#they seem like the types to call one another a bitch (affectionate)

[marioxdk]

Headcanon that Mario and Donkey Kong are really bad at giving each other pet names, so they keep coming up with increasingly stupid terms of endearment like jackhammer and trampoline

[mintaikk]

Why Blitzø Likes Stolas

I've made jokes about Blitzø liking Stolas bcuz his type is tall, rich, powerful demons with musical talent, and that's probably kinda true, but I wanna talk about the real reasons Blitzø likes Stolas. Tldr at the end.

I think one of the major reasons Blitzø likes Stolas is how kind, sincere, and affectionate he is. Stolas is always making sure he is okay and is very passionate about litterally everything he does (dramatic little bitch, lol). And while he's ignorant ("my impish little plaything"???), he does mean well. Taking Octavia to Looloo Land to make her feel better, Going full demon mode to save IMP, his attentiveness to Blitzø during his mental breakdown in Seeing Stars, him absolutely adoring Octavia, him helping Ozzie when he gained no real benefit, etc, etc.

Also, expanding more on the affectionate part, Blitzø is shown to not get much affection or love in his life at all. His family situation was a giant mess (his dad literally sold him for 5 bucks and a condom Jesus Christ-), and Stolas is a very loving and affectionate person. Obviously, this is shown with Blitzø, but also with Octavia ('my precious little starfire', always staying patient with Via, even if he can be a bit dismissive, going full demon mode when Blitzø said he lost Via), and even his plants (he raised the flesh-eating plant since he was a kid, he pets the plant, on his insta he called a puprle rose "a handsome little rose"). And yeah, he's going to be affectione with Via, that's his daughter, but in Hell, (or maybe just from Blitzø's perspective, it'a hard to tell honestly) that's shown to be a rarity. So obviously, he's going to admire that about him.

And also, compare that to Blitzø's life. His dad saw him as less than, something happened that made his sister hate him, his mom seemed to be a good parent, but she's dead, his best friend and former crush hated his guts for 15 years, his daughter does care about him but she also mostly just shows anger and annoyance with him, and even Moxxie, who'd I'd argue is his best friend, gets annoyed with him constantly (I would too tbh but this isn't about that). Stolas just being his loving and affectionate self and being so happy to see him and always being so sweet to Blitzø is like a breath of fresh air to him.

Another thing is that Stolas shows clear interest in the things he likes. Take horses as example, bcuz we all know Blitzø is obsessed with them. Most of the time, his friends are pretty passive about it, but Stolas actually indulges him. Some of this is from their instas, but Stolas got him a horse Hoodie, he draws horses with him, and Stolas even got inspired to draw because of Blitzø.

(Also, plz note that in another post he commented that it smells like Stolas, and I want everyone to appreciate how happy he looks in this photo while smelling it again)

Blitzø probably admires Stolas's theatrics as well because despite growing up in a Circus where you were supposed to be dramatic and showy, he was still always taught to ignore or hide his true emotions (Cash ignoring that he didn't want to go to the Goetia Palace because "MONEY"). And while Stolas was raised the same way, he still wears his heart and emotions on his sleeve and is always showing them, whether it be positive or negative

And we all know thst Blitzø has major self hatred issues, but Stolas was genuinely interested in Blitzø as a person. Laughing at his jokes, asking how his day went, and with all of this, you can't help but wonder if Blitzø was figuring out that he did too. I think that's why he was so heartbroken about Ozzie's. Because to him, Stolas hiding his face was just proof that Stolas didn't care. That he was just a little plaything. But, Blitzø liked that Stolas liked him for who he was, and that he didn't have to pretend to be someone different.

Yes, ik Blitzø wasn't here for some of them, and he thinks that Stolas is just faking all of this. BUT, Blitzø can notice things subconsciously, and the stuff that Blitzø wasn't there for was to talk about Stolas's character as well. That's why I wanted to talk about this, to talk about what Blitzø sees in Stolas and his character.

Feel free to add anything if you want! I'd love to hear your guy's opinions, takes, and thoughts on the ship. I'm probably gonna a make a post on why Stolas likes Blitzø at some point, lol

Tldr; Blitzø likes Stolas because he's kind, sincere, loving, affectionate, passionate, caring, dramatic, and likes Blitzø for who he is.

[immacaria]

Soup Hour

For my dear @mathomhouse-e. I have only two words for you, dear: Soup. Hour.

_________________________________________________________

  Morpheus Endeles — or simply Dream — was not a man to indulge in frivolities. Despite not being as straightforward as his older brother or younger sister, he was also not known for tolerating things that had little interest to him. Most people would call him a cold bitch, but he preferred to call himself ‘selective’. 

  He didn’t have time to waste on things that didn’t matter to him or his employees. His time was to be spent creating, surrounded by art and beautiful things. If not that, it should be spent restoring antique tomes and discovering long hidden stories. 

  However, if pressed, Dream wouldn’t know what to answer about Hob Gadling. 

  They never met personally and, still, the man was a constant presence in Dream's life. The first time they talked it had been by accident, though it hadn’t been their fault either. One day, Dream woke up to a strange message that simply consisted of “Minestrone soup today. You?” and a picture of a steaming, mouthwatering soup right after. 

  At the time, Dream hadn’t known who Hob Gadling was and had simply answered:

  “I do not know you, who are you? And why are you sending me pictures of soup?”. 

  Not even a minute later, came the answer:

  “Death, are you joking with me?” and Dream knew exactly who to blame for this mishap. His dearest older sister, Teleute, had always been known for meddling in his business — Though, if he must confess, always having his best interests in mind. 

  After clearing everything up — That no, this wasn't Death's number, but rather her younger brother's — and directing the man to the right one, Dream thought that may have been the last he had seen of Hob Gadling. Oh, how wrong he had been. 

  The very next, at the very same time, another strange message woke him up. “Miso soup this time”, it read, being quickly followed by a picture of said dish. 

  To say Dream had been surprised to see another one of those texts wouldn't be a lie. To say he was utterly annoyed, would be too accurate. 

  “You already know this is not Death's number. Why still send me these messages?”, Dream had asked, mouth curling in displeasure as he read the following answer. 

  “Don't know, just thought I owed you a ‘thank you’ after your help yesterday. Didn't know what to say or get you, so soup, it is”. 

  And, despite not having been answered, the texts continued to appear the next day. And in the other one. And in the one right after it. And in the following days as well. 

  They always went through at the same time, somewhere around lunchtime, given or taken two or three minutes of difference. It was always soup and it never failed to wake Dream — Who, otherwise, would sleep until late evening, preferring to be awake when there was no sun or people to bother him. 

  Miso soup, chicken noodle soup, gazpacho, chicken and vegetable soup, zuppa toscana. If someone were to name a new type of soup, Dream was mostly certain that Hob Gadling would have tried that one already. Even the most obscure ones, like a duck blood soup, weren’t safe from him.

  Eventually, the wish to know why Hob only ate soup as lunch and why he still sent the photos to him won him over. There was something interesting about this man that didn’t seem bothered by short, curt answers — if there wasn’t even one to be read — and who seemed to cherish anything that Dream sent back. Then, talks about soup eventually become about anything else. Paintings, books they were reading that week, Dream’s nosy neighbour and the dog Hob adopted without meaning to. 

  The soup photos kept coming, marking what Hob affectionately called ‘Soup Hour’, but slowly started to morph into other types of food as well, some even being Dream’s own additions. 

  “What you looking at, boss?” Matthew said one day as Dream rolled his eyes at the screen of his phone. It portrayed another soup photo Hob had sent — A mushroom one, this time — and a single text underneath it (‘I think this one turned out quite alright, don’t you?’). They had been discussing the merits of always having soup for lunch and Hob had been a firm fan of how many different kinds of soup there were out there. A simple ‘No’ sufficed as answer enough. 

  “Nothing, please carry on,” he waved at him, putting his phone down and looking up at where both Matthew and Lucienne were waiting for him to pay attention. “What?”

  “Was that that Hob Gadling lad again?” Matthew asked, leaning over the table before Lucienne pulled him down. There was a small, knowing smile adorning her lips and Dream felt his eyes narrow at the sight of it. “What? It is him!”

  “Keep going, Matthew,” she prompted, but Dream didn’t miss the amused glint in her eyes as she looked between him and his phone. “You were talking about some partnerships that were of interest, I believe.”

  “Oh, yes, some clothing franchise wants to do a partnership with you and one of your nephews wants your help to promote one of his charity’s dinners,” Matthew continued, looking between the two of them with furrowed eyebrows before turning to his tablet again. 

  “Which charity? Which nephew?” Dream asked and his fingers itched when his phone trembled against the table top. He tried not to look at it, but, if Lucienne’s triumphant smile and Matthew’s judging eyes were anything to go by, he failed miserably. “Which franchise?” 

  “The cat one, Thomas and Dior.”

  Silence followed those words as Dream reached for his phone, deft fingers unlocking it at the same time Lucienne said something about taking a break. He nodded, not bothering to look up as he got up from his seat and left the room. Once his screen, two new notifications shone at him, daring and bright as the day. 

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Don’t you wanna come here and try it?’

  And, later when asked about this, Dream would simply smile and say nothing, but, for now, all he said was:   ‘Yes.’

[princelylove]

Okay we talk about yandere purposely let darling sick, how about yandere purposely hurt darling for whatever reason?

I'm thinking about yandere that set up things or using stand so darling accidentally hurt themselves (example: tripping them to fall down the stair) so they will appear like a hero, take care of darling and manipulate that darling is so clumsy, can't live without them.

Another case it's hurting darling as a punishment, maybe the darling escape then being catch by the yandere, the yandere broken darling's leg as a punishment (or if you into gore stuff, it can be much more terrible). They make darling has no choice but to rely on them.

~ 🏵️ anon ~

Oh, truly a classic in terms of yandere content. Ouchies from the one who just adores you, so they have an excuse to take care of you. I’ll do you one better, anon. Yanderes who hurt you as a way of expressing love. My love tends to hurt, so I feel overly qualified to talk about his one. 

Love isn’t supposed to hurt you, it’s supposed to make you feel like you can finally relax- plenty of overbearing, protective yanderes would agree, but what if someone hurts you to relax? What if this is how they get those urges- those affectionate, mushy feelings- out of their system? It isn’t fair that you’ve asked them to play nice, they are. It isn’t their fault that they prefer to rip your nails off as opposed to- I don’t know, kissing you, or something. 

Yanderes who happen to be both sadistic and possessive tend to fall into this category. It’s ironic- I am both sadistic and possessive, and yet it seems most yanderes in jjba would prefer not to toy with their darlings- most. It's a very specific type of yandere- one who hurts you to show their love, one who hurts you without any love, one who hurts you unintentionally... I enjoy the horror aspect of yandere content as well as the fetish aspect, and someone who has no emotional attachment to their darling is just frightening to me. Sure, I can see the appeal, hot person treating you like shit, masochists are so very easy to please, but I want someone that needs only me. Give me someone who only wants me, someone who scoffs at the idea of having anyone else, and you have my full attention. 

To my fellow sadists, entirely indulgent sessions are the same thing as sitting down and cuddling with a darling. They think of it fondly- how else would you like to spend your days off? Sometimes it’s just the right pick-me-up. Some yanderes are fond of leaving little marks- sweet nothings. They’re gifts, and will give you as many as they’d like. Some might still kiss you- they trail kisses from your thighs to your hips, right over your iliac crest, continue over your stomach, find their way to your chest, make their home in your neck- but that’s not going to come without something mean. You’ll be kissed, sure, but it’s not like your yandere’s hands are just going to disappear. They grab at you- hold you in place, really- and dig their nails into whatever skin they can find. They force your legs open just to watch you squirm, and don’t deliver. Ooooops. Did someone think they were going to really be touched? You poor, sad little thing. They’ll touch you later, once they finish carving their name into your back. Their full name.

For some yanderes, you just need to learn how to translate. Every time they call you vapid whore or a dog is just their way of screaming “I love you, I adore you.” They have such a way with words, too, who else is going to whisper “You’re just a piece of meat with my name on it” so softly, so lovingly? Degradation can be someone's way of expressing their love- haven't you ever heard of some light teasing? Well, they aren't teasing, they fully mean it. You're a stupid bitch who should be overjoyed they're even looking at you. It's not their fault you make the cutest face ever when they talk to you like that! It's the same as yanderes who shower you with praise, it's full of love, it's just not very typical.

For a yandere that isn’t stronger than you are, they rely heavily on restraint and tools. It’s hard to break someone’s bones! But it isn’t hard to shove someone down stairs- and it certainly isn’t hard to stab someone who can’t grab at your weapon of choice. For yanderes who have a stand, it’s not really an issue either way. The frailest figures can become dangerous- it doesn't matter if they're thinner, smaller, weaker, nothing can stop them from breaking your leg if they have a stand. Some stand users are naturally at a disadvantage- I'm not going to pretend that the sex pistols are as much of a physical threat as star platinum. They're still dangerous in their own right, evidently, but they're not capable of breaking something like your femur. Does that mean their user can? Maybe. Don't be stupid and try to find out- if you want Guido to flex for you, just ask. Someone like Jotaro, though... will give you a demonstration, as much as he doesn't want to see you in pain. This is good for you. A romantic like Guido wouldn't break your bones, but someone like Jotaro, although he'll hesitate, would.

I’m firmly of the belief that some stands are entirely sentient- they are their own person. Someone like Giorno and Golden Experience is actually at a disadvantage, what the soul wants is not always what the stand will do. Golden Experience hides things from Giorno- why stop at hiding an ability? Purple Haze isn't always going to obey poor, tired Pannacotta. But for the average stand user, they’re fully in control! It’s like having another you, constantly. What exactly is stopping a close range stand user from beating their darling to Hell and back? What’s stopping them from using it like a person to get in your way/block doors? Granted, not every stand user thinks this way about their stands, but in the wrong hands, it’s potentially very dangerous. 

It's perfect. It's another tool to make their darling write in agony, and some yanderes are in desperate need of tools. Not everyone can be Mr. 203 cm, some of us are short! Someone like Diego (lol.) or Narancia has a disadvantage when it comes to height, but their stands are right where they need to be. It doesn't matter if you can't see Aerosmith, you can feel it.

As useful as it is for someone who normally has a disadvantage, it's also just.... overkill for those who do not need the help. Someone like Risotto can hold his darling down just through brute strength, why would he need a humanoid stand to help? Risotto isn't one for using his stand outside of jobs- what's he really going to use it for? That big teddybear is so obsessed with keeping his darling safe and sound that the thought of "I could render them helpless" won't become a thought until you resist.

Someone like Jotaro or DIO though... good luck with that. Jotaro doesn't want to hurt you- I'm fairly certain I've repeated myself a bit too much in that aspect, but that's not going to stop him from taking the necessary steps to keep you in one place. DIO is another romantic, but you know what? He's not nice.

[ihearasong]

mochi's paracosm, part iii - characters

part one (magic) here part two (history) here

okay, so, most of the story in my main time period of resolve involved this character, Kai (drawn by the lovely marylovesyellow.)

kai is a transmasc vagabond who lives on his starship and travels the stars seemingly without care or purpose. he goes to new places, tries new foods, naps, etc. he appears to have a rather hedonistic life. in reality though, he travels around due to his second identity, the Black Fox.

see, kai is something called a dreamdiver. dreamdivers are INSANELY rare people who have died before, become a spirit, and then come back to the living world in a physical body. they dance the line between life and death as though the line didn't exist at all. one of the gifts of dreamdivers is a natural inclination towards types of weaving that require you to be more in tune with your soul, such as divination.

kai has visions of people in danger in the future, either from physical harm, illness, misfortune, etc., and he travels to people he can help in the form of the Black Fox, an entity which most people believe to be a sacred, angered spirit who helps those in need. kai doesn't realize they're actually correct--he doesn't realize he's a spirit. he just knows he has visions of people who need help, and he wants to help them.

this results in him clashing frequently with the Barons, rich and pompous humans who control the technology industries and take advantage of everyone else. most technology in the galaxy is a human invention, so barons can have quite the monopoly. his identity as the black fox is kept secret to avoid complications.

he's also a master thief, but shhhhhhh.

this is xiih'ren, another dreamdiver, and one with a lot of secrets. he's despised and shunned, known infamously as the Endwhisperer. He's usually seen keeping unusually docile endcryers for company, leading many to believe he's an omen of death, if not death himself.

he's the type of character who's been called and treated like a monster for so long that he's stopped caring and leans into his reputation, using fear and threats to get what he wants such as free food.

he seems to have a fondness of kai for some reason.

this is raeu (artist is marylovesyellow again). he's a guy with a dangerous amount of secrets, as well. he's known to most as a reclusive, mad-genius inventor, and he doesn't let a lot of people close to him.

in secret he's actually the head of a syndicate of warriors who specialize in saving and protecting people in danger. if someone isn't safe in their present living situation, he arranges for them and anyone they care about to be relocated somewhere safer, and he gives them the means to stay afloat and protect and provide for themselves.

his warriors also have another, even more secret mission however: to locate his sister.

this is taephyn (artist is teteda.) taephyn seems to be raeu's right hand man, as well as a close friend of kai. he keeps tabs on kai and makes sure kai is alright, and he provides support when needed. he starts traveling with kai (much to kai's discomfort), and eventually he learns kai's secret and helps him keep it and pull off missions.

he's very affectionate, teasing, and a bit of a worrywart. his connections to raeu's syndicate prove exceptionally useful at times as he helps the main party on their quest, but he's mostly there to support kai.

this is kari, a calico fox (art by marylovesyellow again [i know, i rarely draw my own ocs, artblock is a bitch].)

kari is the curious, motherly figure in the main party. she's skilled in cooking, herbal medicine, physical therapy, and talk therapy. she takes it upon herself to make sure the group is well fed, healthy, and happy, even when some people (kai) would rather be left alone to sulk.

she's curious and inquisitive, and often asks questions that get the rest of the group thinking. she LOOOOVES tofu, and she really wants to train with a hunter clan, but she can't decide which one.

this is fumiko (marylovesyellow again, yes i adore this artist, go praise them). fumiko is a treasure hunter and avid troublemaker. extremely inquisitive and smart, fumiko is usually the one who comes up with theories and hypotheses about the situations the party finds themselves in. they're the optimistic and sincere heart of the party, with a strong sense of morals despite their at-times questionable profession. they are, however, unable to weave, and their dream is to become a great treasure hunter who uses amazing weaving skills to get the job done. though they're a bit of a passionate amateur, they would still occasionally get jobs from people to find treasures from that people's culture and help them protect these treasures from thieves.

fumiko catches sight of kai using some form of weaving that they've never seen before, and they practically glue themselves to kai's side and *beg* him to teach them weaving. he eventually ends up dragging the rest of the party on an adventure to discover what happened to the dragons of myth and how the dragons taught others to weave.

[rosefulmadness]

hello dear rrr fandom: we need to make a backstory for jenny.

we all know (and seem to agree) that sita is a doctor who helps revels and manages the village as well as being an absolute girlboss who can be soft and nice and kick ram's ass (affectionately) and she's also really smart and in most interpretations knows at least a bit of english.

what about jenny tho? I don't have any stories myself but we could collectively come up with one. surface level stuff like jenny never having an actual friend cause everyone is so fake or manipulative is a thing we made canon without voicing it but that's not enough. what about her parents? it is to my understanding that scott and the blonde bitch are her aunt and uncle, what about her parents? are they dead? do they not care about her? does she have siblings? where was she raised? how was she raised? is she just kind even tho she's probably been taught that non-white people are stupid, barbaric, and a waste of time? or did someone teach her that?

perhaps she had a nanny, a caretaker that was Indian, someone who had to take care of her and had no choice in doing so but decided to take the opportunity and teach the young child kindness, to not make her a monster like the other british people. maybe that's why she was so kind to malli? why even tho she saw bheem in pain she never tried to stop her uncle and aunt. maybe she's seen what happen to does that speak up, maybe this isn't her first time seeing people being hurt like that, maybe her nanny had to go through something similar when they found out she was teaching jenny kindness, "manipulating her" as they called it.

or maybe go a different route and just make scott and blondy her parents, and explore the type of childhood she would have had. maybe add a little detail when she gives the prison maps to bheem, maybe have her ask him to kill her parents, or have her hide it from everyone until someone catches on. that would add another layer to her feeling guilty for what the british did to India. you can do a found family trope if you want to.

I'm just saying, there are so many different approaches to her and it seems to me like she's a bit one-dimensional even in the fandom. I would gladly write fics or elaborate more but school makes it impossible for me to have time for that. let's not just give backstories and flesh out a few characters, let's do it with all of them, let's make a whole different level to rrr. I would also love for people to look more into malli's mom and what she went through. laachu and what his thoughts are on ram as well as how he found out about bheem being flogged and how he even found him after that. babai needs a personality too, most of the time he's just there and that's it .perhaps even scott, I would like to get a peak at his thoughts, his wife is a character that interests me too but idk what to do with her cause again, one-dimensional.

I'll try to work stuff out but for now, all you'll get is this vomited info dump that I forgot why I started writing in the first place. see ya ig

[hinaology]

『••✎••』 hinaology is typing... 『••✎••』

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

kyle broflovski x reader

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

tags: yandere! kyle, toxic behaviour, he’s only soft for you, talk of premeditated murder/violence, branding/violence, blood, cuddles, reader has mild stockholm syndrome, but he seems too loveable,, potential series??, aged up characters!, everyone is 17, some background ships

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

the warmth is intoxicating, he can’t let it go. you’re fast asleep on his chest, body warmth mixing with his. breathing in your shampoo’s scent, kyle let his eyes flutter closed. you were mentally tranquillised, completely passed out, snuggled into him safely. he knew you would only be safe in his proximity, he had to keep you safe. the others didn’t know the extent of the situation, just guessing that kyle was overly protective. they didn’t see the yelling, arguing, the way he had broke you. kyle had managed to convince you that he was the only one who could truly protect you, that it was you and him against the world. now, you two stuck together, through thick and thin and he was so happy.

nowadays, the two of you were seen as the perfect couple, always seen together, always smiling as he walks you to classes he wasn’t in and hides you at the back of the class in the ones you two shared. kyle is always extremely aware of what he’s doing, feeling bad whenever you cry as he brands your skin as his. “kyle.” stan greets, and he opens his eyes. “what’s up?” he asks, tightening his hold on you. “clyde’s ordering food, we were wondering if you two want anything?” the raven haired boy asked, glancing at you when you shuffled. kyle grasps you tightly, asking for anything and watching stan leave.

attention drifting back to you, kyle runs his fingers through your hair. watching you stir makes him smile as you let out a soft noise, nuzzling into his shirt. “darling..” he sings, quietly. you make another small noise, “kyle..?” you mumble, and he gives your forehead a soft kiss. “hey, sleeping beauty. the others are ordering food.” he tells you, and you hum, nuzzling into his jaw sleepily. “tired, darling?” your boyfriend chuckles, raising the thin blanket to check the healing gashes on your thigh. wincing as his fingers rub and press over each sloppy letter, you grasp his shirt tightly for comfort. “don’t worry, it’s healing well.” kyle rubs the cuts, giving your head a loving kiss. you hum, wrapping your arm around his neck as you cuddle into him. “guys, you coming?” stan calls from the hallway. “yeah!” your lover responds, covering up the healing wounds once more. kyle sits up with you, urging you not to fall asleep again as you whine. “c’mon, let’s go.” he smiles, kissing you gently. “but m’tired...” you pout, resting your head on his shoulder. “i know you are, darling.” he gushes, keeping you wrapped up and warm. easily scooping you up, kyle decides to carry you downstairs, and stan doesn’t even question it, just guessing he’s pampering you.

“damn, about time.” cartman scoffs as both stan and kyle tell him to shut up in unison, and your tired form is placed onto the couch where you fall against craig sleepily. “we ordered one of everything on the menu because you guys took a while.” clyde shrugs, and token pipes up, “it was expensive, but don’t worry, i’ll pay.” he smiles, and kyle nods, eyes trained on you. he couldnt hear what craig was saying to you, and it was stressing him out. “kyle, come help me serve drinks.” stan pulls his arm gently, and kyle looks at his friend. “sure.” the redhead follows him through to the kitchen, leaving you behind. as stan gathered cups, kyle prepared alcohol for the others. his mind is racing with jealous thoughts. was craig stealing you from him? would he have to kill him? was he willing to kill for you? he’s hurt people to keep them away from you, but... interrupting his thoughts, a warm body hugs him from behind, clinging onto him. “hey.” you mumble, nuzzling into his back. “hey, you alright?” he asks, putting down the bottle of whiskey.

“mhm, missed you.” you reply, snuggling into his back. stan laughs, “you two can’t be seperate for more than a minute. he was in the other room.” he teases, and you hum, holding on tighter. “it’s alright.” kyle smiles, mainly speaking to you. watching him pour the alcohol, you pepper kisses along his neck, resting your body weight against him. it’s rather comforting to kyle, halting his more unstable thoughts which he’s rather thankful for as he’s known craig for a long time. “i’ll bring these through.” stan announces, taking a tray of alcoholic beverages. “alright dude, don’t drop them this time.” kyle jokes, and stan laughs half-heartedly. “i won’t.” he huffs, leaving the room.

“how’s your leg?” kyle asks, and you hum. “not bad, it stings but... it’s not that bad.” you reply, letting kyle direct you to the counter where he sits you down upon the surface. “i love you.” kyle reminds you, and you smile, pulling him into a hug. “i love you too.” you reply with ease, letting him kiss up your neck. “what was craig talking about?” he decides to ask whilst he had the chance and you freeze for a moment. “he was just joking about how he thinks i’m narcoleptic.” you explain, and your boyfriend hums. “anything else?” he asks, nipping your skin slightly. your breath hitches at his actions. “no.” you say, tightening your grip on his shoulders. “hm.. alright.” he sighs, kissing you sweetly.

your fingers curl into his hair, kissing him back as you cup his head closer. his hands press against the countertop- either side you, as he leans closer, backing you up into the cabinet behind you. you whimper as he bites your bottom lip, forcing them open before slipping his tongue into your mouth. kyle moves his hands to grip your hips instinctively. "dude, really?" stan groans, faking a gag. kyle rolls his eyes, breaking away from you. "right on my fucking kitchen counter." his friend continues, grabbing the drinks. 

kyle pulls you into a hug as you stick you tongue out at stan. "c'mon, i don't want you two fucking in my kitchen." the raven haired boy gestures for you to follow. pulling you off the counter, kyle guides you to the other room. "when's the food coming?" eric complains, and clyde rolls his eyes. "like, thirty minutes dude, calm down." alas, cartman didn't calm down, fussing as he gets up for a 'power snack'. shoving past you, you wince as pain shoots up your thigh to your hip. kyle goes to snap at him, but you grab his arm to stop him.

"you two can sit on the love seat." stan teases, sipping his whiskey and coke. kyle guides you to the two-seater, wrapping you up in a blanket and giving your forehead a soft kiss. "why can't we have that, wendy?" bebe jokes, making wendy look up from her phone. "bitch, we do!" she replies, rolling her eyes sarcastically. kyle coddles you, ignoring the girl's chatter. you rest against him, slotting your body against his easily as the two of you tend to lay on couches often. with your back to the others, kyle carefully checks your leg, rage building as blood beaded on the cuts spelling his name. "i'm gonna kill him." he mumbles to you, and you hold onto him tightly. "please don't... i don't want you to get in trouble." you whisper, clutching his shirt and nuzzling into his neck.

kyle sighs, kissing your neck gently. "i won't get in trouble." he assures you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "nothings gonna happen, right?" you ask, just wanting to make sure. "no, nothing's going to happen." he sighs, giving you a soft kiss. "thank you... i don't want anything happening to you." you say, kissing his jaw. "i know... we'll keep each other safe." he replies, cradling you against his chest. cartman groans as he spots the two of you, flopping down onto a free seat with a snack. "do you two have to do that here?" the other teen complains, munching on his food.

kyle doesn't respond, flipping cartman off. "what's wrong with it?" clyde asks, looking over at you two. "it's gross! no one wants to see them all lovey-dovey." he scoffs, and kyle's anger brews. "then leave, they're not doing anything wrong." kenny shrugs, sipping his drink and slouching back as he tosses an arm carelessly over the back of the couch and over craig's shoulders. eric rolls his eyes, deciding to go to the kitchen once more. "don't eat out stan's cabinets!" wendy calls after him, and eric lets out a sharp "ey!"

kyle chuckles slightly, keeping you snug against him. you were slowly dozing off once more as kyle gently rubs your side, kissing your face. you hum slightly, resting your hand on his cheek, your fingertips rubbing his skin lovingly. kyle's anger is swallowed by love, pure adoration for you swelling in his heart. the tip of your nose gently nudges his, rubbing them together affectionately. kyle smiles, kissing you sweetly as he pulls your leg over his waist, slotting you him even closer against him.

"if my man doesn't hold me like that, i don't want him." bebe jokes, nudging wendy who snorts. "hey!" clyde pouts, crossing his arms tightly. "no hard feelings, clyde." she winks at her ex, pulling wendy closer. stan laughs too, watching the two of you. time passes with everyone trained on the tv, catching or on their phones. you and kyle were still cuddled up, and you had fallen asleep once more. "maybe they are narcoleptic." kenny jokes to craig, who nods. "they sleep anywhere." he shrugs, glancing over at you.

kyle keeps his eyes closed, but listens to them carefully. "they are a cute couple." stan chimes in, and the other two agree, "they're always so close though. like, personal space doesn't exist for them." craig notes, making kyle slightly uneasy. "mhm.. we could get that close." kenny jokes, and craig instantly shuts him down with a: "shut up." stan interrupts them with another note. "to be fair, y/n is getting more quiet... they used to be rather loud and joke around." he points out, and the other two hum. "well, i'm sure it's nothing. relationships can change a person; mellow them out, y'know." kenny replies smoothly. kyle grips you tighter as they continue, anxious that they would split the two of you up if they get close to the truth.

you stir as he squeezes you too tight for your comfort, your hands coming up to rest on his chest to soothe him as he kisses you gently. "what's wrong?" you ask, and he sighs. "nothing. just want to hold you closer." he mumbles, and you hum softly, wrapping your arms around his torso to hold him just as tight.

kyle seems happy with your grip, jumping slightly as a sharp knock at the door interrupts the peacefulness. eric dashes through, and clyde and token get up to answer it. the door swings open, and clyde collects the food whilst token pays the poor man having to carry it all. "have a good night!" he waves, closing the door. "that is so much food!" kenny laughs, and you sleepily look over, resting your head on top of kyle's lazily.

"finally!" eric groans, following clyde into the kitchen, and stan gets up to help. you look back to kyle, smiling at his lovestruck face. "hey." you giggle, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. bebe lets out a loud awe, making you look back to her with a laugh. stan comes back through, handing the two girls their food before dipping back into the kitchen. "why did we order so much food..." token sighs, and craig snorts. "because it's clyde, he's always making rash decisions." the raven haired boy replies as kenny get's up to get a refill.

your attention is dragged back to kyle, who pulls you into another kiss. "whatcha thinking about?" you ask him, yet he doesn't respond for a second, giving you another soft kiss. "nothing. just you." he smiles, and you roll your eyes. "of course." you giggle, bumping your nose against his affectionately before kissing him. "really? right in front of my salad?" kenny fakes disgust as he walks back in with two boxes of food and his refill. "fuck your salad." kyle shoots back and the room goes silent, everyone glancing at each other before bursting out laughing.

as the new conversation starter brings up condiments as lube, stan walks back in with a lot of food and a lot of confusion as to why kenny was practically in tears as bebe spoke about how salad cream would be better and 'hurt less' than ranch. "okay, hot take. nando's sauce." craig pipes up, and token sighs. "ew, gross! that would burn!" wendy laughs, and you smile at the comfortable atmosphere between everyone. you wanted that, craved it, but alas you couldn't leave your bubble that kyle had made.

his slender hands grip your hips, pulling you back to him. feeling saddened by the situation, you turn back to kyle, hugging him tightly. "hey, what's wrong?" he asks, noting your teary eyes as you hide your face in his neck. "nothing... i just... our situation sucks..." you sniffle, slipping your fingers into his curls to cradle his head closer. kyle seems confused as he hugs you back tightly. "what do you mean..?" he questions, and you hold onto him tightly. "we only have each other... there's no one else." you whisper, and kyle sighs. "it's safer this way, you know that." he replies, kissing your head gently. "i know... i just... it's lonely sometimes." you mumble, resting your head on his shoulder as you sigh. "i know but sometimes we have to-..."

stan interrupts his comfort by throwing a pizza box down onto kyle and handing you your own food. clyde always remembers your favourites. "thanks stan." you smile, and he freezes. "hey, are you okay? you look like you're about to cry." he asks, and kyle grips your waist as you nod. "yeah, i just yawned is all." you smile, and stan nods with an 'ohh.' "that happens to me all the time, and my mom's always so concerned." he laughs. you nod, agreeing on how it was annoying.

stan leaves after a quick laugh, and you snuggle into kyle as you dig into your food. "feel better?" he asks softly, and you nod. "mhm. interaction helps a lot..." you admit, and kyle sighs. "i know.. i just want to keep you safe. you know that." he reminds you, and you nod. "i know, and i appreciate that but-..." kyle grips your jaw to stop you, giving you a gentle kiss. "i don't want to remind you again." he whispers. you nod, silencing yourself and leaning into him.

"who wants to play a horror game?" kenny asks, raising his hands. "sure." craig nods, looking at token who sighs. "fine, but i'm not doing it for you guys because you're too scared to hold the controller." the others eventually, yet reluctantly agree, and you smile as clyde loads up roblox, going to the horror section. "rickey rat... the fuck is that?" he asks, jokingly. "i mean... looks like a shit one, let's play it." wendy laughs.

[lebrookestore]

the one; l.ty

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Themes: exes! au, best friends to nothing, exes to nothing, college! ish au because they’re graduating, the angst is a very subtle type but its still pretty heavy

Warnings: unrequited love, heavy angst, mentions of kissing and food (ice cream)

Wc: 1.6k

Playlist: the 1 by taylor swift, closure by taylor swift, 2 kids by taemin, dancing after death by Matt Maeson

Authors note: this is a deleted scene from my fic, favorite crime! (which you should go read. please lmao but also because it will give this story even more context) i have altered it so it sort of works as a oneshot? Anyways, I hope you like it<3

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

~

When you’re younger, you’re told to live your life to the fullest, to enjoy your youth. You’re seen as naive and and wide eyed at the world around you. When you’re younger you’re allowed to make those stupid mistakes and mess up, because people look past them.

But some mistakes, everyone but yourself can look past. These type of mistakes could haunt you for the rest of your life with every little thing you do. The what ifs.

And when you’re young, even though you have so much of your life left to enjoy, you can’t ever go back and fix them. They were permanent, like a life long promise, or a tattoo inked into your skin. You would never be able to escape them, even if you moved on.

At age twenty one, standing in front of your full length mirror donning your graduation cape, you had already made one of these mistakes, and it weighed you down everyday, simply because the reminder of it all was just a window away.

You glanced through your window, seeing him there, doing the same thing as you were, trying to adjust his tie. If you hadn’t been so stupid, then the two of you would have been getting ready together, you would be the one tying his tie and he would be the one teasing you about how your your cap was too big for you.

You let a smile brief your lips, before looking away. Even though you were no longer staring at him, you knew exactly what he was, the image burned into your mind. Bleached blond hair still messy no matter how much he tried to tame it, his bright eyes that seemed to hold the universe and that intoxicating smile.

Your biggest mistake was falling in love with the boy who never loved you back.

And how you had fallen, hook, line and sinker for him. Taeyong was the object of your affections, your best friend- well former best friend. That was where your mistake came in.

You foolishly let it happen, a relationship of sorts with him. At first, it was everything you had ever wanted, but that slowly started turning into a nightmare you wanted to wake up from. Sometimes you still wonder if you’re in a nightmare.

The two of you worked so well together, because you had known each other since you were four. He knew all your flaws, had seen you at your worst and at your best. You would have never thought he would be the cause of one of your worst moments.

But Taeyong, he wasn’t in love with you, but rather, was infatuated. Infatuated with the idea of love and loving you. Once he figured that out, he did the right thing and told you, effectively breaking up with you.

You lost your best friend and lover all at once. It was painful being around him, because you were still in love with him. He had been your everything, and now you had nothing at all. He slipped through your fingers like sand on a beach.

You hadn’t talked to him since that night he told you the truth. You made an effort to not look at him through your window, because it would just break your heart more. You had never known what it was to be heartsick until you experienced it yourself, and extremely violently.

He didn’t push it either, giving you your space. And while this helped you heal, it also felt so wrong. From spending almost every moment together, to spending no time at all, your lives had completely changed.

For some, love was a breeze, it gave them a fuzzy warm feeling that they wanted to hold onto forever. For you, love hurt like a bitch.

You couldn’t help but think about what could have been, if he had actually loved you. Or if you never indulged in what you wanted and just stayed friends. Sometimes- no, all the time, you wished that had happened instead. You were fine with loving him quietly.

Another part of you, the more selfish part, wished he never realized he didn't love you. You would have been fine living that way, but that was only thinking about yourself. You deserved to know, and he deserves that freedom.

What if?

Falling into love is easy, especially with someone like Taeyong. He was the most beautiful guy you had ever seen, with the kindest heart you could think of. You had fallen when you were merely seventeen, still in high school.

No, it was the falling out of love part that was harder. After loving someone for as long as you had loved him, you couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. The sheer thought of it didn't make sense to you.

So what if you were still with him, what if you never lost him. What if he was still your best friend through thick and thin?

Snapping out of your thoughts, you made one last adjustment to your graduation cap and sighed, scanning yourself over in the mirror. Deeming yourself presentable, you walked out of your apartment, jogging down the stairs of the building and reaching the ground level.

You were hitching a ride with your friend Ryunjin, who was arguably the world's worst driver but you didn't really have a choice. If you did, you would be going with Taeyong, but well, that wasn't going time happen.

You yourself couldn't drive, simply because you were too scared of accidently killing someone. Taeyong had even tried to teach you how to drive when the two of you were dating, but it was discovered that you were probably even worse than Ryunjin.

A few traumatized minutes of the drive to campus later, you found yourself lost in a sea of students that were also graduating with you. Thankfully you had a few friends, but it was still pretty overwhelming.

The ceremony itself was a blur, of you were being completely honest. You saw your friends get called up on stage and receive their scrolls. Ryunjin flashes an awkward peace sign at the principal because she shook his hand, Ten did a happy dance after, and Renjun pretended to click a picture.

You saw Taeyong go up there and receive his scroll, a bright smile on his face, a smile you so loved. You clapped for him, a proud, yet bittersweet smile gracing your features.

And soon it was you up there, and after you had gotten your scroll and take your picture, it had literally turned blurry. You didn’t realize you were tearing up until a wave of emotions crashed over you. You had finally graduated, you were out of this place after four years.

You hated change, despised it even. Now you were thrust out into the world, gone was the familiarity of attending classes and parties with your friends. First you lost your best friend, now you’d probably lose most of your other friends. It wasn’t as if all of you were going to stay in the town, you had first hand experience of this when your friend Yeji graduated the year before and moved away.

You were so young, so naive and yet it felt as if you couldn’t hold on to a single moment long enough. How were you supposed to enjoy your youth then? You were slowly loosing everything.

Sucking in a deep breath, you composed yourself, a laugh escaping you when Ryunjin practically threw herself onto you in a hug of celebration. You quickly wiped your tears so no one saw them, smiling. 

Turning around to talk to another friend, your eyes met Taeyong’s. He was much further away from you, but you knew it was him, you’d always know him. He didn’t break the contact, a small smile appearing on his lips as me mouthed something.

‘I’m proud of you’

You mustered up the best smile you could, repeating the same things silently so that only he would know it. Pressing your lips together pacified, you once again accepted that it was over. You had accepted it so many times, but you had to keep reminding yourself.

With one last look in his direction, you raised your hand up, curling your fingers into a fist before bringing it down to your chest, right over your heart. His smile only grew as he gave you an affectionate wave. Best friends after all, you knew each other like the back of your hands.

And then everyone tossed their caps into the air, as cheers resounded through the hall. Laughter and chattering filled the area, and you knew it would be alright in the end. 

You accepted the fact that Taeyong would haunt all your what-ifs, even as you tried to move on. All the kisses at midnight and late night talks out on your adjoining roofs, the long drives and ice cream dates- it was a thing of the past.

And yes, it still hurt when you recalled all the beautiful things that had happened with your time with him, the way the two of you were so beautiful.

It simply wasn’t meant to be, even if you were still in love with him. Heck, you were sure you’d always be in love with Taeyong, a part of your heart would be reserved for him and him only, but it was time to let go. You weren’t okay right now, but you’d learn to be okay. 

Still, it would have been fun if he had been the one.

fin.

[cielcius]

hi!! if ur open for requests then may i pls req hcs or scenarios wherein suna, sakusa, samu or kuroo have a puppy-like s/o (like super hyper and affectionate smth like that) thank u so much!! i hope u have a good day bb!!

PUPPY-LIKE S/O | HEADCANONS

includes: kuroo t., osamu m., sakusa k., & suna r.

from the writer: hi honey! sorry this took a bit but I hope u enjoy :) thank u for requesting and have a lovely day/evening!

notes & warnings: light cursing, reader has a puppy-like personality

Kuroo:

oooh, you a feisty one (damn if I wasn’t straight I'd go for the feisty ones too cause y’all on something different i stg)

right from the get-go he’s pullin out the big guns aka cheesy chemistry pick up lines and surprisingly, you laugh at them and now he’s like🧍‍♂️‘shoot, what now?’

he’d be kinda smug about how affectionate you were to him, in public or not, you bet your ass that he’s rubbing it in Yamamoto’s face before you scold him for doing so

he wouldn’t hide how adorable he found you, like he has his lock screen and Home Screen wallpaper set to a picture of you and it changes every once in a while when he takes another cute photo of you

he wouldn’t mind you being so energetic either, in fact he’d probably ask you if you wanted to try and toss a volleyball around and play fetch okay im sorry that was outta pocket

but he really does love you and he’s actually conscious of how much he learns about you as your relationship progresses and he gets to see the not so energetic side of you during your spontaneous sleepovers

but overall, I think he’d really adore you a lot and he turns into the biggest sap around you

Osamu:

why were your eyes so shiny and adorable and why was everybody staring?

when he first met you, he thought you were one of those go-lucky people, and you were, but not the obnoxious type he expected. like whenever he’s with you, you make him feel abnormally safe

when you guys first start dating as in the first few days when he can finally revel in the feeling of calling you his, he lowkey felt self-conscious because of how much attention you attracted

and it was because you were just so fricken cute and adorable and honestly it made him want to bash everybody’s heads in for even looking in your direction but nothing, nothing could compare to when Atsumu was around

protec mode: on

even if he seems really nonchalant, he’s actually cooing at you on the inside and acts really motherly when you guys are alone: “are you hungry?” that’s his concern most of the time cause if you say yes then that means food for him too lmao

plus he loves you and he secretly just wants to cook for you and for you to praise him. tell him he did a good job and give him a forehead kith 🥺

Sakusa:

the first time you tried to hug him out of nowhere, he spritzed you with a water bottle like an actual dog in training

he doesn't understand how you can be so active and not play any sport like damn, hand over the energy bro, its Sakusa’s turn

but regardless of how much you run around, he will always follow close behind with a first aid kit because he’s also somehow learned of your many accidents with running into things and tripping over air

he wasn’t sure if you yourself were aware of it but the first time Sakusa saw someone trying to take advantage of your naive nature: bitch mode on. I stg he has this secret sassy side of him but nobody talks to him enough to know about it besides Komori

but I mean all he has to do is stand behind you lookin all intimidating and the next thing you know, the person who was being strangely nice to you is running with fear in their eyes

“oh Sakusa, its you!” he swears if you had a tail, it'd be wagging in happiness rn

I think at some point in your friendship, even before you guys started dating, he let you call him a nickname but only you. if anybody else said it, then they’d have to suffer the wrath of Sakusa and his cleaning products

Suna:

he was on the verge of passing out from volleyball practice when he met you omg, and his posture was so bad like boy, fix your back or I will 🙄 and he was astounded at how much energy you had

I mean you guys met through Atsumu so of course you would be someone who could keep up with the chaotic energy and Suna actually liked that about you

Suna mainly puts most of his energy into volleyball, and sending you memes (that's his way of communicating) until he accidentally confessed through a meme?

uh yeah but its cool cause of course you accepted and confessed that you liked him too

and suddenly, play fighting is a thing between you two and it usually ends with you guys collapsing on the bed in exhaustion and knocking out

one thing that really stood out to him was how much trouble you got into at school, and it wasn’t even on purpose most of the time as it would usually be you breaking something on accident

okay but he hates it when you’re trying to get something from him, even though he’ll usually give it to you with no problem but if he even thinks about saying no, your puppy eyes just make him forget everything related to the word and now he’s making sugar cookies with you in the odd hours of the night

[blueprint-han]

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay​ skznta event, written for @stayndays​ !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it!  ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started  is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”. 

 “Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them. 

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock. 

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.” 

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose. 

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date. 

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too. 

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter. 

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it. 

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion? 

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own? 

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it. 

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous. 

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long. 

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now. 

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch. 

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was  neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across. 

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all. 

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.” 

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.” 

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned. 

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon.  You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have  the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door. 

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod. 

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

 It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up. 

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days. 

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly. 

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it. 

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately. 

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly. 

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.” 

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?” 

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.” 

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course. 

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

taglist: @inkidz​ @stayverse​ @districtninewriters​ @kpopscape​ @skzwritersclub​ + @sunoo-luvs​ @sleepylixie​ @rae-blogging​ @happiestgirlontheeastcoast @guerillrah​ @p2q3r4​ @baby-innie​ (Please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!) *oh holy lord pls let this show up in the tags*

[dreamii-yume]

@shikigamiuwu said :

“Epel’s have a crush to y/n since they meet them and has confessed there love for y/n many times but y/n reject him. So since it was here birthday he thought of confessing again since he has birthday pass, but Y/n reject him again since he has a crush to Vil or Rook (whoever you want) to Epel’s demise, so Epel’s became so frustrated and angry that he just rape y/n and manipulate him on think y/n is not worthy to be with Vil’s so he can have y/n for himself.”

••••••••••

You, my good bitch, have sent like- four big-brained ideas for not only Epel but SILVER BIRTHDAY CRUMBS and I am ascending. Yume does not deserve this, I–

Warnings : Non-Consensual Touching | Non-Con | Yandere

“I like you.”

If it happened to be your first-time hearing Epel say those three words to you in such an affectionate manner, words that are obviously meant to be taken as a confession, it would’ve been enough to put you through a coma because of shock. You’ll be all flustered and probably stutter like a toddler learning how to speak for the first time, trying to figure out if it was a joke or not, despite the obvious signs. I mean...It was a confession from such a beautiful boy after all and you don’t really consider yourself as someone who can reach that level of beauty so, how can you not panic? If it were the first time, you wouldn’t know what to do, what words you should say, or which feelings you should prioritize. You’d be totally lost!

Except…This was no first time.

How many times had this beautiful boy confessed to you over the course of a few months? You weren’t counting, but you do know that you rejected each one of them respectfully and thoroughly. You didn’t why he kept coming back, he’s a lot more persistent than he lets on. “...How many times are you gonna tell me that?” You can answer him as differently as you want, but Epel would only smile at you and say the same thing every time.

“Until you can say that you like me back.”

The first time was as true as it could get, you were flustered, in the state of disbelief, plenty of eye movements going everywhere, grateful but unsure, and nervous sweat formed on your forehead. He loves you in a romantic sense, but even if he was someone precious to you, you just can’t see him as someone more than a really good friend, family even. “...But I keep telling you, I already like someone else.” It was your only excuse; it was a weak reason but at least it wasn’t a lie, Epel should know it more than anyone. It shuts him up, unable to say anything that could counteract your words and at first glance, it looks like a sign of giving up but soon, he’d just shrug it off like you never said anything in the first place.

It was troublesome, Epel wasn’t forcefully pushing his personal ideologies into you but having to tell you something that you already know is tiring to say the least. You wanted to be polite and even appreciate his honesty, but the more times he confesses, the more desensitized you get. Your rejections went from being apologetic to giving out an exasperated sigh and a shake of your head, just wanting to get it over with. It’ll just be the same anyways, the same confession and the same response, there was no point in sugar coating your words at this point.

“I like you.”

Epel might have thought that he’d get the response he wanted if he confesses to you on his birthday, but you could just shake your head in pity. No, you weren’t going to give in to the fact that it’s his special day and feel obligated to reciprocate his feelings because of it. You’d be lying otherwise, and you’re not about to build a relationship out of lies...Seriously, when is he ever going to stop terrorizing you with all these confessions, you’re starting to feel really bad about yourself here.

“Like I said a million times before, Epel.” You narrowed your eyebrows together with a stern and impeccable voice. “I don’t like you that way, I have someone I already like—“

“It’s Vil-san, right?”You widened your eyes as you looked back at Epel, surprised that he gave up a different answer than the usual. He was wearing the same smile as he does before, but up until now, you just can’t stand the fact on how empty it feels.

“H-How did you—“

“It’s obvious. Anyone could easily guess it if they observed you enough...Especially with how you constantly you look at him.” He said, his clear cerulean eyes burning holes into your soul. This made your cheeks flushed, quickly looking down...Do you really act that weird when it comes to Vil? It’s true that he makes your heart flutter and his presence was just something that you can’t turn a blind eye into but...You always thought that you were keeping your feelings cool and low. “What, don’t tell me you’re not aware of it yourself?”

Epel laughed, his hand covering his mouth like a delicate princess. “You’re really funny, charming even when your making such a dumb face too, hehe...” He said with a tinge of adorable red tainted on his flawless skin, rosy cheeks that you could only ever wish in your dream to have. You gulped as he looked back at you, staring straight into your unsettled eyes, making your body tense without knowing the actual reason as to why. “...But that’s only because I really like you that I’m willing to accept any of your bad characteristics. What do you think will I think if I were a normal person? If I were Vil-san?”

Your mouth closed and open multiple times, trying to find the words you want to say. Somehow, you began to piece together what he wanted to say and yet, you couldn’t actually stop him from saying it out loud. You knew it yourself; you didn’t need someone to pressure you into admitting something you already knew. Was Epel this much of a shrewd person before? Regardless, his pink polished lips twisted into a chilling smile.

“I’d think you’re disgusting.”

“You think you’re so smooth, following him around and eavesdropping every time he opens his mouth to talk just to hear his voice. You’re probably the type to steal some stuff from him too, it’s creepy!” Epel said, walking over to you as you kept your head held down, ashamed to be called out like this. “That makes you no different from a crazed fan, a stalker. Vil-san already gets plenty of those, he doesn’t need another one.”

You gasped as Epel grasped your chin, his eyes remaining as dark and cruel as you remembered them before, only that this time, he was no longer smiling. “…That’s why it’s disgusting. That’s not the kind of beauty Vil-san is looking for.” He said as you tried backing away, only for him to keep on stepping forward to stay close to you. “He’ll never acknowledge someone like you.”

You yelped as Epel suddenly pushed your shoulders down, tackling you down to the ground. Grunting, you landed in a not-so gentle manner with his beautiful face hovering above you. “...But I do.” He added, a small smile reappeared in his face, it was more like a pity smile if anything else.

You were getting scared, there was fear in your eyes alone as you try to search for your way out of this situation. Epel has a small structure despite being growing man himself, the different in size between the two of you are barely even noticeable! But with that cold, intimidating gaze, it feels as if you were forced to shrunk down beneath him. “E-Epel—“ Your voice calling out his name only became an encouragement for him to move his hands freely around your body. Even when you widened your eyes as he suddenly lifted up your shirt to expose your chest.

“W-Wait— no!” You can protest all you want, but even struggling against him as a fit resilience did nothing to reach conscience. Your breath was shaking as he merely swayed your flinging arms away, already weakened by your own will, and worked his way into freeing your mounds to be groped. His hand reached the underneath the skirt that you were wearing for his party and wasted no time in reaching for your underwear. Quavering lips turned into gasps of panic as he makes its way down to your erogenous zones, his nimble fingers able to send pleasures down your body. It didn’t take too long before the realization came to you, just how serious this is, that tears began to well up in your eyes.

He took no mind to it though, you plead and beg but you were met with cold, uncaring eyes as you felt a finger sliding in pass your folds. The way you squeaked like a mouse as he bit on your breast too, it was all too insignificant to really reach his ears at all…Looking deeper in the depths of those seemingly gentle eyes, it slowly occurred to you the emotions that he was hiding underneath there. Something that you’ve never noticed until now, or something that you never really bothered to look into, even if it was just for a split second.

All this time, Epel...was angry.

“S-Stop!” As if yelling out in a demanding voice can stop him, it only made him growl in irritation as he thrusted yet another finger inside you. Your willpower was incredibly weak, your stomach was already forming a knot ready to burst out any moment just by his fingers alone. With a scissor-like motion, it’s almost like he knew where to hit you, which places would feel good and would irk you even more, he even dug deeper down your entrance to explore undiscovered places.

An orgasm was inevitable, he was surprisingly skilled with his hands and your body wasn’t able to take all of that pleasure all at once and bursts right then and there. The toll on your body it took had you writhing on the ground, sobbing at the light-headed feeling spreading inside your brain. Epel seemed satisfied though, pulling out his fingers completely to marvel at how soaked you’ve made his fingers to be. “…You’re amazing.” He said, smiling down at you as he began to shuffle in between your legs, not even letting you rest for even a minute. “This is why I like you so much.”

“Please, stop...! W-Why…Why are you doing this…!?”

He leans in, wiping the tears off your cheek as he shook his head stubbornly. “Do you still…not understand?” He said, that chilling smile on his face was making it all the more terrifying for you as he comes and undo his pants. It’s not about whether or not you understood his motive here because you already had way too much time to do that, you were just in a state of disbelief that you’re just…doing anything you can to call off this reality your experiencing at this moment. “I said it over and over again, didn’t I?”

“I like you.”

Epel then chuckled, before shaking his head as if to correct himself from his own wording. “…No, maybe that’s why you couldn't understand.” He said, his smile becoming wider and wider. “Because it’s love.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

[moldisgoodforyou]

significant upgrade

i wrote the rest of this on the plane don't come for me if there is a MISTAKE !! (however do politely shoot me a message so i can correct my typo lmao)

wordcount: 3.4k

warnings: nada except brooklyn is a BITCH, ok so maybe cursing is a warning

_________

James: SOS

Sophie

Doll

Sophie: what do you want

James: Come bar

To the bar

Sorry not sober

Sophie: I’m grading, buddy

James: No no no

DEFCON 5

Urgent

After their short back and forth, and James’ little typing bubble popped up multiple times before going away, Sophie pushed aside her work and called him. She checked Find My Friends first, feeling better about the situation once she saw Rafe’s dot at the bar with the boys. “James? Something wrong?”

“Yes. Sophie, listen, look. You gotta get here.” James told her with a little slur to his words, but what was more telling was the sheer volume on the phone call as he yelled. He was always a loud person naturally, but she swore he got ten times louder when he had an ounce of alcohol.

“I already told Rafe I couldn’t, I have to catch up on grading stuff if I want to go out tomorrow. Is something really wrong?” She questioned, but considered going anyway. She’d already graded over half the work and it was proving easier to mindlessly go through than she thought, and she could knock it out tomorrow morning if she really needed to.

“It’s like, urgent, Soph. Look, come here, wear your sluttiest top - that’s not an insult, by the way, it’s a compliment or whatever - like, empowering or some shit - shut up, Colin -”

“James -”

“I’m serious, she is not backing down -”

That caught her attention and she stood, glancing over her appearance in the mirror. “Who?”

“Just c’mere. I’ll have a drink ready for you. Are you still on that Fireball peach schnapps kick? Like a fuckin’ psycho?”

She laughed. “You drink vodka redbulls, James, shut the fuck up. I’ll be there in...uh...ten.”

“Deal. Sluttiest top!” He added before hanging up.

She rolled her eyes, looked herself over in the mirror, and shrugged. She wore an old pair of Nike shorts and a t-shirt of Rafe’s with his name on the back, an old intramural shirt. If it wasn’t senior year, and if she wasn’t locked down already, she’d probably give more of a fuck, but she just wanted to take the opportunity to hang out with her friends while she could. After swiping on a quick coat of cherry lip balm and brushing her hair, she shoved her feet into sandals and made her way to the bar.

When she arrived, she went straight to their usual corner booth and slid in next to Colin, who greeted her with a grin and a drink, as promised. James threw his arm around her shoulders and messed with her hair immediately, making her squawk in protest. “Flint, kiddo, that is not nearly as slutty as I expected.”

“The Cameron on the back adds some possession though, don’t you think?” Colin pointed out, slapping James’ hand away from her.

Sophie scowled, combing her fingers through her hair. “What am I here for?”

“Oh! Right.” James stood on his toes and scanned the bar, locating Rafe in the far corner. Rafe wore a forced smile and was leaning against the wall with a couple of the other interns from Jeni’s over the summer - including Brooklyn, who was twirling her hair and stood right next to Rafe.

Sophie stood on her tiptoes, hand on James’ shoulder for balance as she followed his gaze. “I don’t see him, what am I looking at - oh, shit.”

“Yeah, see why I told you to go for the slutty top?” James reached for her shirt, tugging at the hem until she shoved his hand away.

“No, she would have just implied I was a prostitute or something.” She shook her head and turned back to the table, then took a long sip of her drink, draining nearly half of it in one go. “I don’t want to seem, like, overbearing - I mean, she’s with the whole group.”

Colin raised his eyebrows, skeptical. “She’s touched his arm multiple times and made him link arms when they did shots earlier. Had everyone else partner up too as an excuse.”

“Exactly.” James nodded, emphatic. “I already tried to rescue him, but Colin says m’ too drunk.” He hiccuped to punctuate his statement, then pushed a plastic shot glass toward her. “Here. Got you tequila.”

She wrinkled her nose, eyeing it with a frown. “I hate tequila.”

“See! I told you!” Colin exclaimed, snatching the shot glass away and knocking it back. “If you need backup, just wave or look over or something. I’ll deck her if I need to.”

She grinned, drinking the rest of what James got her. “Thank you, both of you. I appreciate it.”

“Hey. Whoever Rafe’s dating, we’re dating too.” James proclaimed, patting her head affectionately. “Just without the fun parts.”

“Lovely.” She replied, glancing over toward Rafe again. Brooklyn was now leaning just a little closer and Sophie could practically feel the tension radiating from his body, even from all the way across the room. She frowned when the other interns seemed to agree on something, dispersing, but Brooklyn stayed.

Sophie stood there and watched for a few more moments, seemingly frozen, until Colin nudged her shoulder. “Go.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She dismissed, taking another breath before striding across the room. Of course, someone turned at the exact moment she rounded the bar, spilling their drink down her light pink shorts, soaking the entire left leg. She didn’t even let the guy apologize before she shrugged him off with a grimace and made her way toward Rafe.

He noticed her immediately out of the crowd, grinning and straightening up once he saw her. “Soph!”

She smiled at her eager boyfriend and how he always lit up upon seeing her, without fail. “Hi, baby.” She greeted, slipping her arm around his waist as he rested hers comfortably around her shoulders. She never - ever - used pet names in public, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Thought you weren’t coming out tonight?” He asked, glancing over her outfit and frowned when he realized half her shorts were wet. “What happened?”

“Grading went quicker than I expected.” She dismissed, her eyes flitting over his expression. He looked confused and she could tell from the way his eyes were glassy that he was drunk and nearly on the verge of falling asleep. “Can I try your drink?”

“Rafe, are you going to introduce me?” Brooklyn feigned a smile, fingers tightening around her own drink.

He furrowed his brow even more, looking between the two of them. “I thought you guys met. At the charity gala thing, remember? Sophie had that really pretty dress?”

“Yeah. We’ve met.” Sophie replied coolly, taking Rafe’s whiskey sour from him and took a sip. She hated them, with all her heart, but wouldn’t dare make a face in front of Brooklyn.

“Oh! Sorry, I just didn’t recognize you, you must have been wearing a ton of makeup or something at the gala.”

“She still looked like herself.” Rafe supplied, confused. He traced his thumb over Sophie’s cheekbone, staring at her in concentration before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Sophie swore she saw Brooklyn’s jaw tick as she watched the two of them, as she watched what she used to have.

“Okay, okay. Rafe, did you tell her about all the fun things we did this summer? Sophie, you were away or something, right?” Brooklyn asked, hyper-conscious of how Rafe leaned into Sophie more and how he pressed a sleepy kiss to her temple.

“Nope.” He replied, popping the p. “Nothin’ to share. The internship was kinda boring. She was in Barcelona.”

“Oh, right. Long distance wasn’t too hard on you then?” Brooklyn probed with a sympathetic smile. She reached toward Rafe to touch his arm reassuringly, then seemed to remember at the last second that Sophie was right there, and jerked her hand back like she’d been burned.

“Nah. Why?” Rafe asked, cocking his head to the side, some of his hair flopping into his eyes.

Brooklyn grinned. “I just didn’t think you’d still be together, is all.”

“That’s funny, because I’m pretty sure you follow me on Instagram. So you’d know.” Sophie shot back with an equally fake grin, determined to come out on top in the petty exchange.

She wished Rafe was more sober so he could make an excuse for them to leave or shut the whole conversation down, but when he was drunk he didn’t pick up on any tone inflections. (She’d accidentally made him upset more times than she could count with a poorly worded sarcastic insult, and immediately felt guilty as his drunken gaze gave way to his signature pout.) To an outsider, their conversation seemed as civil as possible, like three friends catching up, until you got close enough to see the bared teeth and the tense jaws.

“No...I don’t think I’d waste a follow on you.” Brooklyn retorted, glancing down to the Cartier ring on her hand. “Sophie, usually when people wear designer, they have to have the clothes to match the rest of the outfit. Not whatever…” she looked her up and down, scrutinizing her clothing choice. “...Whatever is going on here.”

“Hey.” Rafe interjected, finally noticing the hostile undertones in the conversation. “Be nice, she’s hot in whatever she’s in.”

Sophie had to resist rolling her eyes at his completely unhelpful comment. “It’s okay, Brooklyn, I actually have style, so I don’t have to rely on wearing tacky designer clothes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my boyfriend and I are going to go hang out with our friends.” She glanced over toward the boys for backup and tilted her head toward the door, and James and Colin started making their way over. Alright. So she’d handled that well, she thought, matched her energy without getting too emotional or heated -

Brooklyn wrinkled her nose at Sophie’s comment. “Careful. He gets emotional when he’s drunk.”

“He doesn’t, actually, he was probably just being manipulated by you.” Sophie shot back with a sharp tone, protectively curling her arm tighter around Rafe’s waist. He just watched the back and forth with a furrowed brow, not sober enough to keep up.

James and Colin arrived just as Brooklyn sneered at Sophie, shaking her head. “Whatever. He’ll end up drinking away his problems in private like his dad anyways.”

As Sophie’s nose flared and as she took a quick step toward Brooklyn, getting right up in her space, Colin immediately grabbed Rafe’s arm and pulled him away. “C’mon, Rafe, let’s wait for her outside.”

Rafe let himself be tugged along, but frowned as he glanced back at the girls. “She’s gonna be okay?”

“Yes. She’ll be fine.” Colin replied confidently, dragging Rafe and James out of the bar.

Sophie stood tall, eye-to-eye with Brooklyn. “Don’t say that shit about Rafe. You don’t know him like that -”

“I do, actually. I know a lot more about him than you probably realize. Has he taken you to the Bahamas yet?” Brooklyn didn’t back down at all, smirking when she saw Sophie’s expression falter for a split second. “Still no? He’s probably embarrassed.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sophie snapped, unable to come up with a better response. “Give it up, you’re not with him anymore.”

“Yeah, but I know he’s not going to keep up this little facade once we graduate college. He needs someone that can keep up with his family, that’ll do more than just hang on his arm at all the charity events.” Brooklyn smiled, taking a step back. “I’ll be there for him when you can’t hold your ground.”

“You’re delusional.” Sophie shook her head, so furious she couldn’t snap back with a sharp comeback. When Brooklyn just shrugged and lifted her drink to her lips, Sophie tipped up the bottom of it, making it splash all over Brooklyn. “Have a good night.”

“Fucking -”

Brooklyn exclaimed, but Sophie just turned on her heel and flipped her off over her shoulder as she strode out. She was fuming, practically shaking, but didn’t dare break down in front of anyone in the bar.

Colin regarded her carefully, making sure she was okay. “You good? Need me to go back in and finish the job?”

Rafe, leaning on James, seemed to finally realize she’d come out. “Baby! You’re back!”

She bit the inside of her cheek, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m okay. Thanks Colin. Need help walking these two home?”

He grinned, gesturing at the way the two boys were slumped against the wall of the bar. “Might need a little help, yeah.”

She nodded and slipped her arm around Rafe’s waist, unsurprised when he leaned into her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Alright. C’mon, Cameron, your bed awaits.”

James sighed, striding along with them. “I want a girlfriend to bring me home.”

“Too bad, you’re stuck with me for now.” Colin quipped, grabbing James’ arm when he tripped on the uneven sidewalk.

“Was she being mean?” Rafe asked with concern, reaching for her hand. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Yeah. Your ex is a bitch.” She replied bluntly, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Am I gonna have to drag you home?”

“No ma’am. I’m good. All good.” He replied quickly, though unconvincingly as he slurred his words. “There’s a chance that I might be a tiny bit drunk.”

“A tiny bit?” Colin snorted, waving his hand in front of Rafe’s face. “You and James did multiple Jagerbombs. That always does you in.” He glanced over Sophie again, concerned. “Soph. You okay?”

“Huh?” She did her best to help Rafe along and guide his 6’3” frame so he wouldn’t trip over the sidewalk or walk the wrong direction, but was running through a script in her head of all the things she wished she had said - or done - to Brooklyn.

Colin frowned. “You’re doing that thing, Rafe says you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re mad. You want me to go back in? I’ll talk to her, I swear -”

“S’true. She does.” Rafe confirmed, then finally seemed to pick up on the anger radiating from her. “Did I do something?”

“No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She reassured him quickly, then gave Colin a small smile. “It’s okay. Thank you. I just - she just -”

“Yeah. I know.” Colin nodded. “Fuck her.”

“Exactly. Fuck her.” She repeated, a little louder and a little more confident.

James whipped his head back and started walking backward for about two steps until Colin forced him to keep his eyes ahead. “Who are we fucking?”

“We’re not - James, pay attention.” Sophie sighed, urging him along.

Rafe leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of her head, then whispered - in the loudest stage-whisper possible - “I think I’m a little too drunk for fucking.”

“Rafe.”

“Yes.”

“Please shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded dutifully, hooking his arm in with hers. They made it to the boys’ house a couple minutes later and Colin shoved James onto the couch, tugged off his shoes and grabbed him a water bottle from the fridge.

“Alright. He’ll be fine here, Sophie, do you need help with the stairs?” He asked, noticing the way Rafe slumped onto her.

“Um...no. I think we got it.” She took a deep breath, her mind still racing from what Brooklyn said at the bar. “Thanks, Colin.”

“Night, you two.” He paused on the stairs, glancing back at James and then at Sophie for a moment before heading upstairs.

Sophie nodded, more to herself than anything else. “Alright. Rafe, baby, work with me on the stairs and then we can go to bed?”

“I got it, I got it. M’not that drunk.” He protested, but tripped up the first step anyways, knocking his knee against the stairs as he fell hard with a thud. “Ow!”

Without even asking, Colin was jogging back down the stairs all the way from his room in the attic, hauling Rafe up before Sophie could blink. He dragged Rafe up and into his room, ignoring his protests, and pushed him onto the bed. “Soph, you can go get ready for bed, or whatever. I’ll babysit.”

“I think I got it, Colin -” She started halfheartedly, only to be cut off by Colin just pointing at the door. She nodded gratefully and hurried into the bathroom, quickly wiping off her makeup and brushing her teeth. When she returned, she paused just outside the door to hear Colin talking to Rafe.

“Give her a break, okay? She just had to deal with your insane ex -”

“She didn’t have to -”

“She did, because you’re a fucking pushover sometimes.” Colin interjected, exasperated. “Your breath reeks, get your ass up and go brush your teeth.”

“You’re mean.” Rafe grumbled back, but got up and ambled out to the bathroom, giving Sophie a dopey grin as he passed. Colin followed him out but stopped in the doorway, acknowledging her with a nod.

Sophie looked like she was about to cry, overwhelmed by how nice he was being and the fact that someone even noticed that she was struggling a little with dealing with Brooklyn. Without a warning, she stepped forward and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you.”

He stiffened in her arms, then awkwardly patted her back after he was released from the hug. “It’s no big deal. Anything for a friend. Especially a friend that’ll stand up to that bitch.” He cracked a grin, nudging his shoulder against hers.

She laughed, rubbing her eyes quickly. “I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about her.”

“Yes. She’s awful.” Colin nodded. “You are a significant upgrade.”

“What are we upgrading?” Rafe asked as he returned from the bathroom just wearing his boxers slung low on his hips, with damp hair - even though they hadn’t heard the shower running - and his breath smelling of mint.

“Nothing, bud. Good night, you two.” Colin gave them a nod of dismissal and strode back upstairs, leaving the two once he was confident Rafe could stand on his own again.

Rafe reached out, noticing her slightly teary eyes, and affectionately stroked his hand over the top of her head. “You good, angel?”

“Just tired.” She yawned to make a show of it. “Where’d your clothes go?”

“Oh. Uh…” He glanced back to the bathroom. “I was gonna shower, but that was too much work, so I just got my hair wet.”

“...Right. Okay, bud, you need sleep.” Sophie ushered him into his room and onto the bed, then changed quickly into a spare pair of pajamas she’d left behind. When she returned to the bed and slipped under the covers next to him, he rolled over to face her, concern written all over his face.

“You’re upset.”

“Not at you.”

“But you’re still upset. Talk to me?” He stroked his thumb over her cheekbone tenderly, unsure what was going on - and honestly, the room would spin a little if he shut his eyes - but he was still conscious enough to pick up on Sophie’s feelings.

She nodded, rolling onto her back so she didn’t have to make eye contact. “It’s just - it makes me so fucking mad that you dated her. Not because of anything you did, but I just know you deserve so much better. And then she just still thinks she has any influence on you, she’s so damn condescending - ugh.” She rolled back over, frowning. “If we ever broke up I don’t think I’d ever be able to see you again.”

“You wouldn’t see me anymore?” He frowned, trying to keep up.

“No. It would hurt too much. That’s how I know she damn well didn’t love you like she should have.” She insisted, eyes bright again as she ranted. “She fucked up by letting you go, you’re a fucking catch, Rafe. I’m sorry she didn’t realize your worth.”

He blushed and pulled her close, nudging his nose against hers before kissing her. “You wanna repeat that again tomorrow when I’m sober? So I make sure I remember?” He had a joking tone, but seemed a little unsure too.

“Absolutely. I’ll tell you that every damn day if I need to.” She kissed him back, heatedly, as if to emphasize her point. “I love you. You’re mine and I love you.”

“M’ yours.” He confirmed with a sleepy nod, not nearly reciprocating the kiss as hard as hers. “My favorite girl.”

She pulled away, peppering kisses over his nose and cheeks before resting her head on his chest. “Good night, baby. Don’t you dare throw up in bed.”

He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes. “I won’t. Sweet dreams, Soph.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46

[baubabble]

“Diamonds and Dances” Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer used to date at the Academy. When you graduated, you broke it off. Later, when you are assigned to the BAU, old feelings resurface. When Hotch assigns the two of you to go undercover together at an event, how will those feelings evolve?

Word Count: 5258

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Cherry” by Harry Styles

Note: My first attempt at writing Spencer! Thank you for all the love on my Hotch series!

-------

“If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.”― Kahlil Gibran

The case had finally hit a dead end.

You and the rest of the team were sitting in the Los Angeles FBI Field Office, staring at the ceiling. Four couples had been brutally murdered at local events over the past sixth months and so far, the local agents had nothing. When Garcia was given the request for assistance, Hotch had taken the case immediately.

You had been at the BAU for more than a year now and you had never been this frustrated. You could tell that the more seasoned agents such as Morgan and Rossi were just as annoyed that no leads were surfacing as well.

Spinning lazily in your chair, your eyes fell on Reid as they usually did. Spencer Reid was the one that got away in more ways than one. You and the doctor had met at the Academy and instantly hit it off. The two of you had dated for almost a year before you had broken it off. Spencer was going to the BAU and you were going to sex crimes. It was just the way it had to be. You were happy to make a clean break rather than trying to tackle a complicated relationship.

That is until Strauss had requested you to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had been hesitant at first for many reasons. Then, Aaron Hotchner had called you personally and encouraged you to take the position. He was aware of your history with Reid and said he would do his best to make sure the environment was as professional as possible.

Which is how you found yourself at a crossroads with your current case. “I’m about to shove pencils in my eyes,” Garcia said from beside you. Penelope had been asked to join the team on this case due to the unsub’s signature at hacking into security systems and traffic cams.

“You too?” you asked, turning to her.

“My brain has never felt tired before,” Garcia said. “Is this normal?”

“I think we all need some rest, Baby Girl,” Derek said as he rolled over to Penelope and began massaging her shoulders. You watched the action with a hint of envy. There was too much going on inside your head for anything right now. Pushing back from the table, you stood up.

“I need some air,” you announced and headed out of the conference room. The team watched after you for a moment before returning to their work, except one member’s eyes remained fixed on your exit.

------

Spencer Reid was the best problem solver the team had.

He never had problems with finding the missing puzzle piece in the case or analyzing a criminal’s motives. However, there was one problem, he couldn’t quite crack.

You.

Reid had never gotten over your breakup. He sat awake for nights after you had broken it off trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He had confided in everyone he knew. His mother said that you just weren’t the right person for him, but Spencer disagreed. You were perfect for him, perfect for each other. He didn’t know what went wrong. One day the two of you had been smiling, laughing, and then it was like a switch had flipped and you just ended it.

Then when you had joined the BAU, hope reentered Spencer’s mind. Perhaps this was a chance to tell you how he felt and maybe even rekindle something from years before. However, those thoughts were quickly dismissed when he overheard a conversation you were having with Penelope about a man named Robbie, your new boyfriend.

Watching the way your face lit up when you spoke about the new man in your life felt like ice to his heart. He remembered when you used to look like that when you spoke about him and now it was reserved for someone else. Shortly after this, he had confided in JJ about the issue, finally expressing his thoughts to another member of the team.

“It’s been years, Spence,” JJ had told him, rubbing his back affectionately as he sat on her couch watching Henry play with a new toy Will had bought him. “It’s normal for people to move on.”

“But I haven’t,” Spencer had said. “I haven’t, JJ, and I don’t know if I can handle seeing her every day and knowing she’s with someone else.”

“Who knows,” JJ had said, “maybe the universe will be in your favor.”

“You know I don’t believe in any of that.”

“Maybe just this once you can,” JJ had said before squeezing his arm and then dropping the subject altogether.

------

You stood out on the terrace of the field office, listening to the bustling city around you.

You never liked Los Angeles. It wasn’t like DC, there were too many people, too many skyscrapers, and the grating sound of traffic always made you want to scream. When you were working in sex crimes, you would head to the roof when things got too complicated to try and clear your mind. Most of the time it would work, other times, such as now, would just make you more irritated.

“You know, I’m not sure the air in this city is the best for clearing your head,” Hotch said as he exited out onto the terrace. You smiled to yourself as you stared out at the City of Angels.

“Did Penelope tell you to check on me?” you asked as he joined you at the railing.

“Maybe,” Hotch said with a shrug. “Are you okay?”

“Just frustrated,” you explained. “It’s been a while since we’ve been at such a big roadblock.”

“I wasn’t referring to the case, (Y/N),” Hotch said with a knowing look. You sighed, turning to look at him. “I’ve noticed you’ve seemed out of sorts for the past couple of weeks.”

“Which means the rest of the team has too,” you figured.

“Maybe, but they won’t confront you about it.”

“But you will?” you asked, amused.

“I’m your boss, it’s my job,” Hotch said. You smiled at that. “I’ve just seen a change in you and I’m assuming it is to do with your personal life.”

“Isn’t it always?” you asked with a chuckle. “I’m okay, Hotch. Just going through the awkward phase that happens after a breakup.” Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Ah, you and your boyfriend ended things,” he realized.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Especially at work,” you said with a look that conveyed more than the words you were saying.

“I completely understand,” said Hotch. “On the brighter side, I think we may have an idea on how to draw the unsub out.”

“Am I going to like it?” you asked. Hotch grimaced. “I’ll take that as a no.”

-------

You were right, you definitely didn’t like it.

“Undercover?” you asked as you leaned against the wall of the conference room. Spencer sat in his chair across the room from you, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s the best idea we’ve been able to come up with,” Rossi said, “plus, with your work in sex crimes, you have the most undercover hours next to Emily.” You held your tongue before you could suggest why Emily just couldn’t do it. “You are the unsub’s type and so is Reid. If we are correct about the profile and where he is hitting next, the two of you should be the perfect lure.”

When Hotch and Rossi explained that you and Spencer would be going undercover as a married couple to the next charity event in hopes of finally catching Daniel Hill, the unsub, you were less than thrilled. This would not be your first time going undercover, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that you would have to pretend to be married to Spencer and by the looks of it, he seemed even less than thrilled about the situation.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Hotch asked, glancing between you and Reid.

“No, Sir,” you said and Spencer shook his head.

“It may be a little bit awkward with (Y/N)’s boo,” Morgan joked and Penelope kicked him under the table. When you didn’t laugh, Derek realized what the look on your face meant. “Oh…(Y/L/N), I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing off the wall. “Robbie and I are done. It’s been done for a bit now and I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with so none of us have to stay in this city any longer.”

“Amen to that,” Emily said.

“I’m going to send debrief packets to your hotel rooms,” Hotch said. “The event is tonight so I need you to be ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you and Spencer said at the same time. Hotch then dismissed the rest of you and you headed for the door, needing to get back to the hotel and start preparing for the evening. Spencer caught up to you as you walked through the office.

“Hey,” he said, pulling you to a stop, “are you going to be okay with this?”

“Yes, Spencer,” you said. “It’s our job and we’ll get it done.”

“I know, but we haven’t really worked closely together since you joined and to put on an undercover operation like this…” he trailed off, but you could tell what he was thinking. You always could.

“Spencer,” you said softly, “do me a favor, okay?”

“Anything.”

“For the next ten hours or so, let’s not be (Y/N) and Spencer. I agree that we have never truly talked about what happened between us since I joined the team, but tonight is not the time. I want to, I do, but we need to get through this night. So, until we get this son of a bitch, we are just two agents on a mission. No baggage. Deal?” Spencer let out a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he mulled over your words. Eventually, he nodded.

“Deal.”

-----

The undercover packet had arrived just as you stepped out of the shower.

It was a basic cover. You and Spencer would be attending the event as Mr. and Mrs. Kelling, a wealthy couple from Maine. Your alias, Miranda Kelling, was nothing like you and that was how you preferred it. The more you could distance yourself from an undercover mission, the better. Spencer was playing Anderson Kelling and he was the president of a tech conglomerate that Garcia was writing up now. At least he would be able to cover for the both of you if anyone asked any questions.

A little bit later, a knock came at your door, and you were met with a smiling Penelope. In her hands was a white garment bag. “Please tell me it’s not pink,” you said as you let her in.”

“Oh, please,” Garcia scoffed. “You act as if I don’t know you at all. Undercover or not, I know you would never wear pink.” You laughed quietly as Garcia laid the bag out on the bed and unzipped it.

The dress was simple. A dark eggplant color that was low in the back and high at the neck. The slit was tasteful and knowing Garcia, it would fit you perfectly. However, while it was beautiful, your heart jumped just looking at it. The color of the gown was the same color as the dress you had worn on your first date with Spencer when he had taken you to a film festival. Whether Penelope knew that or not, didn’t matter. You knew it would matter to him.

“Do you like it?” Garcia asked. You nodded, unable to speak. “I can get something else if you don’t.”

“Penelope, it’s great,” you said, “really. Please tell me you have shoes to go with it.” Garcia then smiled and held up the other bag in her hands.

“Strappy or pumps?” she asked, shaking the bag before you. You gave in and laughed along with your friend as you let her accessorize you for the gala.

It was another hour before Garcia left to meet up with Morgan and JJ who were outfitting their security van that would be parked in the loading zone of the venue. The next time someone knocked on your door. You knew who it would be.

Pulling the door open, Spencer stood there with his hands in his pockets and his signature smile. You stepped aside and he entered, looking around the room awkwardly. “Did you read through the packet?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Twice,” you assured him. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I did my homework?” you asked, amusement in your eyes. He rolled his eyes and you could tell he was starting to loosen up a bit more.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same side for the cover,” he explained “And to give you this,” he said as he dug into his pocket and produced a small velvet box.

“Ah,” you said, realizing what it was. He handed it to you and you took it quickly, placing it down next to the necklace Garcia had brought for you to wear. You didn’t want to open it in front of Reid. Everything was already awkward enough. “So, Mr. Kelling,” you began, “tell me about your company.”

The two of you went back and forth asking questions about each other’s covers. Pretending to be other people was actually helping you talk to him. Thinking of him as this imaginary husband was much easier than staring into those warm brown eyes and seeing the man who once held you like you were the most important thing in the universe.

“You know,” Spencer said as he lay on his back on your bed, “Morgan was supposed to do this with you.”

“Derek? Undercover as a tech guy?” you asked with a laugh. Reid sat up and looked at you as you sat at the small table, your file in your hands. He smiled softly as you chuckled. “That would have been something to see.”

“Maybe next time,” Spencer said. “You know, once he’s had more time to prepare. Hotch asked me because I didn’t have to do any additional research. I would have said no, but we need to find this guy and since we’ve already gotten his accomplice, I just thought—”

“Spencer,” you said, cutting him off, “you’re running on fumes.” He took a breath. That was something you always said when he started rambling when he got nervous. It was also something he did when he was avoiding what he was actually saying.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, “but just for the record, I’m not upset you were assigned to do this mission with me.”

“You’re not?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Nope,” you said and it was the truth. In fact, you were just incredibly nervous about being this close to him for the first time in years. “So stop stressing. Everything is going to work out fine.” You got up and approached him. You gripped him by the shoulders and looked at him in the eye. “Now, go put on your tux so we can get this bastard.”

------

You stood in front of the floor-length mirror as you fussed with the gown.

Garcia sure did know how to pick ballgowns. The deep purple dress fit you perfectly. Paired with the nude heels and the light jewelry, you looked as expensive as Miranda Kelling was supposed to be. The large diamond sat on your left hand felt way too heavy. You lifted your hand to your face, tilting it so the diamond glittered in the low light.

When you had first lifted the lid to the box, your eyes had widened at the sheer size of the diamond. Apparently Rossi knew someone in LA with ties to a jeweler and you were renting the piece for the evening. Just placing it on your finger felt...wrong. And not just because of the price,  but because you imagined the first time you wore a wedding ring it would on your actual wedding day and not for a sting.

The thought of Spencer having a matching band on his left hand sent a thrill through you that you weren’t expecting. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it in the past. When the two of you were together at the academy, the subject of marriage had come up frequently. It was always said with a bout of laughter afterward. Neither of you had ever said anything to make the other think that you were being serious, but at times, you definitely were. Snapping out of your thoughts, you finished your look with a swipe of lipstick and then headed for the door.

Stepping out into the lobby of the garish hotel, you spotted Rossi immediately. He was dressed as a chauffeur as he would be the one to take you and Reid to the event to keep up appearances. Walking around the corner, you finally saw your date for the evening. Spencer wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo. His hair was combed and his shoes shined in the glittering light of the chandelier that swung above him. Hearing the clicks of your heels, he turned towards you and his mouth fell open.

He quickly controlled his expression, but you had seen it. The look in his eyes as he beheld you strolling towards him. It was a familiar look, one he had given you in the past and everything began flooding back. You tried to ignore it as you joined him and Rossi. “This is all very ‘James Bond’,” you said, looking at the three of you.

“Well, just go easy on the martinis you two,” Rossi said with a small smile. Then from his pocket, he produced a white rose. “Morgan got the partner to talk and he agreed to help if we offered him a deal. He made the call and told Hill that the target this evening will be with a beautiful woman and wearing this on his jacket,” Rossi said as he tucked the rose into Spencer’s lapel.

“Great, nothing says ‘murder me’ like a rose,” Spencer muttered as he adjusted the flower. You smiled to yourself at his attempt at a joke. Rossi was watching both you, his eyes flickering back and forth.

“Just stick to the plan and this will all be over before you know it,” Rossi said as he gestured you out to the car. You and Reid followed him, neither of you saying anything. You had expected it to be awkward, but this felt...alien. It was also starting to become clear why Hotch had assigned you to this mission with Spencer. He most likely figured you wouldn’t have to do much acting, but seeing him dressed up and with that wedding band on his finger, you felt as if you were looking at a stranger. You had no idea how you were going to make it through the evening.

-----

Arriving at the venue, Rossi helped you from the car, giving your arm a final squeeze before leaving you in Spencer’s capable hands.

As Rossi drove away, Reid held out his arm to you. Slipping into the character of Miranda Kelling, you took his arm and smiled at him warmly. Spencer, or rather, Anderson, smiled back and led you into the venue.

The party was fit for Los Angeles. The garish decorations were shiny metallic and smartly dressed waiters milled around with flutes of champagne. The other patrons were dressed just as well as the two of you and as they laughed, more champagne was poured and more money was spent. You weren’t even sure what charity they were supporting at the event.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to pick up on any agents, but Hotch had said nobody was going to be on the floor except for the two of you. Hill was too smart and would pick them out in a heartbeat.

You and Spencer walked around the room, keeping close to one another. As a waiter passed by, you grabbed a flute off the tray and drank half in one go. The liquid courage did nothing to satiate the nerves that bubbled in your stomach. As you finished your drink, you looked for another, but Spencer had stepped in front of you, giving you a concerned look.

“What?” you asked, keeping your face pleasant in case the unsub or others were watching.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I know you aren’t thrilled to be with me tonight, but I can also tell that something else is bothering you.”

“Very perceptive,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “Look, I can’t talk to you about this right now.” He sighed and then took your hand. To anyone else, it would just look like a husband holding his wife’s hand, but you knew he was feeling for your pulse point. Something he always did when he wanted you to tell him the truth. It was both charming and infuriating.

“Is this about Robbie?” Spencer asked and your hand froze in his grip. He nodded to himself as he realized he had finally guessed right. “He never deserved you.” You took your hand back and tried to walk away. However, Spencer had another idea. Gently taking your wrist, Reid pulled you to the dance floor, spinning you into his arms.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you played along, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his right hand. The two of you swayed back and forth in silence for a moment before he finally spoke again. “You look so beautiful,” he said softly.

“Spencer,” you sighed, dropping your gaze to the buttons on his shirt, “please don’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You know why,” you said, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you as if you were the only person in the room and it took you back to the first time you had danced with him.

It was at an event the Academy hosted for the new recruits. The two of you had just met during orientation and he had been bold enough to ask you to dance when he noticed you sitting by yourself at a lone table. Both of you had been very awkward on your feet, but you had managed to get a rhythm going and among all the laughter and stepping on toes, it had been the first step in developing feelings for the man before you.

“I noticed the color of your dress as soon as you walked into the lobby,” Spencer said, his fingers curling tighter around your own. “I always did love you in purple.” Ducking your head, you rested your forehead against his chest, just trying not to think about his hand on your waist or the fact that he was wearing the same cologne he always did. The one that smelled like wood and parchment. Reid pulled you in closer, his hand moving to the small of your back.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered.

“I don’t want you to think about him,” Reid said, turning you both in a slow circle, “because I can’t do it anymore.” Pulling back, you looked up at him with curious eyes.

“Do what?” you asked.

“All those months when you were with him… seeing you smile when you and Garcia spoke about him or when he would drop flowers off for you at the office,” Spencer sighed. “I couldn’t handle it, (Y/N).” Hearing that confession slip from his lips made you stumble in your heels. He kept his hands tight on you, keeping you steady. Just as he always had. “I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Your eyes fell closed at his words and every emotion you had tried to shove down since the day the two of you had parted ways came surging back into the forefront of your mind. Spencer Reid was looking at you as if you hung the moon and while he would probably say something along the lines of ‘that’s impossible, a human wouldn’t be able to hang the moon’, that was what you saw in his eyes.

“Don’t you remember?” he continued.

“Spencer…” you said, but he couldn’t stop.

“My mom, (Y/N),” he said. “Don’t you remember how much she loves you? You were one of the only people who could keep her calm and she loved to tell you stories about the things she’s learned over the years. I remember everything about our time together.”

“You have an eidetic memory,” you reminded him.

“That’s not the reason I remember,” he said, placing his hand under your chin. You couldn’t help the tears that pricked your eyes at his words. At that moment, the mission was forgotten and everything was moving in slow motion. “Tell me, (Y/N),” he said, “tell me that you don’t love me, Tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t do that,” you whispered. A small gasp escaped him at your confession and it was as if his entire body relaxed at your words. Spencer leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, drinking you in. The orchestra in the background played a score fit for the moment and if you weren’t supposed to be on duty, you would have stayed in that moment forever. Spencer pulled back and glanced down at your lips, but before either of you could move in closer, you spotted a man watching the two of you.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.

“Hill,” you whispered, plastering a fake smile on your face as you looked up at your fake husband. “He’s dressed as a caterer. The long scar on his cheek is just as the partner said. Looks like Morgan’s interrogation techniques are getting better.” Spencer took you and spun you around so he could get a visual, glancing briefly before grinning down at you. He then lifted your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Shall we go somewhere more private, Mrs. Kelling?” he asked and you nodded, taking him by the hand and dragging him towards the service hall. Everything in you was fighting to stay focused as you slipped back into your FBI persona. With Spencer’s confession, work was the last thing you wanted to do, but this man had killed enough people and the two of you were the last chance to take him down.

You and Reid pushed into the hallway, giggling like drunk teenagers.

You stumbled on your dress and he held you up, pulling on his bow tie. It didn’t take long for the killer to follow. You and Spencer were pressed against a wall, Reid’s hands going into your hair. He smiled down at you and slinked away as if you were playing a game. When he went to follow you, that’s when you were grabbed from behind.

“Move and she dies,” Hill said, waving his gun around. Spencer raised his hands in mock surrender and then he looked at you. “On your knees!” Hill yelled, but Spencer didn’t move. With a quick nod to you, you slammed your stiletto into the top of his foot. A shot rang out as the bullet pierced the ceiling, but you both moved faster. Spencer grabbed hold of the unsub as you took the gun from his grasp. Reid spun Hill around and slammed him into the floor.

“FBI,” Spencer said, “Daniel Hill, you are under arrest for the murders of Caitlin and Adam Dever, Brooke and Ryan Wood, Joanne and James Black, and Greta and Lewis Joy…” as Spencer continued to read him his rights, you disabled the gun and let out a deep breath. From your right, Hotch and Prentiss came running down the hall, their guns were drawn. JJ and Morgan weren’t far behind.

As Spencer got Hill to his feet, you turned and walked away. There was too much going on inside your mind and you had to get air. Walking past, Morgan, you placed the confiscated gun into his hands as you continued to move past your team. You could hear Reid calling out to you, but you couldn’t stop moving. You just needed to think.

-----

Once everything had calmed down, you all went back to your respective hotel rooms.

As soon as your door closed behind you, your heels were off and you headed right for the balcony. Garcia had texted you earlier and told you Hill would be processed and that Rossi and Emily had gotten a full confession out of him and his partner. That was enough for you to relax a little bit further, but there was still the issue of what happened before.

Then, as if the universe was listening there was a knock on your door. Pulling the sliding door behind you, you went to your door. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. Unlocking the chain, you pulled open the door and were met with Spencer. He was still wearing his disheveled tuxedo, but his hair was no longer neat. It was how he always wore, the way you loved it. In his hand was a single yellow lily, your favourite flower.

You stepped aside and invited him in, closing the door quietly behind you. “You just left,” he said as you turned to face him. His long fingers were holding the flower by its stem, twirling it around.

“I just needed time, Spencer.”

“I know,” he said with a soft smile and then offered you the flower. You took it, pressing its petals to your nose. “I know how you think (Y/N), which is why I waited a bit before showing up here.”

“You always did know me best,” you said as you lay the lily on the stand by the door.

“I still like to think I do,” he said, reaching for your hand. You let him take it as you had earlier on the dance floor. He dragged you towards him, placing his hands on your hips gently. “You are so incredible,” he whispered.

“I never cared about him as much as I cared for you, Spencer,” you admitted. “When I broke things off after we graduated from the Academy, I thought I was doing us a favor. I thought it would be too complicated, that we would struggle with the time apart. I was so wrong. I am so sorry that I didn’t believe in us enough to stay.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks at this point and Spencer was shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize, (Y/N),” he said. “I understand. I think I always did, but I meant what I said earlier: I never stopped loving you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“And you think I did?” you asked. “God, Spencer, I love you so much and I should have told you the moment I walked into the BAU.” Spencer’s face split into a grin and he didn’t even hesitate to pull you into him. His lips met yours and your hands wound into his unruly hair. Light burst behind your eyes as the two of you finally said hello once again. Spencer Reid was the one for you and you would never doubt that ever again.

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”― Paulo Coelho

[skunked-up-kicks]

About Allison yeah. I think people acknowledge she’s a bit ableist and classist but they erase the fact she was fine/complicit with Seth’s homophobia and treatment of Nicky (tbh it seems like all the upperclassmen were??) + what that post said. This isn’t hate I love Allison! But I think she’s much more interesting as a character with flaws that make sense with her upbringing and backstory rather than just #girlboss.

okay my response to this is ungodly long so, if you're interested...

1. her ableism

the thing is when people do acknowledge her ableism it's always with how she treats andrew (which makes sense cause it's the most obvious, and they're not wrong) but it kinda results in an issue. the way these fics that acknowledge this usually go is that allison calls andrew 'monster' and maybe talks about how he's 'psychotic' or something. then it goes one of few ways:

1) neil tells her (and usually all the upperclassmen as they get grouped together seeing as they all do this) not to speak about andrew like that, maybe he threatens her or something. the problem with this is that he's just scaring her into being silent, her mindset doesn't actually change.

2) neil gives a speech about how andrew is actually good, and generally how he's 'not as bad as she thinks' or something. now correct me if i'm wrong, but the issue i see with this is that, it's not actually telling her that her mindset about people with mental illnesses and/or trauma is wrong- just that andrew isn't the right person to direct her ableism too, but there are people out there who are 'as bad as she thinks'. it's kinda like the attitude that as long as andrew does enough to redeem himself he can be treated as human and not a 'monster' which is... yeah.

3) basically the same issue as the last one, andrew proves he's actually good because allison and the others see him do something outwardly affectionate. thereby proving he is actually all good now.

sometimes fics have a mix of these but basically the thing is that her ableism is never actually 'fixed' (for lack of a better word). most that happens is that it's no longer directed at andrew, but this is a worldview that she has, it's not just a dislike of andrew- realistically it's not just isolated to him.

to clarify though, i'm genuinely not intending to shame people who write these fics cause they are acknowledging her ableism, which is good. and similar with how people approach aarons homophobia, it's incredibly hard to write someone overcoming a prejudice. i certainly couldn't do it, and realistically maybe it's not somethìng that can be done in a fic. given that often it's a long-term process where you have to check yourself often.

it's especially complicated because she somehow needs to come to the realization that villifying andrew isn't right because despite the wrong that he has done- and he has done wrong, we can't deny that- he is still a person deserving of at least the deceny to not be compared to a monster and dehumanised in that way. she needs to realise that while andrew shouldn't do those things and can be called out for it, that the way he acts is a product of his trauma. BUT he is still responsible for his actions, and while she can rightfully choose to not associate with andrew, she shouldn't discourage others from doing so in the way that she does. it really is complicated and there's a lot of nuance there which makes it a hard topic to deal with cause... how do you write someone learning that?

but yeah, that's my thoughts on that.

2. her classism

i honestly don't see people acknowledge this a lot? i think one of the ways we see it manifest is how she talks about the way neil dresses... and in fics she often insists neil buys better clothes, usually more expensive ones. which is portrayed usually as her being a caring friend, which i get, but i think neil would actually find this really annoying lol.

i think an interesting way to look at her classism would be in her and dans relationship given the extreme differences they grew up. same thing with her relationship with seth, as he grew up poor too.

with seth, she might have sometimes been ashamed of the way he acted and dressed, maybe of the way he spoke too...? i can picture them fighting over that and her being a bitch about it. she would probably speak badly about the place seth grew up in too..

with dan, i feel like dan might get frustrated when allison, for example, doesn't know how much ordinary things cost (a thing a lot of celebs have shown to have no knowledge of). or dan might even get jealous or angry at the way allison can just throw away her moneyvand buy things carelessly (think of her reaction when her car got trashed, she could just get another 'toy'), while she was brought up saving money at any instance she could.

not much to say on this tbh... i think it would be cool to see this explored a bit more though.

3. complicit in homophobia

someone made a post on here about how allison would be the type of girl to preach equality while having a homophobic boyfriend... and yeah.. that's it really lol, hit the nail on the head.

again, a lot of people make her very progressive and woke, and i think this is tied to the very common hc of her being bi. (despite the fact that when betting on neils sexuality she doesn't consider bi an option which makes me think she is canonically straight..). i think it's hard for people to address the fact that she is complicit in homophobia while also headcanonning her as bi, cause it seems like she wouldn't be if she actually was bi. from my knowledge, bi women (and bi ppl in general) not being supportive of gay people and/or not standing up against homophobia isn't really a common issue? (pls correct me if i am wrong though) usually prejudice goes the other way due to the biphobia in the LGBTQ+ community. so it's hard to think about and write about.

when it comes to the other upperclassmen, i seem to remember dan and matt standing up against seth? though i could be remembering that wrong or getting it confused with a fic.

4. #girlboss

i highly agree with you that she really does just get reduced to just a #girlboss a LOT. and i think the same thing happens with the other female characters... i mean, just look at katelyn. there's no evidence that she is some kind of badass but many want to make her one.. but she can be an interesting character without having to fit this ideal #girlboss.

i understand wanting to make female characters cool and badass but in the process it feels like we're losing variety... i personally don't want the exact same personality and way of acting plastered onto every female character.

a strong female character is not defined by how much they can kick a guy in the balls but rather how well they are written, and to be written well they need flaws. and when making female characters #girlbosses we usually lose the flaws :(

like you said, this isn't to hate on allison. i just think sometimes we miss the parts of her character that make her truly interesting.. and i think that's a real shame..

anyway, i think that that's all that i had to say lol. if you read up till this point, thank you! and thank you for the ask anon :)

[yandere-daydreams]

What about Oikawa stealing Ushiwaka’s darling. Not because he wants the darling, but because he wants to take away Ushiwaka’s whole world, same way Ushiwaka stole his in volleyball.

He seems like the type to hold on to grudges, doesn’t he? He’s so vengeful, so quick to spite, and Ushijima wouldn’t know not to show off his precious, vulnerable little Darling… It’d be a recipe for disaster, if their leash ever fell into the wrong hands.

Title: Nostalgia. 

TW: Violence, Physical Abuse (Past and Present), Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Kidnapping, Implied Harassment, and Mentions of Starvation.

~

To be fair, you’d known Oikawa first.

Or, you’d known of him, at least. You’d been peers, teenagers who just so happened to be students at the same school with a handful of shared classes and enough small, polite interactions to warrant a shy smile on your part or the occasional use of a playful nickname, on Oikawa’s. He was a familiar face, a name that brought up a few fond memories, but you hadn’t bothered to stay in contact. You’d always thought he was too affectionate for your taste, and he thought you were too reluctant to warrant a genuine effort, not that you minded - hell, you hadn’t even thought about him after highschool. In comparison, Ushijima was a friend, a companion, a lover. Your conversations hadn’t stopped at shallow niceties, and there hadn’t been a need for polite greetings, not when his was the last face you saw before you fell asleep at night, when his were the first lips you kissed when you woke up in the morning. Oikawa had been first, but Ushijima had been yours. Even after things got bad, after things got ugly, you’d still known him, and even if you hadn’t loved him by then, you’d felt enough betrayal to be sure that you had, once. That’s not something you could say, about Oikawa.

That’s something you would never get to say, about Oikawa.

You wondered if he still thought of himself as your savior, your guardian, your protector, all the pretty, indulgent things you’d called him after he first whisked you away from Ushijima, from Japan entirely, and gave you an allowance and a room in his villa and an assurance that you’d be welcome to stay until you got back onto your feet, until Ushijima stopped looking for the partner who managed to disappear in the space between one game and another. The first had been discarded as soon as you’d tried to turn down the third, and now, the second was less a gift and more of an obligation, something you didn’t want but couldn’t turn down, not unless you wanted to see how strong a setter’s arms really were. Your last attempt to get away was still fresh in your mind, still painted over your skin in the form of dark, splotching bruises, crawling down your spine and across the backs of your arms, forcing you to pull your sleeves a little lower as the deadbolt on your door clicked into place, your door creaking open a moment later.

You didn’t have to look up to know how it was. It wasn’t like Oikawa would ever let anyone visit you, not when he was so determined to keep you to himself.

“Thinking about me, beautiful?” Even if you looked away, kept your eyes trained on your comforter and your hands curled around the stiff fabric, his voice was unignorable, throaty and low and arrogant, as impossible not to hear as his touch was to feel, the latter coming in the form of a gentle nudge to your shoulder as he walked by, dropping his gym-bag somewhere near your dresser as he always did, after he got home from a long day of drills and practice matches. He had his own room, or, he had somewhere to spend the night when you proved too temperamental to sleep next to, but he seemed to prefer yours, his possessions outnumbering your own, even in a space that was supposed to be yours. That, or he just wanted to make sure you’d never forget whose thumb you’re living under. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging,” He added, when you stayed quiet for a beat too long, when you wasted another dear moment you could've spent worshiping the ground he walked on. “You already know what I want to hear.”

“I don’t have much to think about,” You admitted, scowling while Oikawa was too preoccupied with prying off the jacket of his track-suit to notice the small display of rebellion. “You took away my books, before you left.”

“And your consoles, and your notebooks, and all the toys and luxuries and shiny things I’ve given you, all of which you’ve never thanked me for, by the way.” This time, he bothered to turn towards you, to idly wave you over the side of the bed with a sympathetic, synthetic smile. You knew better than to disobey him so blatantly, but that didn’t stop you from flinching as he reached down, cupping your face with both hands and leaning down just enough to push a soft, fleeting kiss into the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair as he went on. “And you know why I had to take them away, don’t you?”

You did. Oikawa tended to justify himself, whether or not you wanted to listen. “Because I tried to escape?”

“Because you tried to do something you’d regret,” He corrected, pinching your cheek. “This is a deterrent, and necessary one, to make sure you have time to reconsider what you tried to do. If you get out, you’ll go home, and if you go home, you’ll be running right into Ushiwaka’s arms. You’ll be making everything you’ve done so far pointless, you’ll be making everything I’ve done for you pointless. That doesn’t sound very fair, does it?”

“It doesn’t sound like something you should have a say in,” You retorted, unable to keep the aggression from working its way into your voice, seeping into your words like a venom you should really, really choke down. In response, he moved to pinch your cheek again, but you were quick to bat his hand away, stubborn reflex rising over common sense. You didn’t want him to touch you. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, and suddenly, that seemed more important than what might happen if you tried to force him away. “It sounds like it should be my choice, not yours, and it sounds like you’re trying to take that away from me.”

“This is why I need to take it away from you.” This time, it didn’t seem like he was trying to comfort you. It was an explanation, a fact, something you should nod and accept and believe just because it’d be a little more convenient or Oikawa, if you did. “It’s just not what you’re made for. Ushiwaka did too much damage, I can’t expect you to fend for yourself, just yet. But that’s why I’m here, alright? I just need to make sure you don’t do anything you’ll--”

“Wakatoshi used to say he was trying to take care of me,” You mumbled, pressing your curled fists against your thighs. “He said that when he broke my phone, and told my friends I didn’t want to see them anymore, and drained my savings accounts. He said it was all for my protection. He said he was trying to help me.”

“But I’m not like him,” Oikawa assured, but his voice was strained, now, forced out through gritted teeth. “I promise, everything I do, I do because I have to--”

“He said that, too. He said it a lot, when he locked me in the basement, when he waited until I was begging to be let out to bother bringing me something to eat.” You paused, letting out a dry, humorless laugh. It was that, or give in to the tears slowly building up in the corners of your eyes, just beginning to blur your vision. “It’s funny. When you first flew off the fucking handle, I kept telling myself ‘at least this one remembers to feed me’. That became ‘at least I’ll always have dinner’, and then ‘at least he doesn’t do it on purpose’. Still, Wakatoshi never hit me. He was rough, sometimes, but he never hit me. Not you, though. Wakatoshi would try to calm me down when I was upset, but when I fuck up around you, you just keep hitting me, and hitting me, and hitting--”

You should’ve been expecting it. Oikawa was terribly predictable, and you should’ve been expecting it.

And yet, that didn’t stop you from screaming as his calloused palm made contact with your cheek.

It was a righteous kind of pain, a fulfilling pain, the kind that reminded you that this was how things were, now, that things were how things always were, even if Ushijima’s violence wasn’t as easily provoked. Oikawa’s actions were all purposeful, all conscious, unforgiving and harsh and ruthless as he wrapped your hair around his fist and bent you over, forcing your face into the mattress, mercilessly ignorant to the way you writhed under his weight and struggled to breathe against sheets and material and so, so much anger, it was hard to believe he hadn’t managed to suffocate you, yet. “Ungrateful bitch,” He spat, his free hand already reaching for something to make your lesson stick, something to make your lesson hurt. “I’ll show you what he would do, if you talked to him like that. By the time I’m done, you’ll be crying for me to make you forget about that bastard.”

That was right. That was so, so much better. It always felt better, when he stopped trying to be nice, when he let himself be cruel. You didn’t enjoy it, but you were grateful for it. You cherished it.

It helped you remember why you’d always kept a safe distance between you and him, back in highschool.

[dearest-kibble]

yan kenma who has you locked up in his apartment- it’s been some time and you’ve given up escaping but you know he live-streams so you kind of start living small clues that you’re there in hope someone will figure it out? but instead of a viewer kenma finds out; and instead of stopping you he just decides to taunt you and play along to the point his viewers make it an inside joke- the emotional rollercoaster that would be? he wouldn’t have to punish you- the crushing despair is enough alone

This is so deliciously fucked up I love it,,, thank you anon, Kenma hits so different. I love him thank you so so so much. i am working on so much,,, thank you for being patient with all my uhhh lateness? this kinda became something a little different than the prompt but hopefully thats good?

Kenma Kozume x Fem reader

tw: Typical yandere-ness, humiliation? Sexism? Mentioned stalking, (If im missing anything please let me know my brain isn’t functioning rn)

You’re sitting on his lap, camera angled so that no one’s view is obstructed by your body, but so that all his views can clearly see you. You’ve been here so long, any hope of leaving, ironically, has left you. But, the thought crept slowly, surely, deeply into your brain and hasn’t left. You turn around on Kenma’s lap, straddling him and you’re sure the live chat is going a little crazy at the thought of Kodzuken having someone in his lap while he streams and he’s probably going to tell you to get off soon, but you’ve got the chat’s attention, and you are going to work with it. You tap Kenma’s cheeks, slight squish on them and you know he hates that it’s on camera all the same, you drum three fingers on his cheek, smiling at him for the camera as your fingertips meet his clammy skin. He doesn’t tell you to stop so across his cheek you swipe your thumb three times as tenderly as possible. As you stand from his lap, you pat his cheeks, three times delicately. You look into his eyes, still as calculating as when you met him, a deceptively warm amber with the tiniest hint of frustration (and somewhere inside, you know it’s probably with you but you can’t care.)

“I’m gonna sit on the couch, ‘kay?” You call softly, hoping you were subtle enough with your plea.

“Oh, okay,” And you think you’re free before he calls a “Wait! Come back for a little.” You’re even halfway to the couch before the words rope you back in. He beckons you to lean down, and whispers into your ear. “I noticed you trying to sign to get out. Morse code isn’t as subtle as you think, you might as well just ask them to get you out,” You chance a quick look towards chat.

“Was that morse code?”

“Holy shit! Yeah, I think that was SOS.”

“You think they actually need to get out or it’s one of those ‘my bfs terrible’ jokes?”

“You see the way they were straddling? Def not a hate my bf sorta thing.”

“See?” He’s still whispering into your ear, game forgotten in lieu of what might be called humiliation.  “They won’t believe you because you want to be here. Regardless of what you say, you would’ve left already if you didn’t.” He smiles at you and affectionately pats your head. Like he’d pet a cat. The idea is still in your mind, though perhaps a little shallower. You glance at the chat once more, someone is still talking about it, but Kenma pushes you away with a “I’ll get you when I’m done, okay?” You end your night on the couch with Kenma. He smiles at you and puts your legs on his lap.

The next livestream is two days after the last one. You have something planned once more, hopefully more effective.

“I’m playing minecraft today, I could set up your computer, and we could play together?” His small smile is back. And though a kind gesture, all you can think about is how easily you could make a point.

“Okay!” The earlier plan is immediately forgotten, and thoughts of what you could do in a game, fills your mind. “Will I have a mic?”

“No, I can’t have you telling them can I?” And it clicks, because of course he’d taunt you. But it’s like your brain grew claws that cannot lose their hold.

“Will I have a camera?” And you know the answer, but Kenma might still surprise you. You’ve already had one shock tonight, maybe you’ll get another.

“No. Sorry. You have chat though.” He pats your head again, ruffling your hair. “I’ve already got you set up, c’mon.” He tugs at your hand, pulling gently.

“Thanks Kenma.” He’s put another computer across from his desk on a much smaller table made for playing cards.

“You’re all set up.”

“Yeah.” He clicks the mouse a few times, waves at the camera to his right. “Can everybody hear me?” He waits a few seconds for chat’s response. “Chat is saying yes, so let’s get right in?” He smiles sheepishly to his camera.

“Hi everyone, I’ m Kodzuken and today we are,” He pauses to look at you with honeyed amber eyes. “Playing Minecraft with my partner.” He nods in your direction. You just open the minecraft tab, the only shortcut that seems to be on the computer.

“It’s a LAN server, click that, okay?” So you click it and say nothing. You start to go through the motions of chopping a tree, making sticks, making a crafting table. Kennma is narrating what he does, and you’re not even sure where he is in game until you're knocked back and turn your mouse to look at him.

“Yeah, I know - she should be relying on me.” He’s responding to something in chat, he’s gotta be. You type a quick,

“What’re they saying?”

“Oh, that my girlfriend shouldn’t be so independent, you rely on me - I'm your boyfriend.” Kenma says it so casually, so acerbically that you immediately take off sprinting from the forest in game.  

“She has these bouts - you saw them last stream - where she likes to try and ‘get away’.” Kenma laughs softly; little glockenspiel notes falling from his mouth. “It’s a really cute joke honestly! Anyway, I’ll put my minecraft bed next to hers later, right now...” You stop paying attention and start planning how you’d try to get your point across more clearly. You could make signs, say “Get me out!” Like Kenma suggested.

“Hey! He looks over the screen at you, piercing eyes staring right through you. “Don’t go off on your own, we’re staying together alright?”

“No.” He’ll have to deal with chatting, possibly hearing you by himself. And you continue through the coded forest. It goes pretty smoothly, though you’re sure Kenma is trying to find you, you’ve already created a mine for yourself, and made a little sign with instructions that reads: “Get me out!”

“Her voice is quite cute, isn’t it? I’ll get to hear it for the rest of my life.” He continues humming out yes’s and no’s to his audience that sit captivated in a land of blocks and pixels.

“Hey, I’m going to use the restroom, is it alright if my girlfriend takes over for me?” He stands, and waves you over into his chair that’s been made for gaming and padded with red accents. He watches you with his cat-like eyes as you sit down and pats your head. “I’ll be right back Kitty, behave.” And you hear his soft footsteps get farther away and the creak of the door twice before you finally look at chat.

Woa, Kudzu got lucky huh?

“Please,” You don’t sound nearly as someone might think you would. You’ve been here too long. “Get me out of here?”

Sure sweetheart, just come over to my place first.

“Just - get me away from him please!”

Girls are so whiny huh?

Hey man, its funny at least amiright?

“It’s not a joke -”

She’s really committed to this bit huh

Damn iim staartin to feel bad for ken

Me to :(

“I’ve been here for year and I don’t want to-”

Wow. what an ungrateful bitch.

Ikr? She’s got a bf and everything and she wants to get out?

“No- it’s not like that - he stalked me for months I-” And the familiar desperation you thought hoped beyond all hope that you had lost bleeds back into your voice all repression surfaces like the tide in your eyes.

Oh fuxxx we made her cry.

relax bet she’s just on her period or smth

“I am not!” A bubble of snot pops from your nose and mucus drips uncomfortably to your lips. “I just-”

What could you want that you don’t have.

“My house! My job! My friends!” And your voice breaks

She wants to go back to a job?

Crazy lady huh.

She wants friends when all she really needs is a man? smh.

“Kitten, what-”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” It’s an outburst that you’ll regret later, for one reason or another. But for now it’s a small comfort to speak your mind. With your voice wavering and congested, you choke out a “Let me go home.” Kenma’s eyebrows furrow but his eyes are still the calculating, cold amber they always are.

“Shh shh, it’s okay.” Instead of the quick pats he’s so fond of, he strokes your hair and massages the nape of your neck like he’s picking up a kitten who's gotten into a fight. “I’m going to cut the stream, okay?”

Who’d want to leave Ken, he’s cutting the stream short to help his gf.

…….yeah

I feel bad.

“You should. Please don’t make her cry.” A few clicks later and the stream cuts. “Do you want me to upload that one?” To get your message out? You’d do anything.

“Yes please…” Someone will have to see it. How miserable you are.

“Then it’ll go up, okay?” He pats your back twice, and he stands again to sit at the computer. Out of the blue he speaks again. “They’re right.” No no no no no. “I’m lucky, i’m so glad you're here with me and that you won’t leave.”

“I will get out!” The proof of your white hot anger is breaking the dam built in your throat.

“Where will you go? Your friends don’t know where you’ve gone, they won’t be happy with you coming back unannounced.”

“My parents-”

“You can rely on me, you don’t need anyone else.”

“But I-”

“Shhh kitty, you’re overreacting let’s get you to bed, you’ve had a stressful day.” And so he walks you back to the room you share that's covered in pictures, and he tucks you under the covers and dries your tears with a blanket. He whispers words to you, faint little nothings about games he’s going to play that you’ll enjoy watching and little bits of trivia about what “Kuroo” is up to. Eventually you fall asleep, with his hand in your hair and a chair pulled up close so he can stare. You both know it but no one will admit, some part of him will always enjoy how you lose hope so quickly.

--

once again! This should not’ve taken so long,,,, and it kinda deviates from request but! there we are! also,,,, you can’t tell me that like,,,,,,, kenma hasn’t been at least exposed to incels and or like,,,, really sexist guys he streams on twitch or youtube or something so- also thank you anon,,, i really like this one