote @sunflower-kami-boi @shoutosteakettle @strwbrry-lia @ee-blue @shoutodoki @sadistiks @knifeewifee @viceofaladriel @saltie @khemz1312 @frenchspeakingfilipina @tessaisalbright @katsumi-kaminari @pixxiesdust

[gooddame]

TAGGGEDDDDDD

Tagged by the celestial @misssophiachase

 1: Why did you choose your URL?

 I like all the good things in the world and would like to insert myself into being a part of that good on occasion.

I love the dames of film noir and how they embodied modern women of their time that were strong and vulnerable.

Anyone can be strong or pretend to be, but to show that there is a chink in our armor, that attracts me to people.

 2: Any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

 I do actually, it’s not exactly sfw and I should think everyone here knows about it because I advertised it from the get go.

 3: How long have you been on tumblr?

 2011, so for a longish time.

 4: Do you have a queue tag?

 Honestly didn’t know how to queue until like 3 years ago, it was too late in the game to admit I had no clue what that was but yes, sometimes. Just to drop in.

 5: Why did you start your blog in the first place?

 My sister made me do it. She signed me up and was like just look around. Found the Merlin tag and then stumbled into the vampire diaries because I’d read it in high school and so on.

 6: Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

 The photo of myself?  Vanity?

I don’t always like what I look like so if I can find a bearable photo I insert it like an update to what I look like that week.

It’s not fishing for compliments thing, just like my mutuals on here to see me after years of P&P icons.

It’s a being perceived thing.

 7: Why did you choose your header?

 I saw it on midsummer murders, I felt it appropriate because my anxiety only sees subtext and I’m learning to block that and only deal with problems when someone is being direct not passive aggressive.

8: What’s your post with the most notes?

 Um, not that I’m tracking but I think I got over a hundred notes once on a new years post about Klaroline a few years back.

 9: How many mutuals do you have?

 I dunno how to check that but probably less than 100 and some aren’t active anymore.

 10: How many followers do you have?

 1095 at last check.

 11: How many people do you follow?

 263 currently.

12: Have you ever made a shitpost?

 I dunno, probably everything I’ve ever written but that’s probably the self deprecation talking so shut her up and I’ll say noooo.

13: How often do you use tumblr each day?

 Its on all the time, notifications and messages, (not that I get any lol) but basically you know when I’m on, I just save my tagged games for when I turn on my laptop.

 14: Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

 Nope, I usually stand back and watch the bus pass. (lol see what I did there?) #dork

  15: How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

 I think it makes me (covers my face) petty and like “now I’m not gonna do it” even though it’s a cool post, or if it’s a help post I just go to the source and reblog there.

 16: Do you like tag games?

 Me? The overshare llama? I think they’re cool. (Bite’s fist) Tagging is the hard part.

 17: Do you like ask games?

 It’s super fun to either think of a response or just go and write the first thing that pops into my brain.

 18: Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

 I think I just got super lucky with my mutuals because even if they aren’t (they so are my rockstars) tumblr famous, they are wayyyy cooler than my little blog and I’m just happy to be involved.

 19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I do actually.

Tagging: @idiot--wind, @the-clary-rose, @riahchan, @denielapple, @beautyandwords, @iamcarito, @eternityofklaroline and @witchergeralt

[kello-unknown]

NEVER THOUGHT IT’D BE HER

Summary:  Max lives an... entertaining life.  She just got out of a relationship she thought would last forever.  Meeting one person leads to more people in her life, and before she knows it, she’s falling in love with someone she never expected to fall in love with.

Words:  1,567

Warnings: angst, drunkenness, some more angst, flashbacks, implied smut

Author’s Note:  lots to take in for this chapter... reminder that i link the previous chapters directly below the author’s notes, so if you’re behind you can just click the link thru here :D

CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2

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CHAPTER 3

FUCK.  Why?  This little meet-up at the café was going great until this whole memory just popped up back inside Max’s head.

               Flashbacks are never good, especially when they involve alcohol, and, oh, was heartbreak mentioned yet?

               She stumbled into the bar, already two bottles of beer downed.  Her thought process may not have been the best that night after what happened.  Already drunk?  Let’s go drink some more!  Yeah!  That’s a great idea!  Nothing bad can come from this!  It’s already been a shitty night! 

               Walking up to the bar, almost every pair of eyes were stuck on her.  She clearly wasn’t well.  Should someone go help her?  It’s already late, who cares?  If she got here alive she can probably get out alive.

               Once she finally got to the bar (it felt like it was a marathon from the door of the bar to where all the alcohol was [also known as a five second walk]), she ordered one beer and told the bartender to keep the tab open. It was going to be a long night of self-deprecating thoughts and being heartbroken.

               There it is again.  That word.  Heartbroken.  It sucks, having to experience it.  Heartbreak.  You wish your whole life you never will, but when you ultimately do, you don’t know what to do.  Heartbreak.  It’s not like there’s a right way to handle it.  Some heartbreaks are worse than others.  Especially when you thought the person who broke your heart was going to be The One.  You know, The One who would stay with you until you inevitably end up six feet down?  The One you dreamt of rocking on a chair together on a porch on a farm in the middle of nowhere?  The One who..

               Snapped out of her thoughts, which was probably for the best, she spills a little of her drink on her shirt as she’s nudged by a beautiful woman who accidentally bumped into her trying to sit down at the bar top.  “Oops!  Sorry I bumped into you!” the woman says.

               Max can’t help but stare.  That woman wasn’t even probably as beautiful as she thought she was in that moment.  Max is just super drunk and… and alcohol makes you think pretty people look even prettier, right?  Right.  Let’s go with that.

               “I-I-It’s okay,” she stutters out.  The woman just smiles back at her, then orders her drink from the bartender, essentially turning her back on Max.  That is, until Max offers to buy her a drink.  A truce, she says, because someone accidentally nudging you means you have to buy them a drink.  Sure, Max.  The woman politely declines, but Max insists, and slides the bartender a crisp twenty dollar bill that she didn’t even know she had.  The woman thanks her.  They both smile at each other, Max’s smile a little more crooked than the one in front of her.

               The woman introduces herself to Max.  “I’m Casey.  Nice to meet you.”  A moment passes.  “And thank you again for the drink.  You really didn’t have to.  If anything, I should be the one to buy you a drink,” and she laughs, awkwardly.  Max thinks it’s the most beautiful sound that she’s ever heard come out of anyone’s mouth.  And Max has heard a lot of sounds come from a lot of mouths.  Inappropriate sounds, but still.

               The two get to talking, and after approximately thirteen minutes (Max counts the minutes she’s allowed to talk to the goddess sitting right in front of her), Casey asks Max a question.  “What’s the deal?”  Max just looks at her, drunk and confused.  Casey laughs at her expression.  “Why are you here?  Alone?  Sitting at a bar with a look on your face that makes it look like you’re sad?”  She pauses.  “Are you sad?  Do I need to buy you a drink, Max?” she teases.

               Max takes a deep breath, but not before she says yes to another drink.  “Make sure you’re comfy in your seat.  Tonight… it’s a long story.”  For the very short time she’s known her, Max sees Casey put a serious face on.  Casey listens to every word her newly acquired drunken friend says within the next hour.

               Eight hours later, Max lays naked in her bed, arms wrapped around Casey’s also naked body.

               “How we met?  Oh, wow.  I think we just bumped into each other and one thing led to another.  And now here we are,” Max tells Alex.

               “Really?  That’s it?  That’s the whole story with you two?”  Max just nods.  “Bullshit.  I don’t believe that it was just happenstance.” Alex continues to push, but Max doesn’t budge, so, eventually, she lays off.

               It’s been more than two hours that they’ve first sat down at the café.  Alex checks her phone and realizes as much.  Max just laughs, saying that time flies when you’re having fun.  Alex glares at her playfully.  Max gets up to pay for everything they wound up eating and drinking for the time that they were there.  Alex tugs on her arm, pleading with Max to let her pay.

               “No way.  Today was my idea in the first place.  I basically dragged you out here, so the least I could do is pay for everything.”  Alex just pouts at her, still holding onto Max’s arm.  “I’m paying, Alex.  No exceptions.”  Max’s other arm, that isn’t being held onto for dear life, goes to grab Alex’s hand.  She looks at Alex with an eyebrow raised, and finally, Alex lets up.  “Make sure you have everything you brought before we leave,” she says, before she starts to walk away.

               Alex mocks salute.  “Yes, ma’am.”  Max looks back at her, seemingly warning her to behave.  Alex just giggles and grabs her phone and bag, then follows Max to the cashier.

               The two walk out of the restaurant after Max finished paying, but Alex feels bad that she has to ask a certain question.  “Hey, Max?”  Max looks down towards her, being the taller one of the two.  “This is gonna sound weird, but would you mind driving me back to my place?  I had to drop my car off for the yearly check-up this morning, and so I just took a cab here.  But if you can’t, don’t worry about it because I can just get a cab and go ho-.”  Max holds her hand up to stop Alex.

               “I will drive you home.  It’s absolutely fine, Alex.  I don’t have anything to do today either way, so take up as much of my time as you want.”  This time, it’s Max’s turn to wink.  Alex breathes a sigh of relief that she didn’t know she was holding. 

               They walk towards her car, and Max goes to open the passenger door for Alex.  Alex blushes lightly but gets into the car quickly enough that Max isn’t able to see.  As far as she knows.  Max speed walks to the opposite side of the car and gets in.  She goes to pull out of the parking spot but realizes she doesn’t know where she’s going to be driving.  She looks at Alex, dumbfounded.  Alex snickers, and tells her to make a right when she gets out of the parking lot.

               Once they get onto the main road, Max, after some arguing, allows Alex to play her music while she drives.  She watches out of the corner of her eye as her passenger sings as loud as she can without a care in the world.  Soon enough, a duet comes on that they both know, and they sing like there is no tomorrow.

               A half hour passes, and they arrive at Alex’s apartment.  She convinces her driver to come upstairs for one last drink and then, and only then, will she “release” her for the day.  Max follows Alex up a few floors to her place and, after some digging for keys, they both enter.  Alex gets Max a drink, then goes to look for her seemingly missing husband.

               As her friend is walking aimlessly around her own apartment, Max sees a phone light up on the countertop.  Well it’s not my phone.  Is it?  It wasn’t.  I just saw Alex check hers when she went into the bathroom, so it’s not hers.  After contemplating whether she should do it or not, Max walks over to the phone and sees a text message from… a no name?  It’s just a heart emoji. 

               Once Alex emerges from the bathroom, Devin strolls out of the bedroom, walking in the direction of Max holding the unclaimed phone.  “You found it!  I searched the whole fucking house for it!” when he realizes it’s his phone.  Max gives it to him, then Devin goes towards his wife and says his hellos.  Alex introduces Max to Devin and vice versa.

               As Devin updates his wife about whatever it is he’s talking about, Max gets to thinking about that text message.  She couldn’t see what it said since the phone wasn’t unlocked, but she knows Alex didn’t text him.  Sure, she was on her phone, but it was only to see if he had texted her.  Not the other way around.  She wouldn’t have texted her husband when they’re in the same building.  She would’ve just screamed for him like any couple would do to each other.  

               So, if it wasn’t Alex, who just texted Devin?

NEXT

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~

tags: @maggie-elise13, @elizabethfictionwriting, @lesbian-deadpool, @solaettristis, @the-very-tired-gay,  @timelords-13, @tangled-up-in-bad-decisions, @natashaswhitesuit, @its-a-me-mario-hihi, @marvelfansince08love

[imacrowcawcaw]

Blood Brothers (Sanny)

*Smut alert! Smut alert! Also blood drinking during the smut!*

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover - Rockfic, luluthechoosingcrow- AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow writing/art Tumblr, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner (Sanny)

Word Count: about 2500

Warnings/Tags: Vampire AU, blood drinking, gay pairing, smut (finger sucking, rim job, anal sex, masturbation), soulmates, cuddling, fluff, kinda angsty beginning, hurt/comfort, sweet ending

Summary: "He leaned forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of Sam's neck, smelling the coconut oil in his hair and the rich rush of life flowing just below his skin. Danny licked at his jugular, giving it a small, almost affectionate nip before grabbing Sam's arm that was around his back and bringing it forward."

Author's Notes:

Inspired by this post with @satans-helper 's tags and just her generally lovely self:) https://satans-helper.tumblr.com/post/188261333372/edyaleda-greta-van-fleet-by-lewis-vorn

Ahh I finished this hours ago but my phone died before I could post it and I was away from home :( But here it is! Hope everyone enjoys the smutty content lol

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

"What do you *mean* she got away?" Sam screeched, looking, just for a second, like a crazed, homicidal *creature*.

Danny shrugged helplessly, running a nervous hand down the front of his faded red jacket. The dried blood on his sleeve was barely noticeable on top of the fabric.

"I don't know! I mean, I was about to go through with it, but then she- she..." he paused, big eyes staring pleadingingly at Sam. "Her mom called her, and she asked for just a minute because she never, ever misses one of her mom's phone calls. And she sounded so happy, so full of life and love and I just couldn't take that from her."

Sam looked back into Danny's slightly wet eyes, and sighed. He wanted to be mad - they hadn't eaten in weeks - but he knew that he would have done the same thing in that moment. Jake was by far the best at getting food.

"We gotta get better at this, babe. You know we can't afford to keep letting them go, not when Joshie and Jake are gone. We have to be tough."

"But it's not right! You know I can't do that to someone! I'm trying to be strong but I'm just too weak. I can't do this, Sammy."

"You're not weak, love, you have a fiercly gentle soul. Nothing can change all the care and compassion you have for people. And I love that you're still so soft, it's one of the most beautiful things about you." In fact, Danny had gotten even gentler as the years passed.

Sam pulled Danny into a hug, mindful of not breaking anything. Just because they could heal ridiculously fast didn't mean he was going to hurt his brother on purpose.

"I just- I feel like I'm not fit to be this, to do this. I'm not ready, and I probably never will be. Wouldn't you want someone else?" Danny whispered into Sam's hair, holding onto him tightly like he was afraid Sam might actually banish him.

"You fit because you're *you*, I wouldn't want anyone else. *We* wouldn't want anyone else, Danny," Sam amended. It didn't matter what his conscious was telling him, Danny had been a part of their family from the very start, way before, even. "You're stuck with us forever now, whether you like it or not. "

Danny chuckled softly, but it was a melancholy laugh, not one of genuine amusement.

"But that means you guys are stuck with me, too. And I can't, can't *hunt*" he forced the word out of his throat like it physically pained him to say it.

"Alright, enough of this self deprecating bullshit. I love you, big man. I'm *in love* with you, which means that I love your quirks, look past your flaws, and accept you for as you are. You can't hunt? You know it's hard for me too, but between the twins and what I can manage to do we'll have plenty, you don't need to. I want you with us because you belong with us, not because of the survival advantages or whatever animal bullshit you're thinking this is. Stop it! I love you, we love you, and we want you here with us!"

It was rare for Sam to get angry, and even then it was often more out of frustration and failed communication than true malice. He didn't know how else to get it through Danny's hair-padded-head that he was as much a part of their family as anybody else.

"Alright, you sap, I get it!" Danny muttered, sounding a little lighter. Sam knew from the tone of his voice that he didn't entirely believe him, but it was a start.

"I *am* sorry I didn't get her, though. I'm really hungry."

Sam sighed and pulled back to look at Danny, arms still around his waist. He didn't want to make him feel worse, but Sam was also seriously needing nourishment. They might technically be starving, actually, and not just in the oh-my-gosh-im-soooo-hungry way.

"Well, I don't think we're gonna be able to get anymore tonight, but there is still..." Sam trailed off, raising a provocative brow and tilting his head so his long tresses swung back, revealing the tendons of his neck.

Danny frowned again. "Sam, you know I wouldn't ever harm you like tha-"

"You wouldn't be! We've talked about this, honey, I've even researched it. It's completely, one hundred percent safe. It's just a little comfort, okay? I know that it won't really satiate the hunger, but I want you, you want me, and it will make us feel good for a while, you know it will."

"But- but we... I... fuck, Sammy," Danny murmered, protests all but forgotten at the sight of his favorite treat: his Sammy.

He leaned forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of Sam's neck, smelling the coconut oil in his hair and the rich rush of life flowing just below his skin. Danny licked at his jugular, giving it a small, almost affectionate nip before grabbing Sam's arm that was around his back and bringing it forward.

Sam's breathing got heavier as Danny rolled up his sleeve, running his hands lovingly over the baby soft inside of his wrist. He could feel his blood pumping, at this point less in his body than there should be as a healthy creature of the night much less a regular mortal. Their diet the last few weeks had been sparse thanks to the two main hunters of their family being gone on what they referred to as a "business trip".

Danny looked up right as he was about to attach his mouth to Sam, eyes shy but laced with a burning hunger he couldn't disguise. It was so endearing how he always cared for Sam - looked out for him, checked with him to make sure everything was all right when no one else would - even as he was about to feast on his blood.

Sam smiled encouragingly at him, eyes heavy lidded and arousal starting to thrum throughout his lower half. They'd discovered that this, the act of sharing blood with eachother, could be incredibly erotic and intimate. Another reason Danny didn't like "hunting" for victims: it was only something he wanted to share with Sam. Even if he didn't let the other person drink from him or have sexual intercourse, it was just too much like cheating to his tastes.

The taste of the blood, however, was sweet. Danny tried to remember what his taste buds were like before; couldn't. Nowadays, everything else was rather bland and muted, everything except blood. It was thick and bitterly sweet, like dark chocolate melted into a bowl and stirred up with sugar.

He drank, knowing he couldn't take much and so savoring every drop that Sam offered him. Danny kept his mouth latched onto the bite, couldn't release to breathe even if he wanted to, lest anything dripped onto the floor. Wouldn't do to waste what they had so precious little of.

Sam made a noise in the back of his throat, a strangled moan of both pain and pleasure. Danny finally pulled back, first holding Sam's wrist above his mouth so that the few drops of blood that could escape before the wound healed could be caught.

Danny was panting heavily, having drunken for nearly a minute without so much as a second-long break. His puplis were beautifully dilated, hiding most of his hazel irises, and they looked at Sam with such a strong message of love and devotion it nearly made him sob.

Now Danny presented his own arm to Sam, running his fingers over Sam's soft, full lips. He felt Sam's mouth part, his sharp canines running over his own skin and nearly slicing open the tip of his thumb.

Sam carefully pricked and sliced each of Danny's fingers, laving his tongue up and down them to catch the blood. He sucked down the digits with hollowed cheeks and hooded eyes, a sparkling of something ethereal, carnal, deliciously sinful glowing from within him.

Danny kept their otherworldly eyes locked, groaned low for Sam to hear how he was effecting him. He carefully curled his fingers within Sam's mouth, running over his palate and tangling with his tongue. Sam sucked him in deeper, swallowing around him and letting Danny feel the convulsions.

Danny laid a hand on Sam's throat, right below his jaw, and the other cupping his cheek, feeling him work. He rubbed his knuckles against Sam's teeth, reslicing them now that the cuts had healed.

Sam kept licking and drinking and sucking and swallowing, enjoying Danny's uniquely rich flavor of blood. Maybe it was because they were mates - by blood, by soul, by heart and mind - that all others paled in comparison to each other.

Sam pulled off of Danny's hand, taking a step back and hurriedly shucking his dark, expensive clothes carelessly, not giving a damn about the ripping fabric from his desperation-boosted-already-superhuman strength. He started helping Danny remove his own clothing before he got with the program and quickly undressed, too.

Danny spun Sam around, pressing him up against the wall in the living room. He snarled when Sam ground his ass back onto his erection, gripping a skinny bicep in one hand and using the other to hold Sam's wrist to the wall. Danny used his body to flatten Sam until he couldn't move, biting lightly - not enough to break the skin, they *never* drank from the throat, despite what some might believe (they werent *killers*) - at the side of his neck where Sam had flipped his hair side.

Keeping the one hand on Sam's bicep and moving the other to push on his back and keep him still, Danny slowly kneeled down so that his face was level with Sam's ass. He bit into the left cheek, drinking the blood that spurred out, then moved on to even more delicious things.

Sam nearly screamed when Danny's mouth closed over his hole. His mouth let loose high pitched groans and a startled yelp when Danny actually went inside the ring with his tongue, forcing him open on the slick muscle.

Danny ate him until he was sloppy and begging for more, the position bringing out Sam's more submissive side. The fingers that were on his arm joined Danny's mouth in exploring Sam's ass, one gently circling and then sliding inside. He moved it in and out for a time alongside his tongue, then added another.

Danny's fingers worked in a V formation, his tongue flicking at the rim of Sam's hole in between them. As he added the third finger and really started to stretch, Danny pulled back so he could watch how Sam's ass clenched down on him. Sam was moaning and thrusting backwards, chasing the brushes of Danny's fingertips against his prostate.

"I'm ready! Please, baby, fuck me, I'm so ready for you."

Danny stood up, keeping his fingers inside of Sam. "You want it? Gonna take me in, love me, hold me? Want you to," he said into Sam's ear, pumping his fingers hard and fast, the weight of his body the only thing holding Sam up against the wall. "Wanna be inside you, fuck you til you scream my name. Fuck, Sammy, so pretty, so sexy. Love you so much."

Danny removed his fingers, and Sam whimpered at the loss as he was turned around again. Sam wrapped his arms around Danny's neck, bringing his heaving chest against Danny's broader one and drawing him into a kiss. They kissed pationately, lips sliding against each other.

Sam pulled away with a gasp, letting Danny hitch him upwards so he could wrap his legs around him. Danny used one hand to guide himself inside of Sam below their connected hip bones, slowly easing the head in as Sam threw his head back and groaned.

They set a slow pace at first, Sam gripping Danny's shoulders nearly tight enough to break the bone. He moaned with his head thrown back, long column of his throat inviting Danny to suck hickeys onto the expanse of skin.

"Fuck! Faster Danny, c'mon an' do me good, honey..."

Danny grunted and sped up in compliance, effortlessly holding Sam up with one arm so that his other could run through Sam's lustrous hair. He snapped his hips, angling down just a little so that his cock rubbed at Sam's prostate.

"Danny! Oh, my god! DaaAANNNNNYYYY!" Sam shrieked, the name of his lover being pounded put of him and drawn out into a scream of intense pleasure.

Sam circled the head of his dick with his fingers, letting it gain the friction he needed to come from their moving stomachs. He orgasmed with the most beautiful expression Danny had ever seen on his face.

Danny fucked him through it, pistoning his hips right against his sweet spot and letting the rhythmic clenching take him over the edge, too.

"Ugnnn, Sam..."

They stood there - or, Danny stood there with his hands on Sam's ass and his mate's skinny legs hanging limp on either side of his hips, foreheads together. Sam panted against Danny's mouth, coming down from his orgasm with a blissed out, satisfied look on his face.

"I love you," Danny said to him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

"I love you too, so much," Sam replied, rubbing their noses together in a feline kiss.

Sam sighed when he got down from his perch on Danny's canted hips. They kissed again, soft and sweet this time, licking at the dried blood smeared across each other's mouths.

"C'mon, come lay down with me."

Danny took Sam's hand, let him lead them down the hall towards the giant memory foam king in the room to the left. Jake said it was ironic that they nearly maxed out a credit card on nice mattresses and bedding when they didn't sleep, but that didn't stop him from enjoying his own. Sam reminded him that there were other things one can do in a bed besides sleep, and that he'd definitely heard Jakey 'use' his mattress in that way.

Danny curled around Sam, wrapping his long limbs around him and pulling up their weighted comforter.

"Hey, why were you wearing a suit? Planning on going out?"

"Planning on *taking* you out," Sam corrected, noting the slight hint of not-quite-jealousy-not-quite-curiosity in Danny's voice. "I was thinking we could go to that nice German restaurant we drove past on Tuesday, I've been craving that schnitzel from the pub in Frankenmuth Village."

"You know it won't taste like it used to, Sammy, even if it was made by Herr Michels."

Sam sighed, "Yeah, I know. But, I still wanna go somewhere nice with you. Show off my man."

Danny laughed softly, tightening his arm around Sam's abdomen.

"Okay, we can go in a little bit. I wanna hold you first, though."

Sam rolled over in his arms, giving Danny an affectionate look. He kissed him, then rested his head on Danny's shoulder. They lay there, basked in the glow of the rising moon, not able to sleep but enjoying each other's company.

They were as connected as connected could be. No longer could anyone say that they weren't brothers, weren't related. They were blood brothers, blood lovers, soulmates for eternity. Their family would continue on in it's love forever.

[callboxkat]

(Un)Broken - part 3

Author’s note: I’m back! It’ll be at least a week before you guys get another part, but have this one for now. :)

Warnings: self deprecation, headache mention, doctor mention, injury mention, food mention

Word count: 1579

Masterpost in the notes!

...

Patton walked into his apartment and quietly shut the door behind him. He slid the lock into place, then leaned back against the door with a soft sigh. He didn’t know why he was upset. He should be happy, shouldn’t he? He’d spent the evening bowling with his friends, after all.

He just kept remembering that moment, when he’d cheered about Logan knocking down those two pins—because Logan had been having a really hard time, and it was the first time they’d hung out together having fun like they had before his injury, and Patton had just been so excited to see him finally hit some pins! Logan, though, had clearly not been nearly as excited. Patton had seen how he rolled his eyes. Probably thinking that Patton was making fun of him. But Patton would never do that—Logan was one of his favorite people in the world!

Patton traipsed over to his sofa and threw himself onto it heavily, facedown on the cushions.

He knew that it was dumb. It was just one little thing, one little eye roll. It just hurt him to think that Logan might have thought poorly of him, even for a second.

He was distracted from his wallowing when his phone chimed its text tone at him. Patton reluctantly rolled partway over, just enough to grab his phone from his pocket and bring it up to his face.

Oh! It was Logan! Patton quickly swiped to open the message. It was a group text, sent out to all of them.

Logan: I greatly enjoyed our excursion to the bowling alley this afternoon. I hope that everyone else had as pleasant of a time as I did.

A second message popped up a minute later.

Logan: My apologies if I somehow lessened anyone’s enjoyment of the evening. I understand that especially while I am still in recovery, I am not the most ‘fun’ person to be around. Thank you for inviting me along.

Patton started furiously typing, but a series of other messages were already flooding in from Joan, Virgil, and Roman, all telling Logan that they’d had fun too, and yelling at him for implying that he’d somehow made the evening any less fun. Patton sent off his own message anyway, and as soon as he did, the notification that Talyn was typing their own response came up. Good. Logan didn’t get to talk bad about himself! Not on their watch!

Several long minutes went by, and then Logan responded.

Logan: Perhaps I misread the situation. Thank you for your assurances. It will not be necessary to ‘march over to my house’, ‘physically fite’ me, or hug me so tight that you ‘wring out the nerdiness’

Logan: Additionally, Virgil, I feel the need to remind you that Patton may decide to physically fight you if you continue to insist that gloominess is your area of expertise.

Patton paused, then scrolled up. He must have missed that message in the barrage of notifications. He found it—Virgil didn’t get to be self-deprecating either!—then scrolled back down to reply.

Patton: I will! I’ll fite both of you if I have to!!!

Virgil: Ok Pat chill, no fighting necessary

Patton: Good!

Roman: We should go bowling again. You all only got a glimpse of my skills.

Roman: (Virgils dont interact)

Virgil’s and Logan’s replies came through simultaneously.

Logan: I do think I would enjoy another such outing.

Virgil: You can’t stop me

The chat devolved into banter after that, mostly between Virgil and Roman. Patton just read the messages as they came through, not replying, until the others had to leave.

…

Monday rolled around all too quickly for Patton’s taste. He didn’t particularly want to get up early today, to go to class—one of them was math, after all—but he supposed there were bright sides. He did also have an art class today, and he would get to see his friends at lunch! He just preferred Tuesdays and Thursdays to the other three days of the school week because he had his actual classes with his friends.

Patton struggled through his morning class, which felt like it was moving at a glacial pace. He felt like he’d been there for so long. But finally, the bell rang; and with immense relief, he traipsed down to the cafeteria to meet his friends.

“I don’t blame you,” Roman said when Patton had finished sharing today’s math class woes. They and Virgil were sitting together, eating lunch in the cafeteria. “When are you ever going to need to know how to calculate a third derivative?”

“Exactly,” Patton sighed, putting his head down on the cafeteria table. “But it’s required, for my major….”

“You—you could always ask Logan for help,” Virgil suggested after a moment. “He’s pretty good at math.”

“Uh, yeah, I sure hope he is,” Roman said, his tone of voice mimicking that of a certain well-known six-second-video. “He’s a math major.”

Patton shook his head, but he did so without lifting it off the table, so it was more like he just rolled it morosely from side to side. “I don’t wanna bother him. He’s still got his concussion thingy to deal with.”

“C’mon, Pat, it couldn’t hurt to ask,” Roman said. “Besides, he could do derivatives in his sleep. Concussion or not.”

Patton just let out a soft, extended whine. If he hadn’t still had his head down on the wooden table, he would have seen Virgil and Roman glance at each other.

He felt a gentle poke on the top of his head. “What’s up?” Virgil asked.

“He’s gonna think I’m dumb,” Patton mumbled.

“Why would he think that?” Roman sounded genuinely confused. Patton could hear Virgil’s chair creaking as he shifted.

“Because he already does,” he heard himself whine. He knew he should just stop talking, but… whoops.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Virgil argued.

At the same time, Roman said, “That’s preposterous!” He normally had a habit of pronouncing it like ‘perpostrous’, which annoyed Logan to no end. He was pretty sure Roman did it on purpose at this point, evidenced by the fact that he said it correctly this time, when Logan wasn’t there.

“Logan knows you’re not dumb,” Virgil continued. “And it’s not like he hasn’t helped you before. What’s up?”

Patton sighed, gathered his willpower, and lifted his head from the table, sitting up. “I… I guess you’re right,” he sighed. He forced his features into a meek smile. “Sorry, kiddos. I’m just tired.”

“That’s okay.” Roman said.

“I mean… I get it,” Virgil said quietly. “Logan’s got stuff to worry about already. But he’s getting better, isn’t he? He’s allowed to drive and use phones and everything again. And it’s—it’s like Ro said, the stuff you’re working on is easy for him. I’m not—I’m not saying it is easy,” he amended quickly, even though Patton hadn’t been offended. “Logan’s just….”

“A huge nerd?” Roman suggested.

“A huge nerd. In a good way. Not being like him doesn’t make someone dumb. And you—” he fixed Patton with such an intense stare that the sophomore actually shrank backwards a bit. “You. Are. Not. Dumb. Nobody thinks you are. Not me, not Roman, not Talyn or Joan… and Logan sure as heck doesn’t think you’re dumb either.”

“But….”

Virgil was clearly running out of steam (that still happened sometimes when he talked a lot, though he was getting better) so Roman jumped in.

“If we’re not allowed to talk bad about ourselves, neither are you.”

Patton looked at them both for a second. Virgil was chewing the corner of his bottom lip and Roman had half a piece of Crofter’s-covered toast forgotten in one hand, but both were looking at him intently.

“O-o-okay. You’re right. I just got a bit silly, I suppose. I don’t like not understanding things.”

“We know,” Roman said. “You could always get someone else to tutor you, but I’m sure Logan’ll help if you ask…. Where is he, anyway?” He frowned slightly, leaning away from the table to look around.

Patton searched the room for a moment too, then glanced at the Mickey Mouse watch on his wrist. Logan should definitely have been here by now, if he were coming.

Virgil briefly chewed his lip a bit more intensely than before, then stopped and opened his mouth. “He—could he be sick?”

Roman sighed. “Probably… I hope he’s okay. Logan never misses class.”

That was true. The first time any of them remembered Logan missing class had been when he’d gone to the hospital after his accident. Logan valued class attendance too highly, and he was religious about hygiene, so he rarely so much as caught a mild cold. Recently, though, things were different.

“Could be another doctor’s appointment,” Patton mused noncommittally.

“I thought he had one on Friday, though,” Virgil pointed out with a frown.

Roman shrugged. “He’s probably fine.” He set down the toast that he seemed to finally remember was in his hand. “I for one am just glad he’s taking care of himself.”

Virgil nodded in agreement. Patton took a sip from his drink and didn’t respond.

“Hey…uh, you’ve got an art class today, right?” Virgil asked, changing the subject.

Patton nodded, brightening. “I sure do!”

“What are you working on?”

Patton turned to grab a little sketchbook from his backpack and opened it up, showing Virgil a few sketches as he talked about his current project. He knew Virgil was trying to distract him. He let him do it.

...

Tag list: @patton-loves-coloring @starryfirefliesbloggo @purplesoul-at-hogwarts  @gaylotusthatexists @quoth-the-sparrow @awesomelissawho @amuthefunperson @faithfreedom @heck-im-lost @gayfandomsaremything @bunny222 @syndianites @astraastro @momolinia @captainswan618 @hamilin-manuel-miranda @goldenkiddos @afilhadehades-blog @virgeofselfdestruction @theresneverenoughfandoms @iris-sanders-athena @super-magical-wizard @rainbow-sides @thefallendog @fanficptsd @zodiac-awesome @lookitsthatquietgirl @nerd-in-space @pearls-of-patton @ab-artist @angered-turtle @im-so-infinitesimal @raygelkitty @dr-gloom @whats-going-on-kiddos @the-dumbster @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @fillyourteacup @kittiebrick @youtuberswithalex

[phandomsecretvalentines]

Tell Me Everything Will Be Alright

This is my fic (and my first phanfic wow) for the 2018 Phandom Secret Valentines, and my valentine is @citrouillephan!

I hope you enjoy!   -from your valentine, @realityfallsapart

tags: fluff, angst, 2009 AU

words: 4.7k

Summary: Dan Howell tends to get lost in his head and his thoughts have a habit of ruling him even when he doesn’t want them to. When he and his best friend finally have a chance at meeting, Dan starts to wonder if he is actually good enough for the amazing human being that is Phil Lester.

(ao3 link)

(Thank you so much to @moonbeamphan for reading this over and helping me! This wouldn’t be as good without you!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dan typed his answer and sent it by hitting enter before leaning back in his chair and letting out a shaky breath that seemed to rattle his insides. His laptop chirped quietly, announcing that Phil had replied to him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it right away. Finally, after a few moments, he flicked his eyes down to the white screen of the computer in his lap where Phil’s most recent message seemed to glare up at him.

  Phil :) (9:47 PM)

i know!

i can’t believe it either!

For a few moment, Dan could do nothing but stare at the screen; at the black words disrupting the artificial white light. It was the only thing that gave Dan any sort of illumination in his room; everything else was dark. He bit his lip and thought about the possible pros and cons of shutting his laptop and burying his head under his duvet to pretend that everything was fine because it was. It’s all fine.

Dan shook his head and reached his hands down to the keyboard. He wouldn't—couldn’t—do that to Phil. Phil deserved so much better than that. His numb fingers typed out a small sentence, only realizing that it had several typos until after he had sent it. He mentally kicked himself for it.

  Dan ^-^ (9:51 PM)

Me niether! it seems like thsi would n e v e r happen!

**neither, this

Jeez i can spell

Phil :) (9:51 PM)

idk dan are you sure you can def spell? those seem like some pretty beginner mistakes…

  Dan knew Phil was kidding. He knew that it was just Phil playing around with Dan like they normally did. Like they had been doing for months at this point. But in Dan’s heightened state of anxiety and stress, he couldn’t help but berate himself further. God, Phil must think of him as a kid now, he can’t even spell right!

Dan crashed back into his mattress, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid….” he muttered, hitting his forehead with his hand with every word.

Looking back on this moment, Dan would laugh and realize how utterly idiotic his anger with himself was coming from, but right now, in bed with the lights off and by himself, he couldn’t help but magnify the issue. He had been anxious and stressed without a pause this entire week.

He looked up at his ceiling, sighing in growing frustration towards himself, but it wasn’t just because of his inability to catch his typos. In fact, it had nothing to do with them. The typos had just tipped him right over the edge and all of his insecurities crashed over him like waves, his head nearly going under the tide.

To say he wasn’t good enough was an understatement. To say that Phil deserved a much better best friend than Dan was even more of one. Phil was older, more experienced, more mature, funny, smart, kind, and extremely compassionate. He had a great time making pretty successful and entertaining videos (at least in Dan’s opinion, and he would always fight anyone who said otherwise) on the side, on top of balancing life. Dan was younger, so much more less experienced with everything, he got overwhelmed with life and spent the majority of his time curled up under his covers surfing through the waves of his latest existential crisis or playing PC video games that he would forget about within the next 24 hours. He was purgatory in the form of a human and an incredibly underwhelming one at that.

He wasn’t sure how long exactly he laid there, stewing in his self-deprecation and wishing that he was better. Better in literally every aspect, maybe then he would finally be worth Phil’s time, if only a little bit. His computer chirped again, and then twice more minutes later in rapid succession, as if angry. Dan grasped for the thing, pulling it up to his chest, lacking the energy to sit back up.

  Phil :) (10:07 PM)

Dan you know im joking right?

Phil :) (10:16 PM)

Dan? you still there? i was joking i promise you can make all the typos you want

u didnt fall asleep did you?

  Dan couldn’t help the watery smile that turned the corners of his mouth up, albeit it being a small one. Phil had that effect on him even if Dan was falling apart on the inside. Just a little though, he was fine.

  Dan ^-^ (10:18 PM)

nooo im not sleeping

Phil :) (10:18 PM)

:(

Dan ^-^ (10:19 PM)

why the frowny face

Dan tried to keep the fear out of his thoughts but the talons of doubt had already settled around his heart. Was Phil mad that he didn’t answer right away? Would-

His laptop signaled the arrival of Phil’s reply, and Dan really didn’t know if he wanted to slam the lid of his computer shut or jump at the opportunity to find out if he had just ruined the best friendship he had ever had. Ever will. He went for the latter.

(Dan supposed he might be overreacting, but then again, when wasn’t he, it seemed?)

  Phil :) (10:20 PM)

did i insult your typing skills one too many times? is that why you disapeared?

*disappeared

Dan used the best coping mechanisms for dealing with his anxiety that he knew: humor and avoidance. Together, they were a formidable force and Dan had spent a large majority of his time perfecting their potency.

  Dan ^-^ (10:20 PM)

now look who’s making the typos

Phil :) (10:20 PM)

Dan.

  He gulped. Now he had done it. Fuck. He had to fix this.

Dan ignored the roar behind his ears that seemed to be screaming that he should just ignore this all, pray that things would magically fix themselves and change the topic. That was his fear talking. His self-abandonment. His anxiety. His everything. Phil was worth so much more. So Dan pushed it all away for just long enough to reply.

  Dan ^-^ (10:21 PM)

sorry, joke

no, thats not why i ran away

i was just thinking, thats all

Phil :) (10:21 PM)

were you doing it again

  Dan tried to pretend that he didn’t know what Phil was talking about and simultaneously cursed himself for telling Phil about his increasing habit for getting lost in his thoughts. He failed. He knew exactly what Phil was talking about.

Back, about three weeks ago in a later-than-normal conversation where all of their inhibitions seemed to dissipate, Dan had finally come clean about how sometimes thoughts got the best of him. He would crumble under them, get so completely and utterly lost in his head that he would sometimes stay there for hours on end, picking apart anything that his conscience decided to dig up. And it hindered Dan, made him hate himself just that much more, made him hate how easily his anxieties held him hostage, stuck. But he couldn’t do much about it, it seemed, for whenever he got lost in his head, he always forgot that he had to get out.

Dan gulped. He had to lie his way out of this. He knew that Phil didn’t like it when Dan got stuck. He could pull off nonchalance, right?

  Dan ^-^ (10:22 PM)

no

Phil :) (10:22 PM)

im not convinced

you were werent you

Dan ^-^ (10:23 PM)

does my word not count for anything lol

Phil :) (10:24 PM)

maybe if we were talking and i could see your face it’d count

Dan ^-^ (10:24 PM)

what’s my face got to do with anything?

Phil’s bubble appeared on the screen once, twice, three times, before he apparently decided on what he was going to say and sent it. The entire time Dan was a few words away from having a breakdown. His hands were shaking. His mind was racing faster than normal. Faster than it had in what seemed like a very long time.

  Phil :) (10:26 PM)

bc then i could tell if you were lying

tho rn i dont even need that

Dan ^-^ (10:26 PM)

are u seriously saying im lying

Phil :) (10:27 PM)

yeah

you did everything that you always do when you arent telling the truth

you joked

changed / focused the conversation onto smth else

and besides

ive gathered that you really dont like to talk about the things that bother you. you like to ignore them and stuff

Dan ^-^ (10:28 PM)

so how bout we not talk about them then

Phil :) (10:29 PM)

normally, maybe

but not with this

Dan ^-^ (10:29 PM)

and why not?

Phil :) (10:29 PM)

bc i dont like it when you beat yourself up in your head

Dan ^-^ (10:30 PM)

who said i was beating myself up in my head

Phil :) (10:30 PM)

… dan :/

youre avoiding again

Dan cursed himself. God, since when could Phil read him like a book?

  Dan ^-^ (10:32 PM)

fine. maybe i am

what are you gonna do about it philly?

Phil :) (10:32 PM)

daaaaannnnnn

you arent allowed to beat yourself up

no ones allowed to

especially you!

  Dan giggled, just a little. He couldn’t help it when Phil was being…well, Phil.

  Dan ^-^ (10:33 PM)

and why not? Hmm?

Phil :) (10:34 PM)

bc youre my favorite person silly

my favorite person cant be sad. its just the rules

Dan ^-^ (10:35 PM)

oh yeah? whose rules then, oh wise philip

Phil :) (10:35 PM)

ew dont call me philip my nan calls me that

and theyre my rules

my rules for my favorite person

Dan ^-^ (10:35 PM)

suuurrreee phil. sure its a rule

*philip

Phil’s cursor didn’t appear seconds after Dan had sent his message like usual. Insead, nothing appeared. Their good-natured banter had eased the storm raging inside of Dan and his thoughts and anxieties had died down a little, much more easier to bear with the distraction Phil was giving him, but with the sudden disappearance of his best friend, they came back full force. All of his doubts spilled into the front of his conscience. He shivered. It wasn’t from the cold.

Dan watched the little digital clock at the bottom of his laptop screen count the minutes falling away. One, two, three, four, five, god did what did he do-

  Phil :) (10:41 PM)

[multimedia image: click to load]

With his heart in his throat, Dan clicked, and a small window appeared, momentarily covering their chat from Dan’s view. It was hard to make out, the quality bad and the image itself grainy and dark, but it was of a piece of paper lying atop two legs clad in bright pyjamas that Dan could immediately connect to Phil and his eccentric personality. He could make out the tip of Phil’s finger at the top of the shot, too. Squinting, he looked at the paper itself, zooming in to make out the words penned in Phil’s handwriting.

  Rules:

1. Dan Howell is my favorite person

2. No one is allowed to make fun of him

3. ESPECIALLY if that “no one” is Dan himself

Dan started to laugh. Only Phil would actually make a list of “rules”. Only Phil.

Before Dan could reply, Phil was typing again.

  Phil :) (10:43 PM)

there. proper rules written on proper paper. you have to follow them now

Dan ^-^ (10:44 PM)

i cant believe that you actually wrote rules you spork

but fine! i guess if i have to lol

Dan was still working heavily with avoiding the whole situation entirely, just like with what he was doing to the problem causing him so much stress to begin with, but he couldn’t help it. It’s just how he was.

  Phil :) (10:46 PM)

so you admit to your crimes xD

but anyways

you were stuck in your head again

which is okay, i mean, i understand that it’s something you cant help

Dan felt like he was going to cry. Phil’s assurance that Dan’s mind running in panicked circles was perfectly okay was almost too much. Phil’s compassion was almost too much.

But it appeared that Phil wasn’t done, because his laptop dinged quietly again.

  Phil :) (10:47 PM)

can i ask whats got you so sad and worried

so i can beat it up

obvs

  Now Dan really wanted to cry. How could he tell Phil that the reason was him? How could he say that the root of this ball of anxiety and stress and worrying that had taken over him was Phil himself?

He couldn’t do that to Phil, not when his best friend would undoubtedly take it hard. God, if Phil knew why Dan kept getting lost in himself, he would be crushed.

  Dan ^-^ (10:51 PM)

noooo

Phil :) (10:51 PM)

are you sure? i wont judge you dan, i swear it doesnt matter if you think i wont like it

i just wanna be here for you

If Dan wasn’t crying earlier, he was now, a few select tears dripping down his cheeks, brimming with the emotions that had been taking over him this past week. Phil was…too much. He was too kind, too sweet, too undeserving of someone like Dan. God, Phil deserved the whole world, he shouldn’t have to settle with Dan.

Another message appeared on Dan’s screen, as but this one didn’t seem like normal, it was a little off, a little rushed, a little…something. Dan couldn’t place it.

  Phil :) (10:53 PM)

bc youre my best friend.

obvs. xD

If Dan wasn’t so out of it and was able to think clearly, he might have questioned Phil’s “clarification” of why and what sense he wanted to be there for him, but Dan was not in the best state of mind and he thought nothing of it.

Dan looked at his screen again. He still had to acknowledge Phil’s question, and he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He wanted to tell Phil he already told him everything, have Phil reassure him and tell him that everything was going to be okay again, like he normally did. But Dan couldn’t. He couldn’t lie again, once was already once too many, and something told Dan that if he tried to ignore it or change the topic, Phil would just call him out again.

Fuck.

  Dan ^-^ (10:56 PM)

it doesnt matter

Phil :) (10:56 PM)

yes it does

its enough to make you get lost in that head of yours, so it matters

Dan ^-^ (10:57 PM)

phil we both know it doesnt take much for me to get lost in my thoughts

Phil :) (10:58 PM)

still

something is bothering you and i want to fix it

Dan bit his lip. God, Phil had no idea how badly he wanted to let him fix this. He couldn’t though. He just couldn’t.

  Dan ^-^ (10:58 PM)

nooo phil, you cant fix this one

Phil :) (10:58 PM)

>:(

you cant even let me try?

  Always, always, but just not with this. Dan couldn’t tell Phil this, not when it would hurt him.

  Dan ^-^ (11:00 PM)

no phil, not with this sorry :(

Phil :) (11:01 PM)

:((((

okay

i may not like it but i can respect that

will you tell me tomorrow?

Dan looked at the screen, thinking about it. Tomorrow was what he was worried about to begin with. Could he tell Phil tomorrow? He wasn’t sure. Well, it didn’t matter if things went good or not, Dan mused, tomorrow Dan’s fears would either be affirmed or destroyed.

He could only hope.

  Dan ^-^ (11:03 PM)

sure

tomorrow

Phil :) (11:03 PM)

yay!!!

  Dan laughed, breathily.

  Phil :) (11:03 PM)

oooh! look at the time!

its getting so late bear wow

guess we should get to sleep so we dont fall asleep on each other tomorrow huh? xD

  Dan’s heart physically melted at the use of Phil’s pet name for him. He only used it occasionally, but it never failed to make Dan’s heart stutter in his chest and the butterflies in his belly to flit around faster, making him feel almost giddy. Hopeful.

God he sounded so stupid right now. Anxious and stressed out of his mind yet still acting like a little kid with their first crush.

Stupid feelings.

  Dan ^-^ (11:05 PM)

yeah i guess we should!

night philly :)

Phil :) (11:05 PM)

goodnight dan!! :D

see you tomorrow!

(ps, idk whats bothering you and thats okay but i hope whatever it is it works out for you :“)  )

Ah yes. That’s what it boiled down to. Tomorrow morning Dan would board a train and take it up to Manchester to spend some time with Phil. The first time that they would see each other in real life, not just behind a computer screen. They had skyped before and texted and chatted for countless hours over countless days, but the thought of tomorrow still made Dan want to throw up.

He wasn’t good enough for Phil. He was just so terrified that tomorrow Phil would see that.

  Dan ^-^ (11:06 PM)

:)

  After hitting send Dan thrust the lid to his laptop down and pushed it off of his chest, letting it fall onto the bed. Dan felt sick again. He was so scared about tomorrow because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many flaws that Phil could discover about Dan and so many, so many, ways for what is supposed to be the best day of Dan’s life to turn out to be his worst.

God, he hated his anxiety for always picking things apart. Always fucking with Dan’s own head.

Dan rolled over and grabbed his duvet, pulling it up and wishing that it would just swallow him whole. Fuck. He couldn’t do it tomorrow. He couldn’t handle this stress.

Taking a deep breath, Dan clutched his duvet tighter in his grasp and tried to keep his lip from wobbling.

Right now he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to forget that he didn’t feel good enough, that yet again his insecurities were screwing him over, that he wanted to cry. He wanted to forget. Unfortunately for Dan the universe didn’t agree and he ended up staying awake for hours after the he had closed his laptop, the entire time doing nothing but thinking, getting lost in his head, and wishing that his thoughts would just turn off.

For once.

Please.

~~~~~~

Dan slung his bag over his shoulder. His fingers felt numb. Unlike his greatest hopes, the fitful-at-best night’s sleep did nothing to alleviate Dan’s terror. If anything, it had only magnified it because now it was today and Dan couldn’t run anymore.

He took a cab to the station, and he ended up being earlier than he needed to be, having about an extra ten minutes to wait for his train. He sat on a bench, his legs nothing but jelly at this point, his fears making it quite easy to foresee his long legs from just giving out on him. Dan didn’t want to make an embarrassment of himself on top of it all, so he tried to calm his racing heart while he sat.

With no luck.

Of course.

Dan looked down at the ticket in his hand. It would be so easy to not go. To walk right out of the station, spend the weekend at home instead of with Phil, and not risk Phil seeing how utterly underwhelming Dan was as a person. He could lie, could say that he ran late, missed his train, maybe his parents changed their minds and didn’t let Dan go.

But God, as Dan looked down at the paper in his trembling hand, he couldn’t help but know that he wouldn’t be able to actually go through with not leaving. He wouldn’t be able to lie to Phil, not about something this big—who was he kidding, he had a hard enough time lying to Phil last night over something so small!

But more than that, Dan knew that it was much more than not being able to lie to Phil. He had wanted to meet Phil ever since he had started to watch his videos, and the sentiment had only increased tenfold with their fast friendship. Phil was now much more than a hero, much more than a few minutes of distraction. He was Phil, Dan’s AmazingPhil, and he was his best friend. That lanky black-haired boy was worth so so much in Dan’s eyes, and he couldn’t, couldn’t, leave him in the dust like that. God it wouldn’t just kill Phil, but it would kill Dan too. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Dan had been thinking too hard. Before he knew it the train was pulling into the station and Dan gulped, raising on still-shaky legs and gripping the strap of his bag so hard he didn’t even have to look to know that his knuckles were blotched white.

As Dan took his seat, a new resolve washed over him. He would go. He would endure this train ride that undoubtedly would be the most anxiety-inducing thing he had done in a very long time—possibly ever—and he would do it for Phil. If Phil would reject him or not, he would try not to dwell on it on the coming trip (a losing battle, Dan knew), but he would still go.

For Phil.

~~~~~

Dan’s heart was going so fast he was sure that he was going to pass out. His hands, his arms, legs, his whole body was trembling.

Manchester’s Piccadilly Station.

Dan was here.

There was a decent amount of people on the station as far as Dan could see as the train pulled in, but none of them looked like his best friend.

The train came to a stop and Dan stood, the first to make it to the doors and there when they opened.

Strangely enough, when the doors pulled open and Dan took a step out into the station, he stopped trembling. His heart slowed—not by much, but it slowed—and this whole thing didn’t seem quite as scary. Sure, Dan’s thoughts were still screaming in his head, sure, his anxiety was still off the charts, and sure, his hands were still sweaty and his breath was still shallow but still. It was as if a calm had washed over him.

Dan wasn’t sure what to make of it. Maybe he was just going into shock.

People busied around him, walking this way and that, talking into cell phones, to other people, some silent. Dan, unsure of everything right now, followed where the general push of people were guiding him, the whole time craning his head, looking for his Phil. He tried not to panic. He tried.

But with every second the calm that had overtook him was shrinking and his anxiety steadily increased.

Did Phil forget? Did he stand me up? Oh God he’s not coming he didn’t come-

"Dan!”

Dan whirled around at the sound of his name, uttered by a voice that sounded so much better when it wasn’t distorted by their shitty computer’s speakers.

Before Dan could register really anything, he was being engulfed in a hug, two strong arms wrapping themselves around Dan’s shoulders, pulling him flush against the figure.

Against Phil.

And instantly all of the shouting in Dan’s head was gone. The slight tremble in his hands vanished, and for the first time in a week, his anxiety was gone without a trace. Dan felt like crying.

Dan gasped in surprise, his brain taking a moment to reboot because Phil didn’t forget, didn’t stand him up, didn’t change his mind, and suddenly Dan felt very, very stupid because how could he ever think that Phil would do something like that. This was Phil, the kindest person on the planet.

Phil pulled away, just a little, just enough so they could see each other’s faces, and Dan had to keep himself from pulling Phil back in.

His smile was so wide, easily the widest Dan had ever seen it. And his eyes, oh God those eyes were a thousand times clearer, a thousand times more mesmerizing than behind a screen. Dan didn’t doubt for a second that he could stand here and look into them for the rest of the day without tiring of their never-ending beauty. Fuck. Why did his eyes have to be so gorgeous.

Dan tore his eyes away from Phil’s and looked over the rest of him, from his broad shoulders that Dan wanted to wrap his arms around, to the tussle of his hair that Dan craved to run his fingers through and the line of his jaw that Dan felt the need to trace. Double fuck. Why did the entirety of Phil have to be gorgeous.

“Dan! I can’t believe you’re here! I have today all planned out; I’m going to show you everything!” Phil said excitedly, a twinkle as clear as day in his eyes. Phil was practically vibrating with excitement and it made a smile spread over Dan’s features. Phil’s happiness was contagious.

Phil stopped his rambling, looking down at Dan sheepishly.

“I mean, if that’s all okay with you. If you don’t want to do something that’s okay, I totally get it. We can do anything you want, I-”

Dan tilted his head back and laughed, laughed because Phil seemed nervous. Phil was nervous and it was adorable.

“Yeah, yeah Phil it’s all fine. All of it, don’t worry. I just can’t believe you want to do it all with me.”

Phil’s smile faded a little, and the twinkle in his eye got that much smaller. He looked a little sad.

“Was this what you were so worried about? That I wouldn’t like you?”

Dan bit his lip and looked down, giving a little nod.

Phil pulled Dan right back into a hug, but this time it felt even more real, and it was impossibly tighter. It felt like Phil was pulling all of Dan’s lost pieces together. Phil’s voice was in his ear.

“Of course I like you, Dan. You’re my best friend. I like you more than anyone else. Promise.”

Dan might have just felt like crying, in that moment. Phil accepted him. He wasn’t going to leave him. Things were okay. They were okay.

He knew that this would hit him later, maybe tonight when he had a chance to process things. He’d probably cry out of relief, but it would all be okay because Phil would be there to hold him together and ease all of Dan’s worries.

Soon enough they set off, hand in hand, and Dan was smiling so wide, so, so wide. He couldn’t have been happier with how things had turned out.

Dan looked sideways at Phil, trying to not be too obvious.

This had worked out so maybe, just maybe, something else could work out for him.

~~~~~

Dan stood at the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. It was early, and he could see the technicolor dream across the sky that was that morning’s sunrise. The steam from his coffee rose from the rim of the cup and slowly diffused into nothing; tendril-like hands wisped up and around Dan’s neck.

It had been nearly nine years.

Dan’s nervousness and dark thoughts never ceased to plague him, however, he learned to deal with it better. He could confidently say that he has never been happier.

It had been nearly nine years, and they were still inseparable. Their channels had grown exponentially, and they boasted an insanely large fan community.

As the years had gone by, their strong, unbreakable friendship slowly blossomed into something remarkably beautiful. Their long Skype calls turned into late night kisses, and they had been happily in love for nearly nine years.

Dan twisted the ring on his third finger. As well as being happily in love, they were also engaged to be married within the next year. Lately, he’d been waking up in complete disbelief.

The thing Dan had wanted so desperately to work out for him did, and in the most perfectly perfect way possible.

[sunflowerhanamaru]

Once you wake up, it'll be a new morning (4/7: pictures)

She should have understand, of course, when Chika had squeezed her so hard before boarding the plane to visit her parents. Riko had laughed, had said something like ‘we’re seeing each other in a week, you big baby.’ and Chika had choked off a laugh, had said ‘I can’t wait to go back to you.’ and had boarded the plane.

Riko had been barely out of the airport, walking to her car when her phone had rung with a call from Ruby.

“Riko! Is Chika with you?”

“No.” had said Riko. “She’s on her plane now. Is there a problem?”

“Don't…” Riko had only noticed how distressed Ruby sounded. “Don’t go home. Don’t check the Internet. Come straight to Maru’s and I flat, okay?”

“Okay.” She had said.

She hadn’t listened. She had sat behind the steering wheel and had opened twitter to find hundreds of notifications, all about Chika leaving Aqours. She had started the car, brain blank and had drove straight to her flat, the one Chika and her had spent weeks hunting for, to find an envelope on the table. She had opened it, her head swimming with thoughts.

The message is short, concise. Chika couldn’t keep going like that, she had to quit them. To quit her.

Riko’s phone is ringing urgently on the floor. Riko doesn’t pick it up. She doesn’t think she will ever be able to.

Riko had always loved fall. From an artistic point of view, because fall is the perfect season for vibrant palettes and warm colors, but also for the large sweater season, for the morning’s biting cold. Fall had been pretty in Germany but everything seems prettier in Japan since Riko came back; she’s glad she agreed to a walk in a park with Hanamaru and Ruby to admire it.

After so many anonymous years she isn’t used anymore to being recognised in the street, though, and she soon begs her friends to retreat in a teahouse.

“I don’t know how you manage with all those people watching you.”

Hanamaru shrugs, her hands draped around her mug. “It’s not so bad anymore in Numazu, we can’t really complain.”

“You do though.” Says Ruby, eyes glittering. “Hanamaru complains so much lately, she’s becoming a real old library lady. Sometimes she tells the cats to quiet down at home after a day of work.” She laughs, and Hanamaru rolls her eyes with a smile. “But seriously we’re never bothered by fans anymore.”

“Except the occasional weirdo who thinks he can flirt with Ruby.”

“Or the occasional book nerd who thinks he can flirt with Hanamaru.” Ruby is the one who rolls her eyes this time and Riko can’t help but notice how many of each other’s habits they have adopted. She wonders if Chika and her would be like that too if they never stopped dating. She forces herself not to think about it.

“The Internet is wild though.” Comments Hanamaru. “people are all over the place everytime we post something. Some people truly still don’t get that we’re dating. Like. They think we are… What’s the term again?”

“Maru’s still not good with social medias.” Jokes Ruby, earning an outraged ‘Hey!’ from her girlfriend. “‘best friends goal’ is the term. We live together, we hold hands, there’s literally sneaky pictures of us kissing floating around and some people think we aren’t dating.” She shrugs. “That’s twitter for you.”

Riko is still thinking about their conversation late at night and she stupidly decides to quickly search for her name on twitter.

The first tweet she comes across to is a text post tagged ‘chikariko’ She (stupidly, stupidly) clicks on it and finds a complete thread of pictures. On the first one, sixteen years old Riko is looking at Chika like she hung the stars up the sky. Riko’s heart aches.

Riko relives the four years of their Aqours’ life through pictures, from fansigns to live shows to candids. She sees herself growing up, and Chika growing up as well. The last picture of the thread is from a week ago: someone had saw them in the shop they had met in their day at the shrine. The Chika and Riko from the first picture changed so much, she thinks a little sadly, but the way she looks at Chika didn’t change though. Twenty-six years old Riko looks at Chika the same way she always did and she fears maybe she always will.

Riko clicks on the tweet’s poster username and waits for her account to load. She scrolls through personal discussions and random pics and stops when she reads Chika’s name. ‘Aqours’ Chika and You spotted hanging out.’ reads the tweet. The picture attached is a candid of her friends walking down the streets of Harajuku. Riko notices that You is wearing her new merch t-shirt. She opens the new thread.

‘Omg is that new merch? I need Dia’s shirt!’ Says the first reply.

‘Rings too?’ The second tweet contains zoomed in pictures of Chika and You’s hands.

‘You’s ring has a blue gem but Chika’s is pink??? My chikariko heart’ Riko scrolls back to the pictures and zooms until the gem, undeniably pink, takes almost all the screen. She hits the contact button and find Chika’s number, hopes she hasn’t changed in six years.

“Riko?” The phone didn’t even rang twice, notices Riko.

“Did they asked you to wear that?”

“To wear… Do you mean the ring?”

“Yes, Chika, I mean the ring, obviously.” It’s unfair to be so mad at Chika and Riko knows it but. It feels like Chika is mocking her, mimicking her old lovesick habits to sell some more show’s tickets.

“They didn’t.” Chika sounds rushed, and anxious, and sad maybe. “Riko, I swear they didn’t.”

“Why did you wore it then?” Asks Riko, and she hates how wavering his voice sounds.

“Because I miss you.”

“You said that already.”

“No, Riko. I miss you, you know? I miss you. I’ve been missing you for so long.” Riko closes her eyes. “I want to become friends again.” Chika is breathing a little harder in the phone. “I’m in front of your door. Could you open to me? I want to talk.” Riko looks at the door like she’s afraid it’s going to open spontaneously because Chika is on the other side. She remembers the time management booked nine rooms for nothing, the time where her door always opened for Chika. She shakes her head

“Not tonight. Tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” Chika’s laugh sounds self-deprecating and Riko hates it. “I’m gonna sit there for a while thought, if that’s okay.”

“Okay.” Riko stands to go sit against the door too despite herself. “I’ve missed you too.” She says, so quietly she’s not sure Chika heard it.

“We’re going to make it work, right?” Chika lets out a tiny sobs that makes Riko’s heart clench. “We weren’t only girlfriends. We were best friends, too. Tell me we can fix it.”

“We can fix it. I promise.” Says Riko. She wishes she was half as confident as she’s making it seem.

[szynkaaa]

IT’S HEADCANON TIME AGAIN. Part I can be found here

 (idk how many ppl acually ready and enjoy the long ass nonsense I post here but if ya want me to tag you in stuff like this shoot me a message or leave me a note?)

I have a very rough background story for my OC Cephy about how she and Ardyn met etc, but I’m still a bit hesitant with sharing because uh, I always go with the girl-from-our-world trope and that is not everyone’s cup of tea I think?

anyway headcanons are under cut :D

Cepheus is her name, named after the constellation and the Greek King. She hates the name, so she tells ppl to call her ‘just Cephy’. ofc Ardyn being the dick he is calls her either Cepheus or ‘Just Cephy, sometimes Miss Cepheus 

Okay first of all, I’m pretty sure that with the starscourge Ardyn is hosting inside his body, either Daemon will be super attracted too him, or they are scared shitless of him because the know not too fuck around with Ardyn. Basically I have this headcanon that one day Cephy found a wounded Tonberry and patched it up and the Tonberry behaves very unDaemon like and basically sorta became a loyal puppy to Cephy but it doesn’t like Ardyn because it’s very wary of that man. 

Tonberry’s cloak has the same pattern as Ardyn’s hoodie scarf thing

The mini Buster sword is my personal inside joke reference to FF7 because it’s my first FF game. 

I’m not really sure how to get around the no sunlight issue with Tonberry, so I guess he’d be hidden somewhere dark during the day? which makes him being a night owl like Cephy too lol. 

cue Tonberry  helping Cephy to make breakfast at midnight 

I don’t think that Ardyn is very much into the newest technology. While I can see everyone else using a smartphone, he’d be that person who carries around a brick phone only because the Emperor and other ppl want him to be at least reachable, but his phone is always on silent. 

followed up by Ardyn is such a lazy ass when it comes to paperwork. I’m pretty sure that as the Chancellor there’s tones of paperwork he has to do. He likes to handwrite everything but over the years his handwriting turned form elegant to super-sloppy-doctor-handwriting, but he refuses to use a computer to type things because he types. so. slow. 

doesn’t use phone calendar, has no watch, never checks his phone = always late and/or missing important meetings 

Ardyn doesn’t have a secretary because either they can’t handle his eccentric persona and quirkiness and is too much for the poor ladies. Most quit in three months time 

cue over the time they know each other Cephy became his unofficial secretary, always making sure he gets to appointments on time and books his hotel etc. 

always tried to come across as stern and strict when Ardyn is being a whiny ass bitch about not wanting to wake up early, Ardyn let’s her win because he thinks it’s hilarious how a 5′4″ woman in her early 20s tries to appear big. 

Cephy was asked to take the position as Ardyn’s official secretary, which would mean more work, and she’d actually have to follow him around on most business stuff. All Cephy did was laugh and then told Ardyn to ‘keep dreaming’.

still gets dragged on business trips and formal events and shit

really why even bother putting up a fight sometimes when you know Ardyn is just gonna give you that tight smile that says ‘are-you-really-going-to-defy-me?’

gets mistaken to be Ardyn’s 15 years old niece. Hates it.

Cephy to make self-deprecating and nihilistic jokes. When asked why she is like that, she says it’s because that’s what college does to people.

Contrary to popular belief, Ardyn does care (sometimes), and he is not sure whether he should find is amusing or be slightly concerned, because well he’s over 2000 years old so ofc he’d threw few dark jokes and here and there but Cephy is still so young????

Conversation overheard between Ardyn and Cephy: “If I’m a child that makes you a pedophile and I’ll be damned if I have to stand here and take this from a pervert!”

[kneekeyta]

So, idk I just wrote this quickly. It’s…melancholy..I guess, but with a hopeful ending. Also I didn’t want to make this super long so I left a lot of it up to your own imagination to fill in what happened, Its mentioned briefly and well, yeah. Some end notes also.

only tagging @mmfdfanfic cos I’m trash. lol. sorry xx

 maybe, one day you’ll call me

He’s tucked away in a corner, listening to the steady pattering of rain against the window he’s sat by. It’s dimly lit inside, mostly due to the gloominess outside. The small bulbs that hang from the ceiling over each table were of low wattage, and of course the one hovering above the table he picked, was flickering in and out. He would have laughed had he found the energy as it seemed so fitting.

Fitting that he too was trying to stay alit, to not burn out, but figured it was only a matter of time until he’d burned out completely. And even if he did, when he did, he knew that sooner or later he’d spark again, at least he had hoped.

Everything sort of paused for a moment, he no longer heard the rain, or the soft bustling about of tea cups and kettles boiling. It all sounded muffled and distant and like it was actually him that paused and everything else around him kept going, kept living, and, well, that’s how he knew she was here. She always had the effect on him.

When the chair in front of him scrapped back, everything sped up again, the rain was pounding harder and it seemed a wind kicked up some. There were distant murmurs from the other patrons, and then finally a small, distant, “Hi, Finn.” She was right in front of him but she couldn’t have sounded further away.

That’s when he always knew, they could be sitting next to each other, but it’d feel like she was a million miles away and he hated missing her while sitting right next to her.

“Alright?” he mustered up after a moment.

“Yeah, you?”

He shrugged, whilst studying his folded hands. There was still some dry blood on his thumb from when he was biting it earlier that morning. An awful nervous habit he was never quite able to kick, it was a wonder how he had any nails at all if he’s honest.

“Thanks for coming,” she mumbles.

If he were to look up he knows her eyes would be big, almost wild looking, yet, sad and shiny and well, that was one of many reason he refused to look at her.

He shrugs in response, because he doesn’t have much else to say to her. Doesn’t know what else to say, because he feels like he’s said it all too many times over and he’s exhausted. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, doesn’t want to plead anymore, he just wants to leave. Because she can’t give him what he wants, which is a better reason, a different reason, like, I don’t love you anymore, something, anything other than the one he’s heard over and over again.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to…to umm,” she trails off, and releases a long breath.

It has been a while, two months to be exact, and well, that’s the longest they’d ever gone without seeing each other since they’d gotten together, even from when they were just friends.

“Just..uh here,” she says.

He doesn’t look up but hears the small slide of a box across the table top and he know what it is. He’s desperate to reach out and push it back, it’s hers, he bought it for her. He doesn’t want it back, doesn’t need the reminder of it.

The silence draws on and he thinks about just getting up and leaving, if this was all she wanted, then it’s done and he can go. He did his part and he’d very just much like to go back home.

“Aren’t you going to take it?” she asks, almost impatient, yet desperate sounding.

He shakes his head.

“Can’t you talk to me? Or at least look at me?” she asks, there’s a tremble to her voice. It was always a weak spot for him. He hated to see her upset or worse be the cause of it, but it’s not his fault this time, he did all that he could, yet it wasn’t enough.

Swallowing the lump in his throat he says, “I don’t want it.”

“I can’t keep it, Finn.”

“Do what you want with it then, it’s yours.”

“Why won’t you look at me?” the desperation in her voice causes his fingers to twitch a little but he’s not going to budge, he refuses.

“Because,” he answers.

“Do you hate me that much?” her voice is so small yet he can hear the slight crackle, and knows she’s trying not to cry.

He wants to groan, to shout, to shake her and tell her No, I love you! I will always love you! But he can’t because no matter how many times he’s told her, has showed her, expressed in every possible way he could think of, it was still never enough. And it hurt that she never fully believed how much he loved her.

“No.” he settles on answering her.

“Then please look at me!” Her voice raises some, in desperation and he almost, almost looks up, but he knows better and resists.

“I’ve given you enough, Rae. I can’t give you anymore, or I’ll have nothing left.” He can feel the tears welling up, his eyes will start to burn soon if he’s not careful.

“What’d you mean?”

Even without looking at her he can tell the movements she’s making. Can tell that she slumped back, that she looks completely lost and confused by what he’s saying. In any other circumstance he would have found it adorable and would have kissed her and explained to her the plot of what she missed. She in turn would have elbowed him with a small blushing smile and murmured how he distracted her.

“Every time we fought and you left, you took a little more of my breaking heart with you. And I can’t, Rae, there’s not much of me left, and I just can’t give you another piece…I can’t give you what I still have.” He says, and is surprised he made it through the speech without his voice cracking, because it’s right on the edge.

“I’m sorry, I’m not stronger.”

He’s heard that sentence time and time again and well, it hurts him a little more each time. Because he knows she has trouble and has in the past and always will. He just thought they’d eventually get passed the stage of her wanting to break up with him because she thought she wasn’t good enough, yet here they are. So this time, when she broke it off, he didn’t stop her or plead with her until she would come home. He just…let her go, whilst he held on to a small sliver of hope. Stupid him.

He sighs, shaking his head slightly, “You need to find a new saying cos that one is getting old.”

Desperately he wants to look at her, but he doesn’t, “We both know you were always the stronger one, between us; out of all our friends even. I thought…I thought loving you was enough, but you need to learn to love yourself, Rae. And, I know, I know it so fucking hard, but you need to.”

“Was it so horrible being with me?” she asks carefully.

He shakes his head, “No. Never. Well, only when you were breaking up with me every other week.” he laughs humorlessly.

“As much as I love you and will always love you, I just…I don’t think it will ever be enough. Because I have feelings too, Rae, and every time you’d try to break up with me, and tell me to go off and fuck someone else, someone worth my time. It hurt because I felt like I wasn’t loving you correctly or that I had done something wrong.”

“You were and you didn’t. It was me. You didn’t…you never….” She rushed but trailed off.

“You were perfect,” she mumbled.

“There ain’t no such thing, but I did my best.”

“Is that…is that why you just let me go this time? Because you felt like you failed?”

“Part of it, but more than anything I wanted you for once, to be the one to fight for me, fight for us.”

“I want to be that person, too!” she says eagerly.

He nods, softly.

“I…I..um, I went to see someone… to talk to, again.” She murmurs.

“That’s good, Rae. Really good.”

There’s a long pause and he’s not sure what else she wants him to say, he feels like he’s said all he can.

“I don’t…I still…I love you, Finn.”

He takes a deep breath because he doesn’t want to cry, he sick of crying and he’s not even sure how his eye are still able to tear up.

“I love you, too.” He says.

He scoots his chair back and stands, when she says, “Can we ever be….anything, again?”

He’s unable to help the small smile that pulls to the right, he sighs, and picks up the small velvet box, he places in her upturned hand and says, “Maybe.”

He leaves pulling his hood up over his head once he’s outside, the rain simmered to a sprinkle and for the first time in a long time he feels like he can breathe a little easier. 

She had a little fight in her. 

---

four months later

He’s barely inside his flat and his phone is ringing, he groans because he wanted to just flop down and sleep forever, but he knows that it could be work and he should pick up.

“Hello..”’ he answers quickly.

“Finn..”

It’s Rae.

“Yeah…”

“So, I heard you like Reggae….”

--

The End.

Okay, so, yeah open ending. I mean, pretty positive I think.

--

Also, I just wanted to write something like this because, I’m a pretty self-deprecating person like 98% of the time and its super hard for me to accept compliments and positive emotions of all sorts from people. And often you’ll find that that’s why if you happen to send me a nice message and it takes a while for me to respond is because I get quite worked up over it, it just takes a while for me to process it and be accepting of things most days. BUT I’m working on it in therapy, learning to accept the ‘love’ I’m shown/given.

But back to why I wrote this I guess, it’s just because I know that these things aren’t just one way and that you can hurt people, especially the people you care about by not accepting these small praises. And that sometimes you have to love yourself enough to fight for what you want. and so yeah.

None of this probably makes sense. siiiiiiiiigh

ANYWAY I’m done rambling hahaha just ignore me!

I’m gonna go write something fluffy now! Byeeeeeeeee

[regrettablewritings]

So . . . I need to say some stuff

As anyone who knows me or has held certain kinds of conversations with me could tell you that I am the absolute worst at confrontation. Even if it’s in regards to something more positive. However, as this post is about something rather negative, it will be harder for me to express exactly what I mean without feeling like I’m coming off as an ungrateful or bitchy. However, as this is an apparent concern for many content creators on this site, I don’t think it’s fair to assume I am.

Please allow me to word-vomit an explanation:

Communication aka I’m a Talking Human Being:

Before I started this blog, I had a tendency to send headcanons and AUs to other blogs through anon. In fact, I still do this quite often, and usually to great effect both on the blog-runner’s part and their followers. One day, I got brave enough to submit a soulmate AU drabble set to a Tumblr user who is no longer on this site and a few people asked for more so, after speaking with said Tumblr user, I was encouraged to start Regrettablewritings. Now in my bio, I refer to this place as a “dumping ground” for my pieces. That isn’t just there out of self-deprecation: This was literally just meant to be a place where I put my stuff. All the ideas I had, the headcanons, the one-shots, etc. I never once indicated that this was a place that took requests.

But I should’ve known it’d happen and for that I will take responsibility for not suggesting otherwise. I was never truly set on the idea of doing requests at all because I’ve seen the stuff that people send in by the droves and there was no way I would be able to keep up or provide what was desired and at top quality. However, I feared that completely avoiding or turning down the ones that inevitably came in would result in issues. Blame my paranoia.

I’m still not entirely sure as to what to do with the requests I get. Some, I will admit, I do fulfill. But for the most part, I don’t always feel up to it. Especially considering that I have, by no exaggeration, nearly 20 ideas already stockpiled. Of these pieces, some have been in the works since I started this blog and I’m always trying to figure out which ones to focus on the most so I go, “Hey, I got this, this, and that. Which ones do you wanna see?” And you know what I always get? Nothing. Nobody says what they want from the list. So I sigh, delete the post after having it up for a week, and do whatever I can when the motivation hits me.

Not long after, however, I start getting entirely different requests. Always. I know it’s not intended, but the idea I can’t help but get is that my original content isn’t exactly what anyone is looking for no matter how much work I’m determined to put into it.

I reblog ask memes because maybe if I prove that I’m human behind the screen or showcase that “witty personality” my real life friends keep talking about, maybe it’ll prove that I’m approachable. If I’m lucky one person will message me and I have to stop myself from begging them to please ask more, lest I look desperate.

So then I figured if I reached out to the nearly 400 followers I currently have and tried to connect with them, then maybe there’d be more luck in the realm of communication. But when I tried Sleepover Saturday, only two people “showed up.” And they weren’t even the people who liked the post where I asked if anyone would do it, or the people who told me to go on ahead and do it. So that was the end of that.

For months, I’ve debating bringing up this issue. I didn’t want to look like a snooty bitch, but I also wanted to express how I felt about the situation. I may write to express myself, but I also write and in the way I do to entertain. In real life, I am very cynical and bitter and a bit of a crybaby with a bottled up temper. But the truth of the matter is, I love making people laugh and feel better. The world is already so full of shit; I just want to put a little goodness into somebody else’s day, even if it’s a weirdass fic about everyone’s favorite Cuban lawyer having a past as an adult dancer or whatever. So when it feels like I’m only needed when you want something, and then shelved until then, it doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel like the ideas I want to give you aren’t good enough. I know the notes may suggest otherwise, but we’re gonna put a pin in that for a quick second.

The feeling of discouragement often effects my willingness to write. I’ll still do it because, in truth, writing is one of the only things I can do reasonably well. But what’s the point in doing something well if you feel like you’re being taken for granted for it?

I ask you guys for your opinions and feelings on things because I genuinely need to know. I function by playing around with options. Any friend of mine, in real life or online, will tell you that if I’m working on a project (be it painting, fanfiction, or essay), I will throw my ideas out there or ask you for your thoughts on the matter. For fuck’s sake, I’ve heckled @xemopeachx and @ohbelieveyoume about cologne suggestions for one sentence in a piece I’ve been working on! That is how thorough I tend to be about the weirdest shit. But I also do it because I feel you guys deserve that kind of effort. I need a lot of things explained to me in depth to know how they work, so I make it an effort to use that as a means to help others see exactly what I do. I’m already hard to comprehend in real life. Please don’t let me think this effort is for nothing.

Summary: I work hard to give content but never hear anything back in terms of what you would like to see next. But when this happens, it’s like I’m posting from the void and nobody can see it. However, suddenly people are willing to fall into the void if only to make a request. I try to reach out and be more friendly, but even those are disregarded. I don’t know what to do.

Notes: Regarding Likes, Reblogs, and Messaging:

This is something that a lot of content creators talk about. If you’ve seen a post about always reblogging art, chances are you’ve seen a comment saying something like, “Same goes for fanfic writers.” This isn’t riding on coattails or anything, this is some real mess. And, on top of that, there’s an extended difference between art feedback and writing feedback. Because with artists, exposure for them can lead to commissions. Writers? We do this for free. However, this doesn’t make feedback any less deserving.

I’m not trying to complain here, but nobody writes 7-21 pages worth of content to get 100+ notes where only about 12 of them are reblogs. Now I, as well as many others, will give leeway: There is a definite stigma against people who read fanfiction and they may not want it on their blog. I get that. A lot of writers do. But when the reblog to total note ratio is 12/115, 14/192, and 13/207, things get . . . disheartening.

Because guys? Writing is HARD. I know you may see this statement all the time, but that's only because it's true: You have to remember all these words so you don't sound repetitive, you have to paint a clear enough picture without sound prose-y, you have to somehow translate exactly what the image in your head is and pray you don't lose people along the way, you have to SOMEHOW get from Point A to Point C when Point B is either exceedingly blurry or even nonexistent. And, perhaps the hardest of all, YOU HAVE TO BE MOTIVATED! It takes so much energy and focus just to write one page, especially if you have a hectic life going on beyond the screen. And guess what? A lot of, if not, all writers do!

For example: For the first two and a half months of running this blog, I wrote on my phone for most of the time because I didn't have a laptop and the only times I could use the computer lab in my dorm was when others were done with their work. (To gain a better idea of how vexing this can be, please note that A Practice in Happy Memories was written on my phone and that bitch is 6 pages in Word. Try doing that and see how tired of it you get.) And I’m one of the lucky ones: You’ve got people going through some rough stuff in their lives, people raising families while holding down a job, coming on this hell site to write and share their thoughts and ideas. I’m just some 22 year-old black chick with seasonal depression and increasingly crippling social anxiety and an aggressively negative view of the world!

Forgive me for sounding cocky, but I would like to think I deserve better than, like, 8 reblogs on a 60-noted something I literally tapped to life in-between homework and depression naps. Really, though, every writer who’s had to do this deserves better. The amount of talented writers who bust out quality content in spite of broken technology or, you know, having a life outside of the computer yet don’t get treated with utmost appreciation is unreal.

I’m not trying to shame people here, but if you can’t reblog, then reply. Or send a message. Even if it’s on anonymous. Trust me: You message a writer saying you love their crap, you will make their day and they will treasure that thing and look back on it when they feel like crap. For those of you that do reblog, please tag it. It literally only takes a few seconds. As @locke-writes put it in his own post about similar issues, writers really want/need to know what you thought. A like is equivalent to a quick nod and distant pat on the back. A reblog without a tag is a bit better, but still doesn’t get across exactly how you felt, what we did right, etc. A reblog with comments, even in the tags? Makes our fucking day!

Likes? They’re literally just the person who walks by your free sample booth, takes the sample, and doesn’t even acknowledge your existence.

I know I should feel grateful that I have as many notes as I do at all. However, a ridiculous amount tend to come from people who 1) don’t even follow me, and 2) they’re just likes. I have nearly 400 followers already and the same small handful only ever add into the notes. And even fewer actually comment or anything.

This is a common issue for a lot of writers: We just want to be seen as more than just story-making machines. We desire validation for the time and acknowledgement for the effort we put into something we feel we’re skilled at. But a lot of people may feel uncomfortable talking about it in fear of seeming ungrateful or anything but this feeling just drives them closer to wanting to quit writing altogether.

I’m not quitting Tumblr. At least, not anytime soon. But I still need you guys to know this because it’s been boiling up inside me and it’s driving me nuts. Anyway, I’m sorry if I came off as bitchy here as that wasn’t my intention. My intention was to give you a look into some part of the mind that a lot of writers have. Thanks for letting me get this off my chest.

Summary: Reblogs > Likes. Reblogs with comments and tags ∞ > Likes. And if you can’t reblog, reply or send a message. Your content creator worked to make that piece come to fruition and they deserve to know how they did. They’re not being paid for it despite the amount of time and energy they gave for it, so payment in the form of feedback is the least that they could be given.

In short: Appreciate your fanfic writers. Let them know what you think because every little compliment sticks with them.