#loving someone you cant have

[harrypotterandthefandomaccount]

everybody plays the fool

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

request: not requested, just based on personal experience & struggles rn lol

warnings: fluff, angst, loving someone else who is in a relationship, hurt, unrequited love? kinda?

note: recently experienced this with someone very important to me so super slay! some of these quotes are exactly what he said, which is kinda funny to use them in a fic. anyway, enjoy your early christmas present since i havent posted in 9 months!!!

remus lupin was not a bad person by any means, no, but at the present moment, you wish he was so you had some kind of 'backup' for your hurt.

you and remus had been close for a number of years, your relationship flourishing once you joined the order. he was very protective and observant of you, ready to jump into action if you needed his help - but he was not overwhelming. he respected you, that much was clear, and if you needed him to care for you, he'd be there in a heartbeat.

his standing with romantic relationships was something that you were not always 100% clear on, and you never pushed him to clarify or share that part of his life with you. but members of the order had told you of past partners, and to your knowledge, he was single - and life was good. you felt comfortable being a bit more flirty with him and hanging around him more often than usual. remus never seemed to mind and was glad to have you around, and your heart fluttered like a golden snitch.

well, up until you found out he had a girlfriend.

when word had spread, you backed off immediately. flirting with him, making suggestive comments, and of the sorts was no longer your place, and while it stung, you respected it. ruining a relationship was not on your bucket list. but really, you shouldn't have worried too much about yourself.

remus had been showing you around grimmauld place, as sirius typically had old photos of their younger selves, and when you had discovered a bunch of old polaroids of the marauders, remus was quick to delve into his past at hogwarts. you ran your thumb over the photos, fondly looking at the group of boys.

you glanced up at remus, "i have to say, rem, this photo looks nothing like you," a soft laugh escaping your lips.

remus chuckled, "that was when i was young, y/n, full of hopes and dreams, handsome. you missed my prime."

you laughed along with him, but you sensed part of words held a bit of truth behind them, "i feel robbed of not being around during your prime, with the way you describe it."

remus shrugged, a sigh escaping him, "yes, well, that was when i used to be somewhat attractive and before all of this madness."

the words slipped before you could stop, "in a non-weird, platonic way, you're still attractive so don't let time control your happiness and contentment with your life, remus."

he blushed from your words, smiling lightly, "in a non-weird, platonic way, i kind of like that you said that."

you looked at one another, your lips mindlessly swiping over your lips. remus cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, i shouldn't have said that-"

you shook your head, "no, i overstepped - i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable..."

it was now remus's turn to shake his head, a soft smile on his face, "we both apologized, so i think we're even, darling. I'll see you at dinner."

after that first encounter, you decided to put some distance between you and lupin; you had figured it was the best option in avoiding any kind of awkward tension. and, for the most part, it worked. there were a few instances where you had to interact, but it was for the order and while things weren't necessarily awkward, it settled your mind.

soon enough, christmas had rolled around and yourself, along with the rest of the order and the kids, had decided to spend the holidays at grimmauld place. the house was bustling with such positive, happy energy and it was exactly what you needed.

remus and yourself were currently outside on the steps, sitting down as you people-watched. it was quite calming, had you not been a bit anxious considering it was your first time being alone with him in a while.

"so," remus started, "how have you been? i feel like we have not seen each other in a while."

you turned to him, smiling lightly, "good! currently doing a lot of raids for the ministry and sometimes that includes sleeping outside and just waiting. not ideal, but it's...life."

remus raised his eyebrows, "that's hell! you deserve better than that - do you have anywhere to sleep, like a tent?"

you shrugged, "sometimes we can conjure one, other times we decide to wait it out."

playing with his fingers, remus blew out a breath, "i'd say i would join you, but considering we spend enough time together here as it is, I'm not sure that it would be as fun."

you shook your head, "you said it yourself, we haven't seen each other in a while - it would be a blast having you there, if it weren't for the ministry." remus smiled at your reply.

soon enough, remus and you fell into a routine whenever you both were at grimmauld place: talking a stroll outside, sharing stories about your childhoods and memories that held importance, before heading back inside for the night.

you were incredibly thankful for grimmauld place. it had become a home, somewhere to rely on if you just needed some bustling of life, socialization, or love. tonight, an important quidditch playoff was on, and soon enough, the adults were becoming tipsy due to muggle alcohol.

you wouldn't have taken any action if remus's girlfriend was around, but she wasn't, so you took this opportunity to help the lycanthrope upstairs and into bed.

"remus lupin, you party animal," you chuckled, helping him discard of his shoes and vest. his face was a bit flushed as he laughed, "y/n, i-i don't want to-to be, but if i must."

with a snort, you shook off remus's vest, "even when drunk, you're still able to form coherent, intelligent sentences. here," you paused, placing some muggle ibuprofen and water on his bedside table, "take care of yourself for tomorrow morning."

remus gave a slightly-drunken smile, "thanks for taking care of me."

you folded up his vest, placing it on a chair in his bedroom, "of course, anything for the best guy around."

he groaned, "you don't have-have to say that, it's not true."

in your head, you sighed, 'oh merlin, please do not a self-pity drunk, remus.'

you sat down next to him on the bed, "rem, I'm not sure where that thought came from, but you are an amazing guy - you're the best. none of this negative self-talk, okay?"

remus laid back, eyes glossing over, "i'm sorry if i don't live up to that all the time, if i changed your perception of me."

you leaned over, grasping his hand, "remus, life isn't about keeping score or living up to expectations. it's about loving the way that you are living and as long as you are happy, that is the most important thing. be kinder to yourself, rem."

remus sighed, holding onto your hand a bit tighter, "ah, I'm just rambling...but y/n, i appreciate you, genuinely. i love you."

pang.

you gave a saddened smile, but hid it well enough that he didn't ask questions, "i love you too, remus."

remus then began giggling to himself, hiding his face between his hands. you laughed as well, unsure as to why, but he had brightened your gloomy feelings immediately. with a squeeze of his hand, you questioned remus, "what's got you so giggly, lupin?"

he laughed softly once more, "just-just thinking about the time i slept at the top of the astronomy tower."

your eyebrows raised high with surprise, "excuse me? when was this, and can we do it at some point?"

remus nodded his head excitedly, "of course, darling. it-it was a few years ago, yes, but quite fun! but, i should warn you - it gets veryyyy chilly up there." his eyes went wide, as though remembering the cold, and shivered. you tightened the blanket around him.

with a smile, you continued, "no worries, we'll bring our fair share of pillows and blankets, don't worry, rem."

remus looked over at you, his drunkenness slowly leaving his body, "can we share, y/n?"

as if you'd say no.

"of course, remus, whatever you'd like."

"hmm, no pillow wall."

you raised an eyebrow, "pillow wall? for what, rem?"

he hummed, "to separate us, but we don't need one...i like it when you call me that, rem."

your face flushed red, but hope he didn't notice as he continued, "i tend to get hot in the middle of the night."

'don't agitate the conversation, don't encourage it.'

"well, rem, unfortunately i'm the exact opposite and i get cold in the middle of the night."

remus softly chuckled, playing with your fingers, "oh, so you may need help to warm up? you know, you could always get warmer...there are certainly some ways."

shit.

you sighed, a sad smile on your face as you brushed remus's hair back, "get some sleep before you say something you might regret. goodnight, rem." and with that, you left the room in a hurry.

you cried that night, upset and angry at yourself for playing into his drunken flirting and suggestive tones. he clearly didn't know what he was saying, but you did, and took advantage of that. ugh, you hated how that made you feel. he had a girlfriend who he loved (you assume), and what you said and suggested...oh god, how were you two going to be friends?

remus awoke the next morning, aware of what he had said. if he was being honest, he knew what he said to you as he wasn't really that drunk. and he knew once you were aware of that fact, you'd be even more upset at him. getting out of bed, remus was met with the smell of tea, which wafted through the house until he saw you outside on the steps, knee bouncing nervously.

the lycanthrope met you outside and without looking behind you, you knew who it was. remus sat down beside you, tonks on his mind as he tried to formulate what he was going to say. nymphadora was his priority, his girlfriend, his love. but why did he do this to her, to you?

"how're you feeling this morning? any hangover symptoms?" you questioned, just trying to move past the awkwardness.

remus shrugged, "i feel fine, believe it or not. how are you?"

you bit your lip, "okay. didn't get much sleep, wasn't able to shut my brain off." or your tears.

remus glanced at you; you looked exhausted and with the fresh-looking bags under your eyes, he knew you cried. and with that knowledge, his heart panged.

you took in a shaky breath before whispering, "are we okay after last night? i-i couldn't sleep because of it."

remus sighed, nodding his head, "i couldn't either, darling."

you cringed, and he noticed.

remus continued, "it's not on you, y/n, it's on me, and i'm sorry. it was a shitty thing of me to do."

you looked down, your fingernails becoming the most interesting thing in the world, "I'm sorry, too. i shouldn't have continued the conversation. it's not all on you, rem."

remus looked towards you but your head remained down, "y/n...i-i think we both went with it but it got real at some point but i did that." he paused before continuing, "let me take responsibility."

you furrowed your eyebrows, meeting his eyes once you looked up, "remus, you were drunk, i fed into your drunken conversation-"

he interrupted you, "if we're being honest, i wasn't that drunk. let me be better, y/n, please."

your heart ached as it shattered into pieces, trying to mend itself back together. he wasn't that drunk when he said those things to you last night? you became increasingly confused, upset, angry, heartbroken. this man had worked his way into your heart, becoming not only a true friend, but someone you loved. and when a flirty conversation began taking a turn, he knew exactly what he was doing, saying.

but you couldn't have him, and the way this conversation is headed, you would never.

"i just want us to be okay," you whispered the half-truth, wishing you could say what you truly wanted from him. that you wanted him.

remus grasped your hand before letting go as he felt you tense, "you are not in the wrong at all, y/n. we are more than okay."

with a nod, you bit your lip once more, "just-just let me know if i overstep, okay?"

the lycanthrope looked over your face before turning towards the street, "i wanted you to overstep last night, y/n, so take that worry and throw it away. i truly wasn't that drunk, and what i said - what i did - was unfair and selfish, and i won't do it again."

you wanted to sob. he wanted you to overstep, to break his resolve concerning you and his current relationship. remus lupin may not have been entirely sober but he was aware of what he wanted, and he doesn't deny it. this was his way of moving on, of validating your feelings and hoping it wouldn't affect anything. he'd get past it, he had to. he loved nymphadora.

but you loved him. remus lupin gave you thousands of butterflies in your stomach to the point where it made you nauseous. you showed up to grimmauld place more often than you liked just for the off-chance of seeing remus. your autonomic body functions shut down and your palms became increasingly sweaty at the thought of him. you were enamored with remus lupin, but he was enamored with someone else who he didn't see as often as you.

you were the fool in the game of love. you were there as a convenience.

you wanted to tell him that you loved him, that thinking of him made you nauseous - but in a romantic way. you want to know what it is like to kiss him, to wake up next to him, to say "i love you" in a romantic sense.

before you realized it, tears began running down your cheeks. remus turned you towards him, wiping your tears. you felt as though you were going to be sick.

"i'm sorry i made you cry," he whispered, remorse and guilt heavy in his tone. he knew what you were feeling.

you shook your head, making remus move his hands as you wipied your tears, "ugh, no, emotions are just dumb."

remus sighed with a nod, "that they are, and they get us into trouble."

your mind was racing.

he continued, "but having and expressing them is the most important thing any of us can do. whether we are overstepping or not." more tears began to flow as remus finished, "that's why everyone loves you so much; emotions are your superpower. i love working alongside you, and knowing you, y/n. truly."

with a tear-ridden face, you turned to remus and gave him a sad smile, "thank you, remus." with a pause, wondering if you should say anything else, you continued, "I'll see you inside."

before he could say anything else, you went inside and up to your bedroom, the covers becoming your comfort and safe place for your tears.

you were utterly in love with remus lupin, but he was utterly in love with nymphadora tonks. and while you guessed that remus knew your feelings towards him, he had an obligation to her, history with her, and you'd never compare. you wanted to overstep, but doing so would be wrong. you knew that time would pass, that you'd get over remus lupin eventually, but at the moment, he owned your heart while he loved someone else.

you assumed, that everybody plays the fool at some point in the game of love.

[tubbytarchia]

I don't know what this is all I know is that LimL Joel makes me really emotional

[elainiisms]

"x loves x more" SHUT UP!!!!!! they need to both be equally in love with each other or i DIE

[sp0o0kylights]

I saw a video today that said, “It’s very uncomfortable as an adult when your friend starts to date somebody who sucks, and you’re all looking at each other going ‘Guys, if this is the person who makes them happy…I think collectively as a unit we can agree that we would rather see them sad. So what's the plan?’” 

And immediately went: modern Steddie AU were Steve dates his high school friend Tommy and everyone is tearing their hair out over how awful he’s being treated. 

Ft. the Party, led by Dustin, hounding Eddie “I could get a man in a SECOND, I just CHOOSE not to date” Munson for help

However:

Eddie is mostly thinking the entire thing is a joke (King Steve and Tommy Hagan? Gay? Together?? Nice try Henderson.) until he runs into Robin. She laments that yeah, they’re bi, but more importantly, Tommy is fucking awful and Steve refuses to see it. 

2. Eddie, maybe, kind of, still has a crush on Steve ("Stop laughing Gareth, everyone has--had! Had a crush on him!") and the guy was never THAT bad in high school---but Tommy Hagan definitely was and a little revenge would be fun.

and finally;

3. Instead of going with the kids' well intentioned but very misguided “Let’s get Eddie to Steal Steve” plan, Eddie meets up with the Robin/Nancy/Jonathan/Argyle/Chrissy dream team to figure out how to prove to Steve that Tommy is horrible. 

Bonus: Robin and Nancy come up with a full proof multi step plan that involves Eddie pissing off Tommy in ways that look completely innocent. The hope is that Steve will see how controlling and unreasonable Tommy is, and break it off.

This hurts no one and just highlights to Steve Tommy's behavior.

Of course, Eddie goes off the rails immediately upon meeting Steve.

Instead of following The Plan, he, with the kids permission and help, gets Tommy to get blow up about THEM.

This is far more successful.

Bonus x2: A large amount of shenanigan's with the kids vs Tommy are involved. As is a scene were Steve breaks down and admits he knows Tommy is terrible, but Tommy puts up with him and Steve "knows how he is."

Eddie goes home, prints out a picture of Tommy and throws cheap ren fair daggers at it for at least three solid hours while he tries to think up ways to prove to Steve Harrington that his parents are wrong, hes very lovable actually.

In fact Eddie would very much like a shot at trying it out, thanks!

(It is also, inevitably, successful.)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Parallel Lines and Brothers.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[moeblob]

So does he, Gallagher.

[ghouljams]

PLEAAAASEEEEE just a lil knight smooch on the hand, even just a light kiss to her lock of her hair

EVEN JUST LOVE FILLED GLANCES PLEAAAAASEEEEEEE

or maybe medivel konig romance i am so lovesick i wamt to hear fluff aND UR DENYING US WITH GHOST KNIGHT YEARNING

OK but only because I'm really beating this poor princess down in two other asks.

You spend most of your day with Ghost, he's your escort for every outing, your companion for every event. You'd think you'd get tired of seeing him all the time but you never do. You love seeing him, and you think he likes seeing you too.

"Good morning," you smile up at Ghost as he comes near, your favorite part of your mornings.

"Morning," he pulls out the chair next to you, grabbing a thick slice of bread as he sits. You don't even need to ask your maids to set a place for him anymore, don't need to coax Ghost into joining you for breakfast. He leans his elbows against the table and breaks the bread apart between his hands, as he watches you.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask, too casual, he nudges you with his knee. "Did you sleep well?" You try again. He's worse than your old etiquette tutor sometimes.

"Same as usual, were you alright after the-" he pauses, clicks his tongue, like he's annoyed he doesn't have a polite word for it. He doesn't want to say "tantrum" but you know he's thinking it.

"I- yes. Thank you." You stare down at your hands, embarrassed. You're too old to be acting like that. Ghost stares at you a long moment before setting his bread on his plate. He reaches across the table to grab meat and fruit, filling your plate before you can stop him.

"Eat, you'll feel better." He plucks another slice of bread free of its warm basket and butters it. You watch him slide the little silver knife against the crumb and he stops, pointing the utensil at your plate. "Eat," he's not asking you.

You pick up your fork and knife to do as he says. You really don't know why you bother listening to him, you're in charge, not him. It's just that, you sort of like doing what he says, he always looks so pleased when you do. He doesn't even look at you when you take your first bite, but his eyes still smile and you know it's for you. His smiles are only ever for you.

"Good girl," He mumbles, sliding his bread onto your plate, neatly jam and buttered just the way you like it.

"You're free to leave," you tell your maids, glancing at them over your shoulder. You know they're hovering, waiting to refill your tea or bring another plate of food. You also know they're waiting for more information on last night's... fit. Gossips the lot of them. "You've left the pot, if I need more tea Ghost will serve me. Go."

The maids exchange a glance and drop to curtsy before scurrying out. You go back to eating. Ghost waits a beat before removing his mask and serving himself breakfast. You don't bother with glances or peaking at his face, you look. It's your right to look, he's yours after all.

"You're staring," he grumbles. Astute observation, you think with a smile. You know what he means, you spear a strawberry with your fork and pop it in your mouth.

"I'm eating."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," he hums, ignoring you in favor of his own meal. Does he know that you only breach etiquette to hear him correct you? Does he see you behave as a perfect princess for others and think he did that? No, you think he must know you're teasing him.

You set your fork down and reach to wipe away the crumbs that stick to his lip. Ghost catches your hand before you can touch him, his tongue darting out to do what your finger would have. His eyes hold yours, each of you waiting for the other to pull back. You don’t want to.

His lips are so much warmer than in your dream, softer, more substantial as Ghost bows his head to press them against your knuckles. You tilt your head, watching him turn your hand to kiss your palm and the delicate skin of your wrist. He looks at you with every promise in his eyes, and you love him for it.

"Good morning, my lady," he murmurs, holding your hand to his cheek. Your heart clenches, fingers curling against the stubble on his jaw.

"Good morning, my knight." You whisper back. The breath he lets out is almost pained, far too heavy for breakfast. He kisses your palm again, and you almost understand why before he drops it. I love you, you both seem to think at each other, I love you.

[bulkhummus]

“Cecil, if it really means that much to you, I’ll tell you. The truth is, this isn’t my first phantom ocean. Before I ever came to Night Vale, there was an incident.”

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change

[silvia-chorlette]

i just realized i didnt get to big boop or evil boop someone NOOOOOOOOOy

[cowboysmp3]

ok not to be insane but the whole tom putting the bidding sticker on greg situ is SO indicative of their entire relationship bc its all about Tom’s desire for control and ownership over something (due to him feeling powerless and out of control in his relationship with shiv). Him putting that sticker on Greg wasnt just a hehe ill look after you way it was much more ‘I own you. You are reliant on me now and I OWN you’. Which is a sentiment that is the very FABRIC of their relationship, calling back to the ‘I will not let go of what is mine’ water bottle scene. Obsessed actually

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

you drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other ; shoko ieiri

synopsis; shoko makes you a morning cup of coffee; turns out she’s not very good at that, but it’s the thought that counts.

word count; 4.2k

contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader (but written w a fem!reader in mind), fluff fluff fluff!!, just normal morning shenanigans at the ieiri household, implied stsg (my brand), shoko can be a girlfailure. as a treat, reader is absolutely whipped (and so am i)

a/n; been writing too much gojo n geto lately. neglecting my wife :((((((( let it be known that i am a shoko stan first human second. this one is for my wlws pls eat up!!!!

you wake up to the sound of your girlfriend’s voice.

melodic and soft, low and saccharine; almost like she’s coaxing you out of hiding. a sound so lovely you wish you could drown in it, laced together with a distinctly raspy tilt, one you can only attribute to the copious amounts of cigarettes she smoked back in high school. one that gets you a little bit weak in the knees.

a leftover residue, bittersweet memories ghosting her lips. in the mornings, it’s particularly prominent. a little intoxicating. manifesting itself as a shiver down your spine, a jolt of your heartbeat, a flush on your skin for every word that she speaks. it’s enough to have you slipping from sleep’s embrace, carried back into the cradle of reality.

why you notice her voice first, and not the smell of something burning — or the sound of insistent beeping — is honestly beyond you. 

it doesn’t take long for your sleepy brain to react, however, a pang of anxiety rushing through your slumbering veins. hurriedly stirring you awake. abrupting your dreamlike, drowsy state, tangled up in silken sheets with your neck smudged by lipstick marks; an alluring red, one shoko typically favors when she’s going out for a drink. coming home just a tiny bit tipsy, affectionate and giggly.

and when your eyelids finally flutter open, your mind melting into the motion of the waking world, you shoot up in a sudden bout of panic.

because fuck, you belatedly, groggily realize — that’s the fucking fire alarm.

and shoko is spewing curses, from afar, loud enough that you can hear it even through the fog of fatigue that clouds your brain. a raspy string of words that you don’t quite catch, but they’re enough to have you scrambling out of bed, nearly bumping into the doorframe as you kick the blanket off your legs.

”what happened?” you croak out, chest heaving a little, having stumbled into the smoke-filled kitchen. disgruntled, reeling with the aftermath of your deep slumber, cold air nipping at your bare skin. the balcony door is open, and the smell of rain invades your apartment.

when you look out the window, all you see is a gray sky, blanketed by a thick coating of wool. smothered by clouds, not a single ray of sunlight slipping through the cracks. the world smells dewy and sweet, asphalt and flowers melting into a nostalgic fragrance, one that reminds you a bit of high school smoke breaks — huddling under the slide at the nearest playground, watching a pretty girl wrap her lips around a cigarette, exhaling smoke just for it to melt into the pouring rain.

one that reminds you a bit of the woman right in front of you, balancing on a chair and stretching her goosebump-ridden arms towards the ceiling, wearing nothing but a lacey bra and a pair of unbuttoned jeans. messy hair that cascades down her back, brows furrowed, eyes simmering with irritation — before flitting over to meet your own.

shoko blinks. then sighs. ”you woke up?” she mutters, and you try not to shiver when the tremor of her voice deepens, morning-fatigue seeping into the syllables. “fuck. sorry, i —”

she stumbles a little, shifting her weight from one foot to another, and you take a step forward. on instinct, as if getting ready to cushion her fall. ready to be of service, in any way you can.

”don’t worry,” she fumbles with the fire alarm, clicking her tongue. nails scraping against plastic. “it’s fine, i just need to — there we go.” 

finally, the beeping stops. and your shoulders relax, immediately, the tight little ball inside your chest untangling. with a deep inhale, the fragrance of espresso and smoke fills your nostrils, and a sense of calm washes over you. rooting your feet to the floor. 

shoko settles down, too, seating herself on the wooden chair. a huff slipping from her lips. they’re smudged, a blurry red she still hasn’t found the energy to wipe away. 

bringing a hand up to card through her hair, lithe fingers in between her messy auburn locks, she exhales. a blend between fatigue and relief.

”god. i need a cig.”

a moment passes. she raises her head, and sees the sleepy little pout playing at your lips — her eyes softening. blooming with something fond. giving you a smile, tired, small. but reassuring. 

”i’m just kidding, love,” she chuckles. “relax.”

”don’t joke about that,” you frown, rubbing the sleep from your weary eyes. stifling a tiny yawn. ”.. took me so long to get you to quit.”

(sometimes you can still see the smoke leave her lungs when she exhales.)

shoko keeps smiling, but doesn’t say anything else. the pitter patter of rain against your balcony railing fills the silence of the kitchen, still brimming with a light layer of smoke, slowly dwindling. cold air drawing it out. clad only in one of suguru’s old t-shirts, you shiver, and shoko seems to notice.

“good morning,” she coaxes, opening her arms slightly — and you move forward, a moth to a flame. without thinking. “sorry for waking you.”

she wraps her arms around your waist, attaching her jaw to the curve of your shoulder, and you melt into the embrace. leaning close, to tuck yourself into her neck. she smells like lavender shampoo. “‘s fine,” you mumble, a yawn muffled into her collarbone. “what happened? are you okay?”

when her plump lips press against the sensitive skin of your neck, right next to one of the kiss marks she left there last night, you can’t help but shiver again. she must feel it, because you can hear the smile she’s trying to bite back in her voice when she answers.

“mm,” she hums, a gravelly noise that makes your throat clog up a little. “just burned something, it’s fine. don’t worry.”

tentatively, you take a step back. just to see her. gazing down at her, into her hazel eyes, the fading crescents beneath them. not as dark as they used to be, not as heavy with lost sleep.

shoko is gorgeous. always, every single day, but you think she’s particularly breathtaking like this. when it’s early, and she’s groggy and a little disheveled, eyes weary and lipstick smudged — bra strap close to slipping off her shoulder, black lace against pale skin, moles littering her forearms and chest like star clusters. oversized jeans that expose the curve of her waist, the fat of her hips, and you don’t notice how intently you’re staring until shoko’s raspy voice reaches your burning ears.

“eyes up here, baby.”

you do as you’re told, and she stifles a chuckle. eyes rich with amusement. you try not to blush.

“sorry.” you chew at the inside of your cheek. eyes trailing to the houseplants by the windowsill. “.. you’re just so pretty.”

shoko tilts her head, an exasperated little breath rolling off her tongue. almost a coo. she’s incapable of blushing; but if she wasn’t, you’re sure she'd blush. 

“thanks.” her touch is light, fingertips trailing down the expanse of your arm. “you are, too. red is a good colour on you.”

you blink. shoko’s eyes are crinkled at the edges, soft lines of crows’ feet, and you huff when you realize she’s talking about the marks on your neck. suddenly a little self-conscious, you bring a hand up to rub at the skin — as if hoping to wipe them away. you doubt it works. shoko just breathes out an airy chuckle, getting up from her seat.

she looks tired, still. stretching her limbs out, sleepily, blinking drowsily.

and it’s odd, you think. that she got up this early, that she didn’t cling to you and make you stay with her in bed like she usually does. you don’t know anyone who loves sleeping in more than shoko does. especially after a night out.

so it’s strange. very strange.

“hey, sho.”

“hm?”

you tilt your head. “why are you up this early, anyway?”

she blinks, and then glances at the clock on the wall. ticking idly, counting down. when she looks back at you, she’s got a single eyebrow raised. “it’s not really early.”

“for you it is,” you quip, something resembling a grin tugging at your lips. and she rolls her eyes, smiling, before linking her arm with yours. bringing you to the stove.

“i was, uh —“ a pause. she does a little cough under her breath, clearing her throat. “trying to make coffee.”

silently, you look at the mess in front of you; what used to be your squeaky-clean stovetop, now stained with a muddy, rusty residue. an unassuming coffee pot sits to the side, having seemingly boiled over, smoke still drifting up into the air.

shoko cringes, a little. before a wry smile makes its way to her lips. ”it was…” she clicks her tongue. sighing softly. ”an attempt.”

”… wait.” you turn to look at her, dubiously, and she avoids your gaze. ”that’s what you burned? coffee?” still no answer. a tiny smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help it if your voice comes out sounding a little teasing. ”how is that even possible?”

”look,” shoko exhales, heavy. ”i don’t know, okay? i think it was the coffee grounds, or something. i look away for one second, and it’s just —”

a little giggle slips from your lips, and shoko shoots you a glare. mostly harmless, but she untangles her arm from your own. ”sorry, it’s just —” you apologize, failing to hide your amusement. ”why didn’t you just use the espresso machine, honey?”

she bites her lip, and you think she might be just a little embarrassed. averting her gaze, briefly flitting towards the machine in question. ”… i didn’t know how to use it,” she mutters. ”i’ve seen you do it, obviously, but i never paid attention to the steps.”

a smile graces your lips. consoling. “it’s not that complicated once you know how it works,” you nudge her arm with your elbow. ”it just looks that way.”

she hums. a click of her tongue, as she adjusts her bra strap. ”well, anyway. i tried. so.”

”right.” you try to stifle a grin, to no avail. ”so… you burned your coffee.”

”and woke you up.” she grins, herself, just a tiny bit self-deprecating. but pretty, always, hair falling over her eyes when she tilts her head. ”a mess, aren’t i?”

”not at all.”

shoko looks at you, and your eyes meet hers. unflinchingly. tired irises falling into the gentle hue of your own, trickling down to the curve of your lips. there’s an honesty to your voice that she’s never quite been able to deal with. 

(love, she thinks. a kind of love she finds somewhat hard to stomach. a sea of acceptance that she fears she’ll eventually drown in.)

before she can properly fall into a morning spiral, you stretch your neck a bit, idly, and she gets a good look at the red marks littering your skin. the way your pulse beats at the base of your throat. tender, slight, a mantra she’s grown just a little bit addicted to. 

”why, though?” you hum, and shoko blinks. snapped out of her thoughts, and back into reality. back into you, the faux pout on your lips. playful, but a little confused. ”i thought i was the coffee brewer of this relationship…” 

and it’s true. you’ve been making shoko’s morning cups of coffee for a while, now, even before you moved in together. she likes it black, sometimes with a drop of cream, sometimes with a cube of sugar. never both. you think it’s very like her, to tiptoe that line between bitter and sweet — never entirely giving in to one or the other. there’s a balance to shoko, something stable. something for you to hold on to, a bitter tinge or syrupy taste that always leaves you yearning for more.

truthfully, your coffee brewing skills aren’t anything special. but it makes shoko happy, to wake up and stumble into the kitchen, being able to hug your back. being handed a cup of fresh coffee. sipping from it in silence, muttering out a groggy good morning that makes your heart flutter.

(to you, it’s precious. that lilt of her voice, that bittersweet tinge. the dearest thing in the world.)

plump bottom lip trapped between her teeth, shoko furrows her brows. ever so slightly. nails tapping at the edge of the kitchen counter, a series of satisfying clicks against the marble. “… well.” 

she clears her throat, but doesn’t say anything else. a moment passes. you try to find the answer in the curve of her lips, the crease of her brow, in the depths of her eyes — but you don’t succeed.

something discomforting settles in the bottom of your throat. almost uncertain, maybe a bit anxious. sheepish, as your tired mind spins in circles. parting your lips. hesitant.

“do you… not like the way i make it?” there’s a dejected tilt to your voice when it spills out, one that makes you feel a little silly. so you smile, or try to, eyes trailing towards the windows; you note that the rain has grown heavier. “i can change how —“

“what?” shoko cuts you off. “no. no, of course not — your coffee’s perfect. honestly.”

again, your eyes meet. and again, shoko seems to be struggling with finding the right words. or maybe she’s struggling to voice them.

“i just… haah.” she brings a hand up to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. you just watch, silent, hungry to hear the thoughts she’s not letting you in on.

a beat. again, the sound of the rain against steel railings, the scent of honeydew and concrete. espresso-flavored smoke, almost entirely faded, leaving only cold air to nip at your thighs. 

and again, as always, inevitably, your eyes are fixed on shoko — a moth to her flame. helpless to the cinders that ghost at your skin whenever she looks at you. a certain contemplation swims inside her eyes, simmering beneath the surface, as she chews gently at the plush of her lips. before turning to face you.

you can only blink. but shoko finally speaks, clearing her throat in a way that strikes you as rather sheepish.

“well — you’re always the one doing all the work. aren’t you?” her voice trickles out into the air, low and saccharine, a blanket pulled over your shoulders. so soft you hold your breath and strain your ears, just to make sure you hear it. “i guess i figured… i don’t know.”

shoko pauses, again, and you can almost delude yourself into thinking there’s a cherry red tint to the tips of her ears. when she parts her lips, that usually carefree voice of hers sounds almost meek. almost, but not quite. more like unsure. embarrassed?

another moment passes, entirely silent. shoko swallows her pride.

“.. satoru always brags about suguru making him those fucked up sugary drinks he likes,“ she mumbles. turning around, to rest her back against the counter, looking out at the downpour. “says it makes him feel so loved. or whatnot. so i just —“ 

she waves her hand, haphazardly. 

“you know.“

a beat. then another. you can physically feel your lips part, a kind of surprise weaving itself into the contours of your face. 

and when you finally speak, your voice comes out a little garbled, scrambling for the right words. not sure if you should feel deeply amused, or just a tiny bit horrified. “wait. you’re saying you…” a moment passes. silent, slow, and all you can do is blink owlishly. in disbelief.

“… got inspired by suguru?”

shoko groans, deep and gravelly, almost comically agonized. covering her face with her pretty hands. “don’t say it,” she pleads, “you’re making it sound as dumb as it is.”

a little giggle slips from your lips. accidental, but she still shoots you a displeased look, huffing under her breath. crossing her arms just to tap at her forearm with her nimble fingers. frowning.

“don’t laugh at me.”

“sorry,” you search for her gaze, but she keeps looking ahead. so stubborn. “i don’t mean to, ‘s just — not very like you, y’know?”

shoko exhales. nearly a huff, but not quite. and you think she must be embarrassed, gnawing at her lip like that, fingers eagerly searching for something to fidget with. it makes you soften, impeccably, the blood inside your veins warming up beneath your skin. stirring you, coaxing you into soothing her. your very own heartbeat seems to be a little enamored with shoko ieiri.

”i appreciate the thought,” you smile. a tender tone, sincere. lingering with amusement. “really. but let’s not base our entire relationship around satoru and suguru of all people, alright?”

and again, she sighs. brittle, a little fatigued. brows scrunching together. ”look, i —”

a pause. she gnaws at her plump bottom lip, eyelashes fluttering like a battered heartbeat. her voice comes out sounding soft, all duvet pillows and fresh lavender, a lilt that anchors you to earth. sweet words. so honest it makes your breath hitch.

”i want to take care of you.”

and this time, you’re the flustered one. burning under her gaze, feeling a heat blossom on your skin. feeling the fervent pitter patter of your heartbeat, as her pretty eyes look into yours. a nice mocha brown. 

but even with the fresh embarrassment trickling through your veins, you find it in you to speak. desperate, maybe, to cross the distance between you — even when it borders on non-existent. desperate to feel your heartbeats synchronize, figuratively or literally. to stitch them together.

“i want to take care of you, too,” you echo, looking down at the floor. and then back at your girlfriend. hesitant, a tad shy. but sincere.

a sincerity so palpable it makes shoko feel a little jealous. 

(sometimes, she finds herself wanting to put a hand inside your chest. dig around your organs, run her fingertips down every single one, until she finds what she's looking for. that miraculous something that makes you stick around, that makes you so frighteningly easy to love. that makes her want to safeguard you so terribly.)

”then let’s take care of each other,” she breathes, a small smile slipping into the curve of her lips. reaching out to brush against your knuckle, weave your fingers together. delicate. 

she clears her throat. “… i guess.” 

and you can’t help but smile. somewhat cheeky, a little teasing. “ah,” your eyes crinkle, and you stifle a coo. “did that embarrass you?”

a sharp little scoff. shoko gives you a lazy grin, paired with a soft roll of her eyes. brushing her thumb across your knuckles, even still. “oh, shut up.”

the world seems to still, ever so slightly, as you look into each other’s eyes. like everything else is just background noise, from the pitter patter of the rain to the fading smell of coffee all around you. shoko looks at you like she’s trying to see inside your brain, see what makes you tick, see you for what you are.

and when she eventually leans in for a kiss, you’re pliant. expectant. her lips against yours, breathing you in, as soft as ever. like she’s afraid of getting too greedy. she tastes like nectar and cosmetics.

“give me some time,” she says, after pulling back. hands on your waist, squeezing softly. “i’ll make you another cup right now.”

”sure you don’t want me to do it?” you ask. “i don’t mind.”

another little scoff. offended. ”look, i’m not incompetent, okay? i’m just not used to it.” she untangles herself from you, warmth slipping away. you will yourself not to chase it. “just stand there and look pretty for me.”

and she smiles, when those words make you giggle, infected by your sleepy joy. something soft and silky blooms inside her ribcage, mirrored by the glimmer in your eyes when you intertwine your hands again. fingertips brushing against each other, delicate, a love that’s handled with care.

”.. i like making you coffee,” you whisper after a beat. smiling. under your breath, like you’re telling her a secret. ”it makes me happy.”

a moment passes. something in shoko’s bones still, for a second, enough for you to notice. and her eyes fill with a kind of hesitance. doubt, maybe. or fear.

when shoko opens up to you, it’s always like this. sleepy, rainy days, or tipsy afternoons. in no more than a whisper, a fragile breath, the ghost of a confession. when you can feel her heartbeat, one finger on her wrist, listening to the rhythm of her pulse. intimate. a little clumsy, but…

”i just don’t want you to spend too much of yourself on me.”

the words are spoken in passing, almost casually, a lighthearted kind of resignation. a hungry ghost. one that follows her, follows you. suguru and satoru, too. there’s a lump in her throat, you can tell, something that makes it a little harder to say what she means. an intimacy that frightens her in a way nothing else can; frightened to hold it in her palms, to keep it close without having it break apart.

(not just her — you all are. all four of you. that’s why you've always been together, you think, why you always will be. four hedgehogs huddling together in the cold of night, too desperate for warmth to stay away from each other's spines.)

carefully, almost cautiously, you bring her hand to your lips. as if you’re handling a flimsy sheet of glass. featherlight, a touch so tender you hope she knows what you’re about to say before the words leave your throat.

“you’re worth it,” is whispered against her skin, your lips against her knuckles. shoko softens, but you think the sigh that slips from her lips sounds just a little shaky. “always.”

and finally, you know you aren't deluding yourself. it’s there, visible, the cherry red of her ears; a red that matches the lipstick on your skin. a flush that never travels down to her face. but it’s enough.

she clears her throat. voice beginning to change shape, slowly but surely, morning fatigue peeled off with the ticking of the clock. there’s still a raspy residue, leftover smoke that’ll never quite leave her lungs, but it’s silkier now. trickling like honey from her parted lips.

and it’s terribly soft, her tongue twisting around the vowels, a low lilt that drips with tenderness. she wills herself to smile. tired, but fond. “just let me make you one cup, then.”

so you do.

you let her, after briefly pointing out the functions of the far too expensive espresso machine that satoru bought you when you first moved in, and she listens intently. those pretty eyes, the intelligence behind them, her lips pursed in focus. shoko’s a genius, you’ve always thought — so effortlessly good at memorization, at figuring out how things work. what ties everything together. 

you think it’s a little comical that she struggled so much with making coffee, of all things, but you choose to attribute it to her slight hangover.  

because she’s focused, when she begins to fiddle with the machine. attentive. as if she’s dissecting it. a satisfaction in the way she moves, the way everything clicks into place as she works. everything serves a purpose, every single part in the machinery, every tube or pump of caffeine. she compares it to the human body, a glint in her eyes, and you can’t disagree.

all you can do is watch her. silently, entirely mesmerized. sitting on the kitchen counter, bare thighs against the marble, swinging your legs. telling her about the dream you had, while she listens. always.

a fresh, thick aroma of espresso and rainwater begins to waft through the apartment. one you drink in, greedy, steam filling your lungs. as you admire how the tiny droplets bounce off the hyacinths blooming on your balcony.

and when she’s finished, producing one cup of espresso, tailored to your liking, you can’t still the beating of your heart. unsure if you should blame it on the caffeine yet to enter your veins, or the proud smile that lingers on your girlfriend’s lips. maybe the way her fingers curl around the handle, the way a soft here, baby, spills from her smudged lips. all of the above, probably.

she’s gorgeous. breathtaking. sometimes you want to give her everything, more than you could live without. your heart, your lungs, your eyes. anything she asks for.

but she would never. all she’ll ever need is for you to keep sticking around, keep telling her about your silly dreams, keep letting her feel the beat of your pulse at the base of your throat. a mantra she’s fallen a little bit in love with.

and when you put your lips against the ceramic, and a bittersweet scent fills your lungs, you think you can taste it. that care, a love soft enough to mend all the jagged edges of your heart.

shoko smiles. smoothing a stray eyelash from your skin, thumb against your cheekbone. “how is it?”

(you swear it’s the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.)

[just-null-cult]

the way you drew kokichi .. i think im ascending to the heavens .. i see the light .. chest collapsing .. heartbeat flatlining ..

oho, a Kokichi enjoyer!! tysm!! it was my first time drawing him at the time so im glad i didnt fail him. i dont want to fail any of the kyoto group. i love them all!! even w my clear favoritism

he's nice too, a bit more expressive than Noritoshi so i can finally draw something that isnt :| or >:( even if it isnt by much- i like him too

I like how he's both a dick but also kinda sweet. He's a different flavor of tsun... i can use this. my knowledge on him is limited but FROM WHAT I SAW IN THE WIKI OH MY GOD???????? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!! KOKICHI!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

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[bericas]

isaac & scott / mason & theo | sometimes all i think about is you