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petalsofyouth · 4 months

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bees that flew away | ran haitani x reader

warnings: drugs usage and alcohol consumption, implied self-harm, unreliable narrator, mentions of a rape (nothing graphic, it's just there), sweet gentle love.

wc: 16 473

author's note: i started writing it on the verge of death and it shows. in the middle of writing it i felt fine and finishing it i was dying once again. oh, and, also! it's a bit unedited. i doubt there are some actual crucial mistakes, but there must be something i overlooked, i'll get to it tmw. so bear in mind that it's unedited. i just wanted to post this, because otherwise i would delay it and delay it and delay it all over again.

_ The room is foggy and you wonder if it’s from five - you counted - lit cigarettes or it’s just your tired drunk brain. It wouldn’t be the first time you conjured something out of nothing. Shaped it in between your fingers and gave it form. Brought it to life.

Your lips quiver and you press them together, averting your red high eyes from you don’t know who. You probably look pitiful and scared because Haruchiyo reaches over and snakes his long arm around your shoulders, hugging you closer to his body. It’s hot in here, but for one reason or another, he is still wearing his favourite old leather jacket. Now, hours into the party, its surface absorbed all the nasty smells of this huge house in Yokohama. It stinks and you gag.

His long bleached hair smells even worse and you gag again. This time closing your mouth with your palm and he looks at you, worry in his hooded eyes.

He should offer you a glass of water and maybe a ride home, you think. If he was a better - maybe normal - friend. But he does neither of that. He takes the joint from his lips and holds it close to your mouth. When you don’t move, just staring at him as if you don’t understand what he wants from you, he sighs and smiles.

Sweetly.

Haruchiyo is a sweet guy. Your best friend.

Deep down the fuckery that he is he is indeed very sweet and kind; pure.

“Come on,” he urges you, tapping on your shoulder. “Relax. Tensing up and thinking won’t do you any good. Be nice. Open your mouth.”

You do just that and when he places a cigarette between your lips you inhale. Toxic green smog invades your lungs and the nausea subsides. Once again you feel light and careless. You feel almost happy. The knocking on the back of your head and in your heart dies. Killed by your own stupid hands. If Rindou were here you suppose he would’ve been very mad at you.

For killing and for not caring. For pretending. “Truth or dare?”

The girl speaks to you and you know that. You feel her stare on yourself and if you weren’t so high you would see the expecting, oh so spiteful, glint in her eyes. If you were sober you would’ve noticed it and probably still would’ve done nothing.

That’s just the way you are.

“Truth.” She licks her glowing with gloss lips and smiles. Her friend, a girl with uneven bangs and the longest hair you’ve ever seen in your life, just beneath her hips, giggles. They share a glance. A knowing one. The trap they settled for you closing with a loud thump.

On the right side, with his arms across the girl's shoulders sits Ran Haitani. She’s almost between his legs, but not quite, and yet there’s a striking familiarity that surrounds them. Maybe it’s in a way his thumb caresses the bare skin of her shoulders or maybe it’s her leaning even more into his broad chest when she catches you watching them.

Either way your hands shake and it might be the alcohol or weed or something entirely else. You don’t bring yourself to care. You simply can’t.

“So,” the girl speaks. Despite the music and the fog around your senses you can hear her clearly. “Is it true that there are burning marks on your upper thigh?” You tense and beside you Haruchiyo tenses too. But the girl continues, “Is it true that you burnt yourself because you hate yourself? Is it true that you always do it high because you are a fucking coward to do it sober?” Your eyes are open and no matter how much you want to close them and squint them hard, you won’t. You stare at the girl as she spews your silly little sins out like they are nothing; like you are nothing. “Is it true that you wanted to fuck Ran, but he said no, because you are..?”

She never finishes her sentence and for the rest of your life you can only guess what insult she had prepared for you.

The table that stood between you falls to the side when Haruchiyo’s Docs comes in contact with it. Ashtrays, bags and glasses scatter on the hardwood floor and you stare at them for quite a time, unable to look at anything or anyone else. The girl screams and her friend screams too and suddenly you aren’t that high anymore and you want to get out of this house, of this party. Out of the sight of all those people. Your body trembles and Haruchiyo, who tightly holds your hand, nudges you to stand up. You do as he asks, because you're tired and because you’ll go anywhere he’ll take you. If Rindou was here, he would’ve hated you not fighting back, but he is not and you are glad there’s one reason less for him to be disappointed in you. “Pathetic fucking excuse of a woman,” Haruchiyo spits at the girl and you tune out, losing yourself in the broken glass on the floor. It’s pretty with myriads of lights - lives - in every broken shard. They are colourful and full of hidden senses you don’t understand.

In the corner of your vision you notice Haruchiyo raising his free hand. The girl screams again and this time when you finally raise your eyes, you see her face and pretty white t-shirt with one of Sanrio characters on it wet with whatever alcohol Haruchiyo had in his cup. A few splashes of it hit Ran’s cheek and arm too, but it’s hard to say what he is thinking. He was never one to betray his mind and show it off to everyone and besides you don’t look at him for too long. The cup and the remnants of a joint goes straight to the floor too. Haruchiyo steps on them and curses again.

“Tame your fucking bitch, Haitani. Next time I won’t see that she’s a woman.” With this you leave. Hand in hand, with bitter hearts, you swim between the people and friends, until you are out of the house, in the fresh air outside. The night that meets you is starry and cold and so it’s very beautiful. Both you and Haruchiyo, stand on the side of the street, near the house in silence, clearly absorbed in surroundings. There’s a black cat watching you across the pavement and somewhere in the bushes is a cicada. Or maybe there are many. You have no way of knowing. The smoke of the cigarette - a regular one - hits your nose and you wonder how in the world have you missed the familiar click of Haruchiyo’s favourite ZIPPO lighter. His older brother gifted it to him when he was barely fifteen. The gift is quite questionable and Haruchiyo is not very sentimental, but he always has it with him. There’s a naked woman engraved on it and he fooled you to believe that’s why. The door behind you sways open, but none of you is interested to know who it is. Maybe it’s no one important. Maybe you both should leave and forget this night like many others. But it’s Kakucho and he gently places his huge brown jacket across your shoulders and so you stay for a little bit longer. His harsh presence cuts the night in two and what happened before suddenly turns into an ugly illusion. The cat yawns and you are reminded of how late it actually is. “True,” you say after the night digs dipper and the smoke of Haruchiyo’s cheap cig envelopes you.

The boys are quiet. Kakucho turns his head to look at you and you smile shyly under his curious gaze. It’s not like anything really matters.

“It’s true. Only I never wanted to fuck Ran. I just wanted to share the love I have for him.” Haruchiyo sighs, dropping unfinished cigarettes onto the pavement. You hope the cat's paws won’t touch it and burn. As it hurts when it burns. Very very much so. “Who the fuck cares if it’s true or not?” “I hate to admit it,” Kakucho sighs pretentiously, a kind smile smudged across his lips, “but I do agree with Haru. Who the fuck cares?” Drops of alcohol on his cheek. Little perfect pearls. Wet black blouse. Cold dead eyes. He doesn’t look at you. He never does. He used to, but not anymore and besides it was so long ago, it’s like it’s never happened. Old images of false memories your brain conjured by itself with a sole reason to feel something; anything at all.

The cat disappears, night swallowing it whole, and you wish it would do the same to you. But beside you two boys bicker so loudly it would never happen. Their voices tie you to them and despite your strong wish to disappear into thin air, you are glad they make you stay. “Do you wanna get going? You are crashing at mine, right?” Haruchiyo asks, stretching out his hand, palm up. You don’t need to think about it, but you still do, taking a little pause before you reply. “Yes. I can’t show up like this at home. Mom’s gonna cry again.” None of these boys know what it means for a mom to cry. And yet they understand the ache and the heartbreak. The sacred prayer to be a better child someone somewhere could be proud of.

Before you part ways, you and Haruchiyo go to find his parked motorcycle and Kakucho his old sporty car he bought with money he probably stole from someone, you shrug Kakucho’s jacket off your shoulders. “No. Take it. You can return it any other time. I don’t mind.” He smiles at you and his smile reaches his eyes.

Haruchiyo’s apartment is small, but it’s only his and that is something to be proud of.

The bathroom is all fogged up from the hot shower you just took. You slip into a pair of clean boxers, old grey sweatshirts and plain white t-shirt. They don’t smell like anything, but they are so undeniably Haruchiyo’, your heart swells. You love your best friend to death.

“I hate the post high,” he murmurs when you sleep under the duvet next to him. “How are you feeling?” “Like shit and worse.”

He giggles, but then he grows serious and his hand slides across the bed. He is searching for your hand, to take it into his and calm you down, to show his love. You help him find it. “Your scars are just scars and she is just a bitch. Don’t think about her.” When you don’t reply, he adds. “I know you do. You are breathing strangely.” And when you don’t say anything else, he speaks again. “I have never spoken about those things with anyone. And I can give my head that Rindou hadn’t either. I don’t know how she knows.”

Those things that are your feelings, your inner world and ugly cracks all over your body.

Those fucking things. Involuntarily, without your mind's consent, you curl into yourself. Cold attacks your limbs like thousands of small invisible needles and you weep, and Haruchiyo understands why and for what. All the reasons are so plain, they are written in black ink on white paper. You hate that you are so easy to crack open. You want to be something else entirely.

“I love you,” he shifts closer to you and soon you are one body, “However you are. Okay?” His long beautiful fingers hold your own hands near his bare chest. He twirls your many many rings and swipes his thumb across your skin. Haruchiyo is a gentle creature and you don’t know where it all went wrong and when sleeping pills in his cupboard became dust to snort up his nose.

“Okay.”

He smiles at that and checks the window behind you. It’s still dark. The dawn - nowhere in sight. Good. So so so good. Before he closes his eyes, he presses his lips against your damp forehead and then under each of your eyes, kissing the tears and headache away. Somehow he manages to do just that and you fall asleep with a light heart. _

Two summers ago, on the warm evening of the last August day, your careless youth slipped away from you.

It’s an irony that it happened when the sun was setting and a small part of you remained forever imprisoned in that pleasant August day, while another you strode forward to some distant place in the night, where you shouldn’t have been at all.

You were wearing a pretty sparkling dress and you were all dolled up and beautiful and yet that wasn’t enough.

With your hands behind you, supporting your body and legs stretched forward, you sat on the porch of the Haitani’s house. The sun had already dipped behind the grey buildings and Roppongi, the heart of nightlife in Tokyo, was just summoned back into existence. Sometimes it felt like during the day this bright area was almost dead, barely breathing, due to the sheer constant of blinding lights it birthed at night.

The all too thoughtfully magazine under your butt did little to protect you from the coldness of the ground. You shivered uncomfortably and gazed at the boy standing in front of you. Ran was always a dream. So handsome. So mature. So perfect with all the hard edges of his character and soft plump of his lips.

So so so so so.

It was embarrassing how in love with him you were and it was more embarrassing, almost devastatingly so, that you fell for him the first day you met him. You still remember how the three of you - Ran, Rindou and you - stood near the vending machine under the metal roof of the small bookshop. It was heavily raining then and you were waiting for the droplets to stop. For the storm to cease and for you to go home. You remember Ran’s beautiful face and you remember how he lit up a cigarette and you remember how his body shivered because he was cold and how he smiled when he caught you staring at him. How he said nothing and how that pretty smile of his never left his face until you closed the door of your home and bid them goodbye.

That day you were supposed to go to a party. Ran was supposed to drive you in his new shiny car and you were supposed to have a good time. Your best friend was already on the train to Roppongi, just one station away and Rindou was still inside the house, torn between white blouse and a grey t-shirt. He didn’t want to appear too casual and yet dressing up never sat right with him.

Maybe if one of them were with you nothing would’ve happened and maybe you would’ve stayed.

But none of them were. Only Ran and his stupid smile that fell off his soft lips the moment you confessed. The frown settled on his face then, and he was silent for a very long time, until he spoke and it became dark.

“You know, I don’t do sloppy seconds. You kinda are my brother’s. It's like… I am sorry. It just won’t work out.”

Once warm air quickly turned dry and you were suffocating. Heart beating too fast and not enough to spread blood across your cold frigid body, you stood up from the porch and without a mere word strode down the road. Ran didn’t say a word. He didn’t go after you. He didn’t call. And if you were to turn back, you would’ve known that he didn’t even look after you as you were slowly disappearing between the building and despair.

The rest of the evening passed in blur. There’s no recollection in your mind of how you ended up in that particular bar and how you spent the little yen you had on you. Till this day, you believe it is your brain that is protecting you from sleazy hands of men across your body, shielding you from the force of pain that overtook you once they had your way with you. You don’t remember much because you were drunk and high, but you remember when Rindou ran into the toilet of that bar and looked away from your abused body splattered on the floor. And you can still hear the sob your friend let out when she saw you. And if you try hard enough you can still feel the love of Rindou’s blouse when your best friend dresses you up in it. Her warm hands on your marked dirty skin.

And of course, you remember the day after, when you woke up in her bed and you both sobbed together, until numbness overtook you and you surrendered to it like a warm hug from the life of your life.

Since that very day, two summers ago, when your little heart was broken and your youth bid you a gruesome farewell, Ran Haitani hadn’t spoken to you at all. It’s like instead of you there was a blank waste of a space and somehow you could understand him. You could justify his silence.

The headache after a hangover is never kind. Mixed with a loud banging on the door and muffled - thanks God - shouts of the Rindou it is truly the worst.

The inner sides of his fists are red, but irritated skin shows barely an ounce of the frustration and anger that bubble in Rindou’s throat. His always so pretty face, now scarred by fury, is what gives him away and by the force with which he kicks off his boots, you can tell he wasn’t trying to ease himself or hide how he is feeling. “What the actual fuck,” he shouts and neither Haruchiyo who stands near the still open door, nor you still in bed under thick blanket can’t tell if this is a question or a statement.

His body rigid and eyes burning an unfriendly fire Rindou throws his bag on the ground near the wooden dinner table that Takeomi brought in Haruchiyo’s apartment - or rather picked it up from the garbage - and strides through the only room to you. “Get up and strip,” he commands and his voice so unnerving, so angry and forceful leaves no space for you to retreat to. You hate when he is doing this, but you understand why and his quivering lips and red dust across his cheeks are enough for you to forgive him. It’s hard for him too.

Loving you and caring for you is hard. But it’s not a new found truth so it’s easy to fathom it in your bones.

You shed clothes that aren’t even yours, easily. One by one they pile up near your legs, a protective shell broken and discharged, until you stand there in your panties and palms for a bra. Haruchiyo curses and averts his gaze. He despises these little checks-up Rindou does and he resents that you are letting him do them every single time. Not once you said “no”.

Smooth hands glide across your skin. Between legs, under your arms, right down the spine. Optical examination ceased to be effective long ago when you put makeup on the newish wound you inflicted upon yourself. Now, Rindou had to be sure. Now, he needed your safety ensured by his own two hands. You wonder if he does all these, because he feels guilty. Because he thinks what happened to you is partially his fault. You had this conversation with him already and it ended in you sobbing and him so angry you were almost afraid of him, but not nearly. Rindou, too, is sweet and kind. Maybe a little bit more so than Haruchiyo.

That’s why you aren’t asking anything anymore. Instead of a question you puff out a little air from between your lips. Rindou’s head shots up and he looks at you, his eyes hidden behind the thin metal rim of his glasses. You suppress a laugh. Something in between his white and blue locks charges you with merriness.

He watches you as you press your lips together and adjust his glasses higher up his nose. He is not amused, you can tell that much, but he isn’t angry anymore and that is a relief. And he let you touch his glasses, something he never allows anyone to do [except you, but not when he is in a bad bad bad mood]. So, you decide, the storm is over. The waves are calm.

“Not even gonna ask what you are laughing about,” he mumbles, inspecting your ankles and when he finds nothing, he stands up from the floor, not before picking up the clothes on the floor.

“Your eyes,” you make a vague gesture with your fingers in front of your own face, “They were just hidden and you looked so… I don’t know… Never mind, Rin.” In front of you in the kitchen fighting with a kettle Haruchiyo snorts. There’s a herbish aroma and something almost too sweet circulating in the air and it’s so strong it startles you. Too absorbed in Rindou you didn’t notice the smell before. Another Haruchiyo’s tea concoction. Hopefully, this time successful.

“Did you two get high yesterday?” Rindou asks, going inside the kitchen - it’s hard to tell where the bedroom ends and kitchen starts since Haruchiyo’s apartment is a studio - and peeking over Haruchiyo’s shoulder. “You laugh even more in the post-haze than you do while you are at it.” The silence that settles is murmuring all the nasty things that happened yesterday right in Rindou’s ears. He looks between the two of you exchanging glances and sighs.

“Whatever. Honestly, I am not even interested. I am here this early only because your mom called.” At this, you stop, your sweatpants half way your legs. You would’ve called Rindou out for lying, because he is here not only because of your mother’s call, but because he simply can not stop caring for you. But then, when your parent calls Rindou it’s never a good thing. It’s always about your scars, your secrets and your lies.

This time, however, you know why she called him and you sit down on the bed, feeling like the smallest tiniest human being in the whole world. You hate this feeling of a deep humiliation. You want to burn yourself to not remember the ache in your tightened jaw and the disgusting sweat on your clammy palms.

“If this is about the blades under my bed I didn’t buy them to… har… cut myself. I bought them for postcards.”

He doesn’t buy it. He bites his lip and shakes his head, waiting for you to continue. “I am telling the truth, Rindou. I bought them to cut out postcards. I… I…” Hot tears pool in your eyes and you hate that he doesn’t believe you and you so badly want to pity yourself, but you can’t. Can’t do this. Because it’s your own fault no one trusts your words and promises anymore. When they look at you and pity you it’s done by your own hands. Hands you too want to burn.

“Oh, baby, stop,” Haruchiyo helps you pull your sweatpants up and then he ties the drawstrings for you, his body - a shield between you and Rindou, “you didn’t cut yourself with those blades, did you?” “No, I swear, I didn’t,” you repeat it a few times and the only thing that makes you stop mumbling is the pain that seeps through Haruchiyo’s eyes into your heart.

“Well, good to hear, but you will have to buy a pair of scissors for your postcards, because I threw away those blades you hid under your bed.”

A clammy hands of desperation tighten around your neck and you want to scream. From frustration and from anger, from despair. Was it like this back too? Your every word carefully weighed and put on the pedestal to judge? You don’t think so. For better or for worse you can’t remember how it was before, but you wonder when everyone will just give up on you.

With a loud screech against the chair against the floor, Rindou stands up. He takes a few steps and gently shoves Haruchiyo away from you. His long white hair swaying in the air. Haruchiyo smiles at you, reassuringly, kindly and the pools of grim pain evaporate from his beautiful eyes. Love heals, you think. So then, why do you remain sick? “You know how much I care about you, do you?” Rindou asks, cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I’ll do anything for you to be healthy, happy and well. If it means I have to be harsh with you then I will. And if it means you will hate me somewhere on the way, so be it. But I won’t let you down again. Get this in your head. I. Am. Not. Letting. You. Down. Ever. Again.” Haruchiyo turns away and gets to his kettle and tea. And you finally silently cry cradled into Rindou’s warmth. Humiliation washes away with salty tears and the ever so heavy guilt crashes upon your shoulders. It’s better than anything, you think. Because that means you still care too and that means you are alive and well and there’s hope that one day all the check-ups and blades and tears will be in the past.

You believe in this.

Haruchiyo’s tea turns out not so bad and you and Rindou have two cups, one and half each.

That day you come home late in the evening.

You still wear Haruchiyo’s clothes and have Kakucho’s jacket thrown over your shoulders. The sneakers you place on the shoe rack - dusty black Adidas - are yours. This random sudden thought makes you happy and for the first time in a while you bubble with excitement. Over shoes. It can’t be normal. It’s not normal. Probably just a lingering side-effect of weed or bottled up emotions in which Rindou effectively made a hole once again. Inside the living room, under tonkatsu, sits your family. They are watching TV over dinner. You see an empty plate and an empty space reserved just for you and your giddy happiness holts. You had dinner with Rindou and Haru already and you aren’t hungry. Guiltiness spreads across your lungs like a web of poisonous spiders.

Your mother is the one who sees you first. She is wary and tired when she looks at you, but this is nothing new. Your father turns back to look at you too, he nods and returns to the TV as soon as he can. He says, you should join them and eat something, you must be starving. You nod and wave at your little sister. She waves back.

You go inside your room.

No one said anything about new shining scissors you had in your hand that Rindou bought for you.

No one came to check on you and you didn’t have dinner together.

_ You skip school for the next few days.

There’s no particular reason. You just don’t feel like going.

In front of you, there’s a void and it’s luring you in. Black colour, so inviting and beautiful. Inside of a space avoidant of anything and everything, where no air is floating, you are blossoming. The slightest aroma of laundry detergent and fresh baked cookies are so hard to resist and this is exactly what this imaginary [not so] place of yours smells like. You wish you could stay there forever.

You almost do.

But then your phone rings and the number is unknown. Yet, you have the slightest hunch of who it could be. That’s why you pick it up.

“Hey! You have no idea how hard it was to get your number. You do have some seriously overprotective friends,” Kakucho laughs echoes through that night where you met a black cat to now and then right into your ear.

You hum, holding your phone in the safest place between your ear and shoulder, “I guess you could say that. Why are you calling? Oh! I am sorry I totally forgot to give you your jacket back. Do you wanna meet up somewhere? I am free now.”

He laughs again and you notice that his laugh is boisterous and contagious. It’s almost childish in its raw sincerity. You haven’t heard people being that happy in a long long time. In a reminiscence the corner of your lips stretch up on their own. “What about… Can you be at Shibuya station in twenty minutes?” “I can try.” “Cool. I'll see you there then!”

He hangs up just as abruptly as he called and the taste in your mouth is not of sweet abyss cookies, but of metal and caramel. It’s exciting in the most lazy manner.

Outside, running down the street, to catch the bus on time, you notice the vast blue sky that is so clear it looks like it’s made of glass. You stop on the crossroad, hands on your hips, and take a few shallow breaths. Running was never and will never be your forte, but you stare at the infinite beauty that covers the whole earth and all people living on it, and wonder why haven’t you got out of the house earlier.

_ Kakucho takes you to a nice barbeque place.

It’s a chain restaurant, so the food is quite cheap and nice. You order two bowls of rice, beef, soup and kimchi. Kakucho gets himself Sapporo beer and you ask for iced lemon tea which he claims doesn’t go well with meat, but still smiles when you sip it.

He is sitting opposite you in a small booth made for two people only. He is wearing a black turtleneck and plain jeans that can’t be that expensive, but they do look like he paid more than twenty thousand yen to get them. On the back of his chair hangs yet another leather jacket. The one he gave you sits in the Mitsukoshi bag under the table near your leg.

In everything he does, Kakucho is effortless and confident. He grills the meat for you and he carries the conversation for you too. He asks you about school, about your hobbies, your likes and dislikes and even learns what your favourite colour is.

Half through this spontaneous dinner you understand that this was never about returning his jacket. At least for him. But then, it’s his dark black hair that he spontaneously decided to grow out almost two years ago after he got tired of seeing that ugly bald dude with a scar in reflection every morning. [This you too learn over the food and while you want to tell him that by no means he can be considered ugly, you suppress yourself and listen to his soothing voice carrying you to yet another story already.] They are so black, they almost have this blue-ish inky feeling to them. And somehow looking at him so smiley, so kind and so handsome, so welcoming and accepting, so invested in every few words you say, he reminds you of those beautiful warm summer nights. Not the one that happened two summers ago, but all the ones before that. It’s a burning sensation and it calms you.

You think, if he wants you might give him a chance.

It’s dark when you go outside and back to the metro station.

“Next time I’ll see you I’ll bring my car. I feel really bad, but my car is in the service. The engine has been acting up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kakucho,” you say counting the colourful kaleidoscope of the stained glass window of the random shop, you pass by. You connect every piece to seconds that fly away and they make beautiful constellations. “Just think it’s a good thing you are taking me home then and we are going by foot and not driving there. I am bad with directions. But now you are going to remember where I live and next time you can pick me up right from home. You know, just to pay for all the walking we did today.” He bites his smile back, lips pressed tightly together, but it fights him and reaches his eyes. They shine. _ “Since when are you and Kakucho going out?”

You sit on the floor of Haruchiyo’s apartments with a scissor in your hands. Bright patterned paper, stickers, glue and so many other things you sure are two boys in the room with you don’t even know the name of, lay in a circle surrounding you. It’s messy, but Haruchiyo who lays on the bed, behind you and watches every single creative step you take, doesn’t seem to mind.

In fact he never does.

“We are not going out,” you mumble, eyes focused on cutting the most precisely shaped heart without an outline. “We’ve been hanging out. That’s all.” Rindou doesn’t seem to be convinced. He glances over to Haruchiyo laying on his stomach, blond hair a curtain, and sighs.

“You do know, he has a thing for you?” “Well, I mean I kinda do, but I am sure it’s not anything serious. Who would’ve been in lo…” “He punched Ran at that party and they haven't talked since then.”

The scissors stop and the bright yellow heart falls to the ground. It’s nicely and evenly cut out, but something about it isn’t right and you can’t tell what it is and you are spiralling and nothing can stop you now, because fire is nowhere in reach. You scratch your left thigh.

“I didn’t wanna tell you, but…” “I am glad Kaku did it. I am sorry Rin, but it was actually very nasty there and if not for her, I would’ve killed his bitch first and then kill him,” you hear the springs in the old mattress squeak and then Haruchiyo plops right next to you, making a space for himself between glue bottles, colourful tapes and you. “Ran never told her anything, because he didn’t even know, and I never told Ran or anybody about it. It wasn’t my brother’s fault she ran her mouth. For all I know Ran and her were never even together.” “Oh, really? Then how the fuck does she know?” The anger rising up in Rindou scorches you and you wince, but boys being boys, playing their own little war don’t notice it. “How would I know that? I just know that even if Ran knew he would never speak about it with anybody else!” “For fuck’s sake, Rindou, I know he is your older brother and you always admired him and…”

The words bleed. The wounds they leave suffocate. You plaster a yellow heart over a red cardboard. You draw millions of hearts around it. You wish they’d stop now, but you know them both well enough, to know they won’t. You know how much Rindou loves Ran and how much Haruchiyo thinks everything that happened to you is because of Ran. But it’s not. What happened to you has never been Ran’s fault and you won’t let anyone think that. Not even your sweet pretty Haruchiyo. “I believe it,” you say loudly enough to stop them. “In fact, I know it wasn’t Ran who told her. Ran is not like that and… I… I just know he didn’t know about it. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Ran and it’s not his fault. Neither it’s his responsibility or yours.” Splashes of alcohol across his cheek and wet t-shirt. The look on his face. Of pure horror and so many regrets. It wasn’t Ran. It could never be him.

Rindou and Haruchiyo mend over the sweet sour chicken you make for them. They laugh, and joke and make those stupid boyish remarks only male in their twenties can. But you forgive them for that and for everything else too, like they do the same for you.

It’s when Rindou examines your newest red card with yellow heart and I LOVE YOU RINDOU written across it, he brings the subject of Kakucho back. “Just so you know, I won’t hesitate to add another scar to his face.” Haruchiyo snorts, “Aren’t you two like best gym buddies?” “Yes we are. But he doesn’t make me postcards. And want it or not, but my loyalty lies with my brother so we aren’t speaking either.”

Haruchiyo never comments anything on it and neither do you, but for the rest of the evening and well into the night when you lay down in Haruchiyo bed and try your best to sleep, you can’t help it, but think where does your loyalty lay? To what latitude does it extend and what seconds are most important to you to get back to them over and over again. _

It’s summer and you are in Kyoto. You are in your last school year and life has never ever been more beautiful. The green around you has the most vibrant colour and the sun above you is the warmest it has ever been. You close your eyes, spread your arms and melt. If you had to choose a moment to live in forever it would be this.

There’s a festival going on in town. You hear music and people laughing. You smell chicken and something very very sweet. But despite this cacophony of smells and sounds, you also hear birds chirping and because of that your heart beats twice as fast. It’s a pretty feeling and you hope your heart will stay this way forever.

Ran finds you kneeling in front of the small flower cart in front of the flower shop. You are so engrossed in the scenery of random shapes and ethereal feelings to them, you don’t notice him at all. Or so he thinks, because it’s very very difficult for you not to sense Ran’s presence.

It’s even harder not to feel his lazy stare on you and it’s impossible to not be burned by his crooked hazy smile as he watches you pecking tender petals with your fingertips.

“Where’s Rin?” You ask, eyes focused on the bright pink flower. Ran takes a step, then another one and then he squats by your side, shoulders touching, the flower unnoticed. “With Kakucho, your two friends and Haruchiyo at a sportswear store.” “What?” Head snapping to the side, you study his face, to see if he is teasing you and while his lips are stretched in a smile, you don’t think he is.

“I know. I am surprised Haruchiyo tagged along with them,” he stops talking, his lips form a straight concerned line and the crease between his blonde eyebrows makes you want to press a fingertip in there to soothe it.

But instead of you reaching out to him, it’s him raising his hand to your shoulder. You hear a little buzzling near your ear, see the blue vast sky and people swarming behind Ran and you feel so warm, so safe, so i-wanna-freeze-this-moment. And you don’t know why your heart clenches the way it does and why your hands get clammy.

“It’s a little bee,” Ran says, eyes fascinated by the small creature sitting on his finger. “Probably mistook you for a flower.” He laughs and shakes the bee away. It falls in the air, but as if remembering it can actually fly, spreads its little tiny wings and goes off. To the crowd. To the festival. To so many shared happy moments.

“Do you want to go eat something? I am starving and on my way here I saw a decent looking place that serves yukke.” “Can we get Yatsuhashi after?” you stand up first, your head a bit dizzy from squatting for so long. Ran grins and nods, “Anything you want.” It’s on the way to the more than decent looking, but high-class restaurant that Ran takes you to, in the middle of your conversation that you remember about the flowers you were so fascinated with. There was no tag on them and you weren't sure they were even for sale, and yet you wished you went inside the shop and asked. Everything needs a name to stay. Today, Ran is eager to provide you with one. “It’s camellia. The flower you were looking at. Did you like it?”

The sun is still high up in the sky and people are still walking. The Gion Matsuri festival will last for another three days. “Since when can you tell flowers?”

You are genuinely interested and maybe that’s why Ran responds. You are sure he wouldn’t otherwise.

“Mom used to have a book on flowers. Encyclopaedia. Was obsessed with them and how do you think she came up with the name for me and Rin? Obviously took them from there. It was the only thing that remained after she left. Along with our names.”

“Well, you and Rindou remained too and then that old apartment of yours.” The smile blooms on his face again. He points at the restaurant with his finger and leads you there, “That apartment was actually of our beloved father. I wanted to set it on fire, but Rin talked me out of it.”

Somehow you know once again he is telling you the truth. The fire, him and Rindou, and the book that for one reason or so many more others he kept and read so many times, he could tell camellia apart from other flowers.

“Anyway, do you think bees migrate?” Inside the restaurant almost all tables are busy, but Ran finds you a perfect place near the outdoor garden for two people. You get a haunting feeling like it was waiting for you. “You mean migrate like birds do?” “Yeah,” he says casually overlooking the menu, “Oh, they have your favourite iced lemon tea. I always thought it’s amusing how you never drink anything hot.”

“I don’t like hot things. They burn. I hate it when it burns,” you do and you don’t think you’ll ever change. “And to answer your question, I don’t think bees migrate. I’ve never seen them flying around freely like birds.” “I’ve never seen a single bee in Roppongi. Today's gotta be my first time.” You end up ordering a lot more than you both can eat. It’s always like this with Ran and you think you know why. You think you understand him, and his questions and a lot more things he tries to keep confined in that heart of his.

Like an encyclopaedia of flowers and bees that flew away.

_ You and Kakucho will never end up together. Not in this universe, not in any other. He is the first one to break it to you, but you were the first to realise.

The truth is swallowed under bright cold stars. There’s not much light on the pier where you are lying down on the cold grey cement, but the roar of crashing waves and flickering lights of bulk carriers’ lamps are enough to guide you home. If needed.

“I feel like I could love you, but you won’t let me,” he says and these words are mere whispers that take the form of a knife. Dull or sharp doesn’t matter. It still cuts your skin in two and you bleed. This is nothing new.

“Maybe you are right,” is all you say. Your hands on your belly, you imagine sharks, three of them, emerging from the water and ripping you apart. They have five rows of deadly sinful teeth that will shred your flesh in seconds before you become part of them and the sea. You won’t die and you’d feel pain until sun blasts and the Earth will pause to exist and you with it. But no sharks come out and you are breathing.

“I still want to be your best friend, though,” Kakucho turns to his side, prompts his head on his palm and peers in your face. “If you want to, of course.”

Under his gaze, you think he’s searching for something. You want to tell him not to, because he won’t find it there. There’s no fight left in you. It’s all in vain, all in vain! “Nah. Those roles are taken,” you are only half-joking, but he doesn’t have to know that. “You can try though.” “Oh, I will. I will try my very best. I still like you. It’s not like it will go away any time soon.” If sharks do come, you pray, please don’t kill Kakucho too. He deserves to live a long nice life with a person who will love his gentle soul. But again, no sharks come, and you and him are alive and well. And an hour later he drops you off at home and you wish you won’t see him again and regret your inability to make people feel love. _ Haruchiyo’s hair is the prettiest you’ve ever seen. You’ve known him since you were eleven and every single hairstyle he had he owned. He was a young cheerful boy then, and a quite pretty young man now. Sometimes, you wished you could be together. You think both of you could make it work and maybe both of you would, if there wasn’t Rindou in between of you. But, today, there’s no Rindou and Haruchiyo’s head is in your laps and his clear bright eyes, almost transparent in their intensity, look at you and you only.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, hand finding yours, fingers sewn together. “Nothing much,” you lie and he accepts it, because he knows what goes in your head.

He sighs then, a tired loud sigh ripped right from his chest, just where his heart is. He tears himself off you, and sits opposite you, stretching his legs on each side of you.

“If you want, we can, but I do agree with Kaku, you will never love anyone, even me, like you love that beanpole. And hurting me will break your heart more than… Ah, you understand what I mean, right? And sex won’t solve anything either. It’s gonna make everything worse. And I am willing to give up anything I might feel for us, but not you and what we already have. I love you and I love your happiness and it’s not with me. Not in that way.” “Wow,” you giggle, face hot with tears. Haruchiyo smiles. His kind, beautiful smile makes him even more ethereal than he already is. With this angel white hair.

He leans in and kisses you on your lips. Hands on your wet cheeks, he doesn’t wipe them away, but hold them there and you feel them. They are cold and sorrowful. They are happy.

“Let’s go eat something. I’m paying. And if you want we can rent a movie to watch before we come back.” I do, you say and he nods. He kisses your forehead and helps you stand up. Haruchiyo is your best friend and you don’t really suppose you are destined to become something else. And it’s good. It does feel right.

_ The school is somehow not how you remember it. It’s even more dull, grey and ugly. You so badly want to drop out and never come back, but you can’t disappoint your family and friends more than you already have. You suck all your regrets and unpleasantries in, and continue to carry on.

Today, you are all alone. Haruchiyo isn’t in Tokyo and neither is Rindou. They went to that stupid DJ convention in Osaka and you, sitting in the cafeteria with your store bento box in front of you, wish you were with them. They are for sure having a lot of fun.

Unlike you.

It’s not a recent thing, but you are craving company, because thoughts inside your head are suffocating you. You see fires, fireworks and sharks with fairy lights. You feel waves and your little sister stares at you. Your skin pops off, wrinkling and coming off in ugly distorted layers.

You need this to stop, until you do the unforgivable and this is betraying Rindou to whom you promised not to do anything with yourself. You promised to go to school and study and be a good girl. Just for this week. Until he comes back and it gets easier to breathe.

Maybe, you should call Kakucho and go out with him. He won’t say no. You know that well and that’s why you don’t call him. He is too good for you and your haunting voices in your mind.

Everything seals in, when your friend finds you in the cafeteria and invites you to the party. It’s a small intimate gathering she promises and it’s gonna be so fun! We can dress up and have a little fun. We haven’t hung out in so long. Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! We are going to have the best night ever.

You don’t think twice, you need to relax and shut your shaking fears in your head, lock them away and preferably kill. So, you say “yes” and it makes your friend so happy, she spills her orange juice on your bleached jeans that your mother washed yesterday. _

The party is awful and your heart screams at you to get out before it’s too late.

But your friend holds your hand and you feel safer and she claims she knows a lot of people there and they are nice and then, she would never let anything happen to you. The last part is true, but there’s only so much a young girl in her twenties can do. People she knows are a group of men. They look like rock stars, smudged eyeliner and long hair, multiple piercings in both ears. There’s no way to tell their age, but you don’t think they are that much older. A strong smell of weed and alcohol doesn’t scare you either. It feels familiar.

With a few drags from a blunt you levitate, head in clouds, river of shitty bitter drink in your stomach, you levitate. You laugh and giggle and let the boy with orange bleached hair throw an arm around your bare shoulders. His touch isn’t anything, it’s barely there.

Until it’s not.

Until, his hand slides to your breast and he squeezes it. Once, twice, you lose the count. You feel sick, smoke disintegrated from your head, alcohol still in your blood. All the scars you carry on your body itch. You breathe in and breathe out, and the boy mistakes it for excitement. He grins, eyes foggy and greedy.

The bile rises up in your throat. You shove it down, to your stomach. The friend that promised to be there for you isn’t here anymore and you can’t pinpoint the moment she left. Hazy thoughts and remnants of what she said to you before going upstairs with one of the boys are still there, but they are melted in the hold and attention forced on you.

When the boy turns you around and kisses your neck, you’ve had enough. With a smile on your lips, and wobbly legs, you push him away, hands on his chest and he groans unsatisfied and hungry. He dives right back, fingers latching onto your waist. “I really need to use the restroom,” you whisper again and again and again. “I really need to. Please. I’ll be back. Just let me go.” He doesn’t and his friends laugh behind you. Is there no one to help you? No one to not let that awful night happen again? “Please, I just want to go to the restroom,” you plead and this time he releases you. You flee away. With trembling hands and shaking heart, you flee away and run to the bathroom. It’s vacant and it’s dirty, but it will do. It will do until you think of how to escape that party and get home. To your mom, to your dad and to you sweet little sister. To everything good and innocent that still lives in you. But now, you cry. You sit on the dirty floor in the house of a person you don’t know with a dress ridden to your mid thighs and cry. You cry for betraying Rindou’s trust, because once you are out of here, you’ll cut and then you’ll burn yourself and this time you hope it hurts so much, you won’t be able to feel anything for weeks. You hope it scars your body so ugly everyone will finally turn away from you. But firstly, you need to get out of here and this is almost impossible, because that guy wants you and waits for you and you promised to be back. Swallowing, you reach out for your phone. It’s in your bag. It’s fully charged and when you are about to dial Kakucho’s number, because he’s the only person to come and get you now, it rings. You answer before you see the name of the caller. “Hey! Why weren’t you answering my calls? Where the fuck are you?”

It’s Rindou and you know everything ends here. “I am fine. I am just at the party with…” “Are you crying? What the fuck? Where are you?” You sob. Because he is harsh with you and because he has every right to be.

“Rin, I am sorry, I… that guy… I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ll call Kakucho and he…” “Who? Did someone hurt you? You need to tell me where the fuck you are.” “He just… Rin, I can’t… Why are you in… I am sorry… I want to go home.” He is panicking. On the line, in another city, his heart breaks in two for you. “I need you to tell me where you are. Tell me where the fuck you are.” You tell him. The address, the way to the bathroom and even what you are wearing. You have no idea why you are doing this, because Rindou is no god and he can’t get to Tokyo, to you, swiftly. Today, he won’t save you. But he promises you he will and then he hangs up, only to call you a couple of minutes later and talk to you about anything and everything, before you are safe. Before you are you again. _ The lightning that shoots through your body is so strong and powerful, you straighten up against the door and stop breathing. Outside is eerily quiet. The music is no longer playing and people aren’t speaking. It’s like the world died and you are the only one left. “What is it?” Rindou asks after he catches you not listening to him telling you about the new DJ set up he and Haruchiyo saw today at the exhibition. It’s pointless asking him, because you do know the answer to your question, but you do ask anyway. “Who did you call, Rindou?” “Ran. I called Ran. Is he there?”

His voice is soft and comforting, but it does little to calm your wires of nerves. Suddenly the world is very crispy and clear. “Rin, I don’t think I am ready to talk to him and…” “Listen here,” he interrupts you, taking a long pause, “It’s just Ran. My older brother. The guy you knew since what? Five years old? I don’t know a better person I can trust you with than him.” “It’s not that… it’s just… I am not ready… I don’t think…” A knock on the door never lets you finish the sentence. Rindou is babbling up on the phone again, you can hear him, but you can’t comprehend what he is saying. Slowly you open the door. You feel safe. You start breathing again. _ Ran doesn’t take you to your house. He doesn’t speak to you when he escorts you out of the house, your hand in his, and he doesn’t speak to you once he stops near KFC, gets out and gets back with two large bags he throws in the backseat, neither does he say anything when he makes the last stop at convenience store two blocks away from his and Rindou’s apartment.

Two stops and thirty minutes ride, you don’t hear his voice even once. I am with her, is what he said to Rindou when he found you and took your phone from your hands; it still sits in the right pocket of his sweats.

And you, you don’t try to talk either. Instead, you watch him. You caress his face with your eyes and try to spot if everything is different since you last saw him this close. Two summers ago.

You don’t find anything new and it’s disappointing and relieving at the same time. Inside the apartment everything is still. He flickers on the light in the living room, places bags with food and drinks on the table and turns to you, standing where he left you. In the corridor. “Go and take a bath. Puke if you want and then come here. We’ll eat and we’ll talk.” When you don’t move he adds. “Go and wash yourself, I’ll bring you fresh clothes in a minute. Go.” The shower does help you. Water and soap feel nice on your skin and it’s not the cleansing you wish it was, but it still makes you feel better. Less anxious and more grounded. It also washes your worries away and you can’t help, but blame it on the weed wearing off your body. You are happy you are sober now and you wish it was something else that sobered you and not a random guy groping you at the party you shouldn’t have been at, at all. You don’t puke and you rinse your mouth with green mouth wash that you find on the sink. Haruchiyo has the same one at his apartment. You think if he is already aware of what happened. You should call him tomorrow and say you are okay, you are fine. Nothing bad happened. You suppose Rindou has told him, but you want to reassure him yourself. Ran sits on the floor when you emerge from the bathroom, wearing black sweats and grey t-shirt. You know it’s his clothes and you know when he raises his head and sees you wearing them, the corner of his lips tug up. He is quick to lower his head again, eyes on the chicken and fries neatly divided between two plates, as he motions you to come join him.

This time you do it without hesitation. You eat in silence. Words on the tip of your tongue you so desperately want to say something, but it’s not your turn to talk and so you wait, until he gathers up and says what he has to say to you. “You are staying here. I already called your mom and told her you are with me so you don’t have to worry about it. I also spoke with Rindou and he’ll stay at the convention until the end. He won’t return tomorrow as he initially wanted.” You don’t say anything back. The fast food Ran bought is delicious and this apartment with him in it is a pleasant nice memory you dissolve in. You sip on your beloved iced lemon tea and you hope this moment of the night will never end or it will snatch you away. Imprison you in its comfort. “How do you feel?” His purple eyes never leave your presence and while the question is expected, you never wanted him to ask you that, because for once you don’t want to lie anymore. You are sick and tired of lying. “I am fine now, but I don’t think I’ll be tomorrow morning when I leave and I’ll probably get worse when I am home and alone.” He hums to that, shaking his head. His hair is parted in two nicely done braids. It’s longer than you remember it and yet it’s the same. “You won’t go home tomorrow morning. You are staying here until the answer to that question is I am good. Until I see you are better I am not letting you go.”

“Ran, I don’t think it works like that.” “Then, we’ll make it work like that.”

That puts an end to your conversation. Together you wash dishes and he returns to his room, while you slip in Rindou’s bed and close your eyes. Violence is never an answer to you, and maybe Ran didn’t mean to enforce anything on you, and that’s why he didn’t close the door to his room as he always did before [you remember it so, but he might have changed, it’s been years after all], but you want to try. You so desperately want to feel good, you are willing to do anything. _ The next morning comes and you are the first to wake up. Ran’s room is dark and silent. The door is still open. There’s no sound coming out. Everything is still and motionless, but alive. That’s how you know he is actually home, inside his room sleeping peacefully.

You don’t move around much. You don’t want to wake him up, because you do remember how grumpy he gets when someone disturbs his sleep. So, instead, you return back to Rindou’s bedroom and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Your phone is still in Ran’s possession and you are quite bored. Not that you can do much with it, but you could have messaged Rindou or Haruchiyo. It’s better than doing anything and in Rindou’s bedroom there’s nothing much to shorten the time you have until Ran wakes up.

It’s around noon when your back gets so stiff and you just simply can’t fall asleep again no matter how hard you try, so you get off the bed and stride into the kitchen. The cupboards don’t have much and it’s even worse than at Haruchiyo’s house. That boy at least has a collection of tea, instant coffees, chicken take-outs leftovers and rice. All Haitanis have are a pack of rice, one cup of instant noodles, a carrot, two cans of spam and five eggs. It’s all definitely courtesy of Rindou. Ran solely survives on deliveries and eating in those favourite posh restaurants of his.

It’s another hour and a smell of grilled spam that lures him out of the bed. He crosses the corner that separates his bedroom and kitchen, and with a heavy blanket across his shoulder and droopy eyes that are ready to close any second, stares at you. “What are you cooking?”

“Rice with spam and eggs.” “I didn’t know we had eggs. Good. I’ll be right back.”

He disappears into his room and then reappears a second after and goes straight into the bathroom and you standing in their little kitchen for the first time since yesterday shrink in size, feeling very very small. It’s all too strange, you comprehend, mind spiralling and angry and so frustrated. So so so strange for you to be here, in Ran’s and Rindou’s kitchen, cooking a miserable attempt at breakfast at noon, for yourself and a guy with whom you once were so close, but then you haven’t spoken in almost two years and now…

You freeze, hands raised mid-air, and mouth slightly parted. Breathing in and out. In and out. In and out.

Now… Now, there’s rice on the stove and you need to reach for bowls, which should be in the cupboard right in front of you. That’s if they didn’t wake up one day and decided to store their dishes in the drawer next to the fridge.

Now, you need to turn the stove off, so the spam will stay crispy, and not turn into an ugly tasteless black coal. You need to do all this and that’s what you do. Ran is back to you in almost no time. He watches you carefully, and you wonder if he sees your worries in your trembling hands and bitten lips, in how you avoid his intense gaze. But if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Wordlessly, he helps you by taking both of the bowls, leaving you to grab chopsticks and soya sauce.

He settles on the floor and you sit next to him, putting a comfortable distance between the two of you.

It’s very Ran to not turn on the TV. He eats quietly, throwing a small praise your way, that means nothing, because it’s just an appreciative humming and a couple of pleased curses. You eat too, because there’s nothing else to do and you are kinda hungry. It’s also is a distraction enough not to send you down your torture tunnel again. You welcome it happily, grabbing the opportunity with both hands. You welcome Ran staring at you too. You suppose you are acting as the TV for him today. The thought makes you smile. “Yesterday, when I arrived, no one would tell me who was the guy that made you uncomfortable by touching you,” he starts, confident with purple eyes never leaving you. “They only spoke when I kneeled one of them down and stepped on their fingers.” The rice in front of you, sticky from the yolk, dances. You wish you could dance too, but you haven’t had a good dance since the last party with Haruchiyo and Rindou almost two weeks ago, where Rindou got so drunk, he couldn’t remember what his name was, but he remembered you. That moment was sweet and you think the moment now isn't really so, but your mouth suddenly tastes like cotton candy and it’s a pleasant feeling. A great even.

“I broke the fingers of the guy who touched you yesterday and I broke every single finger on the hands of the guys who touched you that day. It was a mess, but there won’t be a day now in their lives, that they won’t feel the pain and that’s all I wish for.” “Ran…” The bowl is too heavy for you to hold and the rice isn’t dancing anymore, nor does the world move and you doubt anything exists past this apartment. The white noise and deafening eerie silence envelope you in their deadly hug. But you don’t want them to touch you. You want to swim in Ran’s eyes that carry no remorse or guilt or pity, but acceptance and comfort. Tenderness seeps through him like the sand of the broken hourglass. If he suffocates you with it, burying you under him, you won’t mind it.

You won’t mind it at all. “You don’t have to say anything,” he laughs, clearly amused by your lack of reaction or from the plentiness of it. “Good.” “Yeah, good. Finish your food and let’s go grocery shopping. We don’t have anything to eat in this house and Rindou’s stack of shochu isn’t much to my taste.” “He still has a stack of shochu?” “That’s the only thing you are worrying about?” “No, but…” “I am teasing you. Yes, he has. It’s in the cupboard next to the fridge.” Well, it seems like nothing much changed in their apartment after all. Bowls in the cupboards and stacks of shochu, and everything else in between.

Two years after last visiting, you feel like it was just yesterday. A nice revived warm memory. You hope it will linger for a little more, its light pleasantly warming your cold hands. _ Your phone is somewhere inside Ran’s room and he isn’t willing to give it to you. It’s also a no trespasse territory so you don’t dare to go in there and take it yourself. “Did Rindou call?” You ask on your second day spent with Ran. It’s raining outside. Quite heavily so, but inside this little cute cafe that serves only coffees and cheesecakes, it’s warm and safe. “He called me,” Ran says, cutting his lemon cheesecake in half and transferring the piece to your plate. He cuts off part of your strawberry one for himself too. “Asked what we were doing and how are you doing. Don’t worry about him. He is getting drunk, high and probably has a couple of girls in his bed to warm it. I bet he is having a good time.”

“It’s good then. I want him to have a good time.” Ran hums, takes a sip of his black coffee that obviously doesn’t taste good at all and observes you. Eyes squinting and all. It would’ve been uncomfortable before, but it’s not anymore. In these two full days you spent with him in his apartment it’s almost like all those years before. “Your other friend called though and sent lots of messages.” You don’t have to ask to know who this friend is and Ran understands it very well, because he continues without waiting for you to ask who he is talking about. “I answered him and told him you’ll stay with me. Apparently what I did at the party reached him.”

Never once he looks away from you, waiting for anything from you. A small frown, barely there sigh, tears or glossy eyes. But nothing comes, so he asks. Simply, because he desires to know. “Are you upset? I can give you your phone back if you want to call Kakucho. I know you’ve become close since that party.” There’s nothing you are feeling. No sadness, no remorse, no heart in the stomach. It stays in your chest where it’s supposed to be. So you shrug and put a little bit of yellow cheesecake on your spoon. You taste it, the back of the spoon hanging from your mouth. It tastes good. Really really good.

“I am not upset and we are just close friends. Nothing more.” “Nothing more?” “Nope.” “That’s good. Anyway, do you want to rent something to watch later today?” It is good and yes you do. Of course you do.

With his hair up in a messy bun, loose strands falling all over his face and glasses always falling off past his nose bridge, Ran looks ridiculous. You tell him just that.

He also looks very domestic, very warm and safe, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He understands it anyway.

_ On the fourth day of getting back to Ran he leaves the apartment very early in the morning and doesn’t return until the evening when the clock strikes eight.

It’s very boring without him there. With nothing to do you read Rindou’s book about healthy food and when you finish it, you read his handouts about the importance of music in western world. Both food and music are dull topics to you, but with nothing to do it’s better than just sitting on the sofa and waiting for Ran to come home. You also watch TV. MTV with loud pop and all the same techno music and then some soap opera with an all too obvious plot on TBS. You even tune in on the football match on TBS Sports and find it a bit entertaining.

But then the match ends and Ran isn’t home yet and you have no idea where your phone is so you could’ve called him [you don’t have his number], so you get up and get to cooking. Cooking is nice and it’s creative enough for you to lose yourself in it. You notice a pack of shaving razor’s on the kitchen countertop and wonder how they even got there.

You take them back to the bathroom. When Ran does come home it’s dark outside and he doesn’t look any different. It’s raining again and his hair and clothes are a bit wet, which makes you think that he didn’t use his car. You so want to ask him where he has been and why has he left you alone, but you don’t dare.

You stare at him from the safe space of Rindou’s room. Watch him take his coat off, then his boots and then he is right by your side. “I wanna see your scars,” he asks, almost pleading, and this is so unlike him, so not Ran and everything you know about him, you think you heard him wrong, but he repeats, “I want to see you. You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” And you aren’t. You were never afraid of Ran and his vicious, sometimes cruel, nature, because to you he was never like that. You never saw him as a person capable of turning another human being's fingers into a bloody mess that won’t ever heal. To you, Ran is Ran. Beautiful sleepy eyes and gentle touches. A never ending worry for the people he loves and all the knowledge about flowers he once read in the encyclopaedia of his gone from his life forever mother.

Without saying anything, holding onto each other’s gaze, you strip to your underwear. Your scars ugly tissues of messy skin, are wanting to be hidden. They scream at you and cry and rebel. They promise you, you can hide them under other scars, more brutal, more deadly, more deep, but you don’t believe them anymore.

Nothing ever will steal them away from you. They are now you and you have to carry them for as long as you live. No sharks or stakes are the option.

Cold fingers burn your warm skin. Ran’s hands glide across every patch of your existence that once were wronged by you. He finds every single one. On your arms, your legs and thighs. Your ribs and lower back. He doesn’t say anything, but his hands tremble and that is enough for you to understand everything. Him and his reasons.

When he claws your waist with his fingertips and brings you close to him in an impossible tight hug, you start crying. Your own hands fist the plush of his sweater and you want it gone, because you need to feel him close to you. Skin to skin and nothing apart.

The pressure from his fingers is painful, and if he presses more, he’ll leave blooming bruises, but you won’t mind it. You wouldn’t mind it at all, because just this once it’s so nice to be safe and sound in the arms of someone other than Rindou or Haruchiyo. It’s so nice, so so nice, to want something more and not be afraid of it.

It’s like blooming camellias and stinging honey bees.

_ Fully dressed with sanrio cookies Ran got at 7-Eleven, you sit near him on the floor, on the Rindou’s blanket you spread across it for warmth and comfort. Your tears have long dried and the Ghibli movie is now playing on the TV. The room is dark, the rain is still falling and Ran is slowly falling asleep.

“You know, I’ve never rejected you,” he yawns, laying down. “That summer. I didn’t reject you. I thought you and Rin had something going on between you and that’s why I said what I said. Maybe if I were to… Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Let’s just watch the movie.” Ran doesn’t make it to the end. He dozes off right at the moment when Chichiro boards the train and suddenly you too lose interest in a magical movie with so much sense behind its gentle animation. For a couple of seconds that stretch into an endless drop of water you bring your knees to your chest and stare outside the window. The view is nothing much. A grey building and dimly lit street lamp. Not a soul passes under the windows and you don’t hear any voices or laughs. No steps or coughs and rustling of clothes. Maybe there’s a black cat there somewhere, but its paws are too soft to make any noise. It most definitely won’t reach the second floor. Especially with rain meeting the pavement and cars and roofs, and maybe cats, but hopefully not.

That night that summer it was raining too or so you were told, because you don’t remember. Drunk, high and very very sad you were brought into Haruchiyo’s apartment where he cared for you as best as an eighteen year boy could about an eighteen year old wronged girl. And in that crumpled dusty bar in Roppongi another act of love was happening. More vicious and more cold. Rindou has never told you about it, but you know him and Ran well enough to know that they did it together. Haitani brothers and all.

You are too lazy to go to the kitchen and put sanrio cookies in the cupboard where they belong so you place them on the table near the TV. You grab the remote and switch the movie off. Darkness envelops the apartment, but you are used to it and then there’s that street lamp with its light and Ran. Slowly, you sneak under the blanket and curl next to him.

His breaths are even and methodical. His heart beats the same and he is very very warm. He is asleep and you so desperately want to sneak into his dream and live there. Meet the bees and blooming camellias along with other beautiful flowers he knows by heart. It must smell so good there and it must be day. Full family at the table and everything is good. Cats can be heard from miles away and fire is never burning the skin, only purifying. It never hurts there.

Just like it never hurts near Ran.

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Ran turns on the side, arm hooking across your waist and brings you closer to him, his body and his peace, “You are waking me up with those thoughts of yours. It’s gonna be alright. We are… I… It’s… I…” Whatever he said is lost on you, because he falls asleep again. This time, in his arms, in his warmth, it’s easier for you to close your eyes, because after many many days you are eager to open them again. _ This time, you don’t wake up first, but you wake under an intense gaze and hand caressing your face. He doesn’t stop when you open your eyes, curiously, looking at him and you don’t stop him when he leans in and kisses you. Slowly and sweetly. Besides drunk games at parties where you pecked a couple of boys, you’ve never ever kissed anyone, because you loved them. And right now doing exactly that - kissing the person you love, - your chest burns and you are not sure what you are supposed to do and how to suppress all those whimpers and moans you are so readily feed Ran with.

Somewhere in the kiss, right after he hugs you impossibly closer to him, both arms around you, he smiles. The flame in your chest is now fire, and so you push him away. “What?” He asks leaning in again, this time pressing wet open mouthed kisses across your jaw. It makes it harder to speak, breath uneven and clogged, “Why are you smiling?” Surprised, he looks up, “I thought you were gonna ask me what the kiss was about, but you so you, and… why do you think I am smiling?” He waits for an answer and your brain runs kilometres in a millisecond, but you can’t come up with a decent answer that is not embarrassing or humiliating and full of self–doubt. Instead, you want to kiss Ran more and you want him to hug you tight again, hands holding you together, in one piece. And so you do. And it feels nice and it feels beautiful and right. And probably you should have had a conversation about all these before, but as he said you are you and he is Ran Haitani, and you kinda like doing everything in mysterious complicated ways only understandable to you. So you kiss more and he kisses across your face and under your jaw and then your neck where he plants bites and hickeys that bloom right away. Pretty shades of purple. Only when you are sitting on top of him and his hands slide under your [his] shirt, does he stop. Hair a wild mess, he tilts his head and retracts his hands from your bare waist moving them to your face, which he cradles with all the gentleness in the world. He searches for something, anything, in your expression, but only finds swollen lips and pretty eyes that hold all the stored love they never gave away. And he crumbles, falling so hard and so fast, you hear the air crying and flowers blooming in his chest.

Right at this moment, you both know, he’d do whatever you want and this will either be the best reward of his life or his demise. [As if you ever would let the last happen]. Ran presses a small barely there kiss to the corner of your lips and nudges your cheek with his nose. He takes a deep content breath full of the meaning you don’t catch on. Not because you don’t understand, but because you can’t, because he holds your head to his and kisses that sweet place right below your ear. Because he whispers, asking you, “How do you feel?” “Good. I feel good, Ran. I really really do,” you breathe out, hands clutching onto his shoulders. You can’t see his face, he buries it in your neck, inhaling your very being into himself. Storing you and what you are to the depths of his heart to where he will never let anyone reach.

Your skin absorbs his smile and it makes you happy. So happy, you believe, if you died right there in his arms, an army of bees and the prettiest pink camellias would swerve from your ashes and Ran would name them all.

_ The afternoon was spent exchanging lazy kisses and tender caresses. The time passes and the rain continues and when you stand outside of Haitani’s apartment building waiting for Ran who forgot his card upstairs, you inhale the wet aroma of pavement and green leaves and everything seems fine. Uncertain and wobbly, but fine.

You actually believe that if sharks would come right now and try to swallow you for the first time ever you would fucking fight them. And they would back off. _ “You know, we should have ordered,” Ran complains in his small accusatory voice that you haven’t heard in so long. “You are soaking.” “Maybe. But then the poor delivery guy would’ve suffered and the food would be cold and…” Ran gives you the look. The one you haven’t forgotten, but could never crack up before. Where he believes you are very cute, but hella naive and a bit stupid. Now, though, you know what this small smile with a very relaxed face means. Now, that you know, you just nod embarrassment overflowing, and turn away from him, cheeks hot and hands trembling. He notices it all. He finds you endearingly cute. So cute, he wants to tear you apart. “You know, let’s just eat our burgers and get home.” “Burgers and fries, Ran. You did order fries, right?” “Yeah. Yeah. And fries. I just really wanna get you home.” _

“Say it again,” Ran murmurs, tenderly kissing your right cheek. His hair is still wet from the shower and his skin is slightly tinted red from the hot water. The huge tattoo that splits his body in half is more evident than ever and you find your gaze lingering there, tracing pretty shapes of it.

He doesn’t wear much. Only sweatpants. And straddling him, legs hugging his hips, you can clearly tell that there’s nothing under them. Only him and his bare skin. The smell of his shampoo and gel shower lingers in the room and it’s unclear if it’s from him or from you since you’ve been indulgently using his toiletries this whole time. Not because you always wanted to be closer to him, but because there was just no way you’d use Rindou’s mint one. Vanilla and bergamot it is then.

And now, all senses high and elevated, you claw at Ran’s naked shoulders, letting him slowly mouth your neck and you throw your head back, and you inhale this pleasant aroma that will forever remain you of these days and you desperately try to compose yourself. Dissolving into him would be easier, but you want to remember every single moment and every single sensation, and so you stay. “When was the last time you had sex?” In his question there’s no shame or hesitation, and it’s good. Really good. Because Ran doesn’t want to hide his intentions and pretend nothing is going to happen since this morning it was clear you would be under him today.

“And with whom. I wanna know who had you last.” There’s slight fear in his last demand and you want to wonder why, but you stop yourself before your mind could create impossible scenarios and trap you. You pull back a little, peering into his face. You need to know why he is asking you this and as if he understands you, he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I am asking, because I need to know how hard I can go and what you can take from me.” His hands, warm and attentive, slide under your shirt. You too wear nothing under it. He doesn’t seem too surprised when he finds it out. Instead, he stops at the small of your back and hugs you closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you or make you do something you aren’t ready for.” If not for the gentle fire in your heart, you would’ve cried. But you drop your head down, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. There’s something in them you aren’t mentally prepared for and Ran should be fearing about it more, than he does about sex. “I am not afraid of you and you won’t hurt me.” You say and then something possesses you and you cradle his face in your palms and you hold the whole world there and he isn’t aware of it and everything hurts, but in a good sweet way. “Can we kiss some more? I really like kissing you and I like you. You asked me to say it again and I will. I like you, Ran. So so so much.”

Ran kisses wet and sloppily and he grabs at your waist so clumsily, so unsure and so uncertain that it sells him immediately away. He has never kissed anyone like this and now that he has it has him spiralling. And so out of his mind, he pulls you closer, his bare chest against your [his] t-shirt and he does it again, and then again and again, as if could possibly merge with you, because being like this seems so so so far away to him. He wants you closer and it physically hurts him not being able to. And so he takes a good look at your flustered face, your perfect collarbones picking out of the loose clothing and dives in to kiss you again. This time he doesn’t stop only at your lips, but he mouths across your neck, guiding his tongue across the bruises he left this morning. He smiles all the way down to your collarbones and his smile makes you smile too, and despite you being quite shy and awkward you grin, melting in his happiness.

If that’s how love feels, it feels good, it feels right and it might help you. It should. You want to give it the power to.

Somewhere between losing yourself in each other completely and starving hands, Ran hooks his fingers under the hem of your t-shirt and lifts it upwards. There must not be enough of you for him and so he wants more. But you freeze, heart beating so fast, it’s going to burst any second now, and Ran understands. He puts a gentle sweet kiss on your lips and presses his forehead to yours.

His breathing is ragged and fast.

“We don’t have to do anything. It won’t be good for you if you feel…,” he starts, but you take all those words with your mouth on his. You don’t want to hear what he has to say, because you know what it’s going to be. And you don’t want your fear to overwhelm you, because that’s what has been living inside you and that’s what you’ve been trying to carve out of your soul. With razors, scissors and knives. Never with love or understanding. You slip away from him. You take off your shirt and place it near you on the bed. Ran watches you. His eyes are hazy and unfocused, but not any move of yours passes by unattended by him. He glides over your breasts and there’s a slight jerk under you and suddenly you want to hide yourself. You almost do, but then you think better of it and you raise your hips and you try to take your sweatpants off, but Ran stops you. “Don’t,” he murmurs, flipping you on your back. “Don’t. I wanna do everything myself. I want to undress you myself. And I want you to kiss your body and I want to play with your tits until you lose your mind and then I want to eat you out and make you cum, because you fucking deserve it. Because this fucking tension needs to go the fuck away. Okay? And then I want to kiss you and then I want to fuck you and I will watch your face as I do it. I’ve always wanted to see your sweet pretty face under me. Always wanted to hear how you will scream for me and how insanely perfect you’ll be with my cock inside you. Okay?” You nod and he does exactly what he said. And Ran is attentive and careful and very very kind. He talks you through everything and doesn’t push your buttons even though a couple of times you secretly wish he did. That night it’s only one round. Mainly because he is too exhausted and sleepy after he cleans you up and dresses you in his boxers and a new clean t-shirt.

You don’t change sheets though and decide against opening the window. Because it’s heavily raining outside again and because none of you wants to get up from the warm bed and lose the comfort of each other. “Is it too early to say that I love you?” He whispers, taking a full deep breath.

You think it’s not, but you say that it is and he laughs seemingly seeing through your small insincerity. “Okay. Then you should ride me tomorrow morning. I deserve it after today.” “You know, Ran, I think this is too, too early to ask of me.” “Really?” “Well, yeah.” “But I kinda already asked and I kinda already…” A loud thunderstorm slams Tokyo and you get startled. Your body is aching in all the pleasant ways and you don’t have any capability in yourself to continue this ridiculous conversation. You press a kiss to his chest and hide yourself in the crook of his neck. You are safe and you are in love and pain is still there, and memories will never die, but pink camellias are blooming and bees are going to return. _ Rindou is not supposed to get back next afternoon, but he does.

It’s still raining and Haruchiyo is at his back complaining about how much he hates humidity, because his hair gets all frizzy and ugly. [Not that someone particularly cares about Haruchiyo’s hair, but Rindou is too tired to argue with him, so he just hums.] Because he understands where Haruchiyo comes from and he is also still tipsy.

Yesterday, before boarding the bus they did drink a little too much. But the bar they camped in in the night, ditching the comfort of the hotel, was nice and the girl that sucked Rindou off in the back alley behind that said bar, was pretty much exceptional, so he won’t complain.

Besides, he and Haruchiyo, but Rindou more or so he believes, were too worried for you to stay in Osaka. All the girls in the back alleys be damned, they need to see you and make sure you are alright. Short unconstant messages from Ran - “oh, she is fine”, “don’t worry i got her” and “she’ll be just fine” - were not cutting the white patch of horrors off for him.

Rindou needed to talk to you. He needed to do his little check up and maybe [most definitely] buy you some expensive patterned paper and a couple of cute storage boxes. And because he feels generous enough you’ll stop at Daiso and buy all the stickers you want too.

“Does it smell like mackerel or am I tripping? Again,” deadpans Haruchiyo taking off his soaking wet shoes. He dumps the sports bag with all his clothes next to Rindou’s and waits for him to take his last evening white now grey Adidas sneakers to go check into the living room. It does indeed smell like grilled fish and vegetables inside the apartment. Tofu and spring onion. He tries his very best to remember when was the last time their apartment smelt of homemade food and simply can’t. To his own dismay, this special cosiness of familiarity and domesticity were more native to Haruchiyo’s studio. But that’s only because you spent a lot of time there.

Getting high, getting creative and being you. It clicks and responds and suddenly everything makes perfect sense and they could’ve stayed in Osaka for two days more as planned.

So when they enter the living room and find you picking out bones out of the fish, Rindou is not surprised. He is not surprised when he notices that it’s actually Ran’s plate in front of you and this small act of service is for him and him only. And he is so not surprised when his own brother doesn’t pay any attention to them staring at you both. His thin lips curled into a tiny smile, chin prompted on his hands as he watches you knowing there won’t be anyone else.

And there never were.

It’s all so simple and so fucking stupid.

“Rindou! Haru!” You notice them, of course you do, and you set the chopsticks aside and run to them, somehow hugging both of them at such an awkward angle, the hug doesn’t last long.

In the back, Ran clearly rolls his eyes and drags the plate with the boneless fish to him. It makes a disturbing screeching sound.

“Weren’t you supposed to be back much later? Like in two days?”

“We changed plans,” Rindou replies without an ounce of venom or disappointment of whatever else he is supposed to feel right now at his brother’s not so inviting tone, “But I guess we were wrong to rush.” Near him Haruchiyo snorts, Ran laughs a little and you with your neck and collarbones a perfect constellation of purple flowers, get so shy, Rindou himself cracks a smile.

It’s evident where he is looking and what he is reading from it all, and your hand - trembling as per usual - flies to your head, in a poor attempt to cover what can be seen from miles away. More than anything, at this moment, Rindou wants to tell you that there’s nothing you should be ashamed of, nothing to worry about in his presence.

Hickeys, cuts, bruises and all the blemishes are evidence of feelings and we people are meant to feel them. We are meant to experience them in our own ways.

But he can’t say that now. He’ll do it later.

Now, he throws his arm around your shoulders, kisses the top of your head and excuses himself to the bathroom.

He needs that hot fucking shower now.

_ Three days later the rain stops.

Haruchiyo goes home the day after they arrive from Osaka and you spend two more nights at Haitani’s.

You leave when it’s sunny and not so cold for January. Ran offers you his long grey coat and a deep kiss to your lips. At that Rindou rolls his eyes, but he is smiling and so it’s fine.

They both promise you they’ll stop by your apartment in the evening to go have dinner together. You all settle on something french. It’s weird how today your wants align and you aren’t about to pass this extreme luck of not quarrelling on where to eat.

[You feel like today is going to be a nice day.]

Your parents are home. Your little sister too. The house smells like butter and caramel. They probably had something sweet and nice for breakfast. The last time you ate with them together in the morning was so far away you can barely remember it. It saddens you, but only a little.

“What are you watching?” You ask your sister. She sits on the floor, her legs inside the kotatsu. It seems to be a new one, because the wooden frame is white instead of dark brown. You’ve never noticed they changed it and you don’t know why. Something might have happened to it or perhaps your mom just wanted a small change. She can be like that sometimes.

“National Geographic,” she replies without turning her head. “Is it interesting?” You genuinely inquire and she gives you a weirded out look. She shrugs, “I guess so. You learn a lot of things about the world we live in. Like did you know that all flowers have meanings behind them? Yellow roses mean friendship, tulips mean perfect love and camellias symbolise romantic love, adoration and care. It’s pretty cool. Don’t you think so?”

From the kitchen with two puddings and small all too familiar from childhood silver spoon in her hands emerges your mother. She has a sweet hesitant smile and her face is so lovely and you missed her so so so much. She sits next to you and opens the pudding for you. You think that if she was to feed you, you’d gladly accept. Any neglected love you can take from her you will. “Oh, and bees… that don’t fly south. They actually never fly away,” your sister says and your mother laughs for one reason or another and there’s tears in her eyes and what your sister just said makes no sense at all to anyone,

but you. [Maybe tomorrow will be the same too.]

#haitani x reader #haitani ran imagines #haitani brothers #ran #ran fluff #ran x y/n #ran x reader #ran x you #ran haitani #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev smut #haitani rindou #sanzu haruchiyo

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corrodedcoffins-blog · 5 months

Text

The First Meeting

main masterlist

spencer reid x famous!reader Universe

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: stalking, murder, character asking to die (if I missed something please let me know)

Today was supposed to be an easy day for the BAU. It was a paperwork day, no case, no one dying on their watch.

These were some of Spencer's favourite days, don’t get him wrong he loves being in the field and profiling killers, and when they arrest an unsub, that’s the best feeling.

But having days every now and again where they don’t have to travel and Spencer can read and reflect on their previous case, he greatly enjoys it. And he can’t say he’s the only one, but he can say he’s the only one that uses paperwork days to do paperwork.

Penelope walks in the glass doors humming a tune, foreign to Spencer.

“You got that James Dean day dream, hmm hm mhmmm, I got that red lip classic”

“What’s got you so happy, babygirl?” Derek says, from across Spencer.

“Um, because The Met Gala is tonight! Biggest night in Fashion! And no case means I can watch it.”

“Oh, I must have forgot to put it on my calendar.” Derek, sarcastically remarks while getting up and out of his chair on his way to refill his coffee cup. All the while JJ comes rushing the bullpen, giving the rest of her co-workers a sympathetic face.

“Just when I thought, we would have an easy day.” Emily mumbles getting out her desk chair and walking away with JJ.

“Wally Melman, a music producer in New York, was killed two weeks ago, and Natali Ryan , a singer and songwriter, was killed 4 days ago also in New York.” JJ says while the screen behind her shows pictures of the crime scene.

“The police said they found pictures with the victim's face with ‘You’re Next’ written in red marker across their face. Suspected to have gotten in the mail.”

“And why have they called us now?” Derek says, clearing knowing there was more JJ was going to say but wanting her to get to it quicker.

“Yesturday, another singer/songwriter, by the name of Y/n L/n-”

“Oh. My God!” Penny interrupts JJ, having come in to tell the team an update she had gotten from the NYPD. “uh- sorry, I’m sorry.. Um, the NYPD wants a couple of us to go straight to the crime scene once we land, and that the next vic- uh Y/n L/n I suppose- is at the station waiting.” Penny says, turning and leaving after finishing her sentence.

“Okay everyone, wheels up in 30. JJ can fill us in on the jet.”

When the team arrived in New York, Hotch sent Rossi and Emily to the recent crime scene, and JJ to talk to the media, while himself, Spencer, and Derek went to the station.

When the three got to the station they were shown the note Y/n had gotten from the unsub, different to the others, hers having ‘You Owe Me’ written across her face instead. The team walked into the room they were told Y/n would be in.

Spencer knew she would be pretty, everyone in Hollywood was gorgeous that’s how it worked, but this girl was easily the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon, even with her bleached hair that he could assume was a split second decision.

She sat on a chair next to one of the officers' desks, as if she was like everyone else and not a world-wide popstar. Y/n and her manager Joe look up, hearing footsteps walk into the room. She stood up to shake Hotch’s hand.

“Hi, I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you and thank you so much.” “Of course”

She goes to shake Derek hand, saying a greeting similar to the one she gave Hotch, then she comes face to face with Spencer, or possibly- not definitely the most beautiful man she has ever seen, sticking out her hand she says, “Hi, nice to meet you..”

“Dr. Spencer Reid- or just Spencer, you don’t have to call me doctor.” “Nice to meet you Spencer.” Y/n stays looking at Spencer maybe a second longer than she should have. It’s just so hard to look away from a man that beautiful. When Y/n does finally look away, she takes a seat and they begin their questioning.

“How well do you know Natalie Ryan?”

“Uh, we talked when we were at the same events and were always friendly, but we weren’t friends.”

“How about Wally Melman?”

“What?”

“Wally Melman, he was a producer who was killed a couple months ago.” Spencer jumps in, making Y/n turn to address him, while she asks her next statement .

“The paper said that it was a robbery.” “The paper was wrong.” Derek responded quickly.

“Did you know him?” Hotch asks, wanting to get back to the questions he has for Y/n.

“I wanted to work with him on my last album, but he started working with..” Y/n cut herself off.

“Who?” Spencer asks concernedly, seeing the scared look on Y/n's face.

“Natalie Ryan, and they beat Y/n for song of the year” Joe says while Y/n is setting her face to rest in her hands, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Do you ever have the feeling that someone is following you, or watching you?” Derek asks.

“Only every second I spend outside my house. I have fans, and paparazzi following me everywhere. It’s part of the job.”

“Do you ever get repetitive phone calls, hang ups, or gifts sent anonymously?” Spencer asks.

“I receive flowers, Lilies, my favourite. The seventh of each month they get sent to each of my homes, they just show up on the doorstep. Never a note, nothing.”

After a few more of their questions it just becomes too much, knowing that these people are being killed because of her or ‘for’ her and Y/n gets up and leaves the room. Not being able to actually leave given the cameras outside, she doesn’t get too far. And Spencer is right behind her.

“Y/n wait!”

“Can you explain what the hell is going on?”

“Well, it’s still rather speculative, but it appears there’s a delusional assassin who’s killing people to help further your career. It probably started as a stalker. An erotomaniac stalker. There’s a psychopathology of the evolution of these types of stalkers and the fact that he’s contacting you indicates that he believes you owe him something. This model frequently concludes itself with one of two possibilities, either the stalker will kill himself or he’ll kill the object of his affection.”

If Spencer wasn’t talking about the possibility of Y/n’s untimely death, she would have had more time to find Spencer’s rambling and seemingly never ending knowledge hot.

Y/n had gotten home from her time at the station, hoping to be able to relax as she has the Met tomorrow night. But when she had gotten to her front door the yellow notepad paper taped onto it caught her eye.

After reading the note she called the station immediately. The BAU had arrived looking over the note, Y/n was in the room but not listening, she onlys snaps back into listening to the conversations when she hears Spencer.

“In English?” one of the officers asks.

“That is English actually.” Y/n smiles at that, while Spencer continues, getting cut off by Derek not too far into his explanation. Y/n finally speaks up, after the team starts talking about how she should continue, as if she isn’t there.

“I’m standing right here guys..”

“If we did remove you from the street, you couldn’t stay here, we would have to take you to an undisclosed location.”

“I have a fitting here in 30 mins, and the Met tonight, then I’m all yours. Look, I don't want to be afraid of this lunatic.”

"We can clear all but essential personnel, and up your security.”

“Derek and Spencer will stay here with you.”

“Okay.”

The team getting Y/n ready for the Met have set up, Y/n just finished getting hair and makeup done in just her underwear and a robe. Spencer walks up to Y/n while she’s opening a greenhouse ginger shot to drink.

“I’m sorry if I was insensitive earlier.” Spencer says, referring to when he followed her outside of the questioning room and told her there was a possibility this stalker/assassin guy will kill her, just a tad insensitive.

But nonetheless Y/n responds with, “It’s fine, you were just doing your job, right?” “Yeah.” Y/n takes her ginger shot with a look of remorse on her face. She reaches for the soda in Spencer’s hand, to wash it down.

“You don’t mind sharing with me do you?” Spencer quickly shakes his head mumbling a quick ‘no’ while Y/n’s team calls her to get into the dress, Y/n takes off the robe she was wearing, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen, then throwing the robe over a nearby chair. Now standing in just her underwear she smiles at Spencer before walking over to the team helping her get into the dress.

Leaving Spencer to watch her as she subtly sways her hips slightly more than usual when she walks. Spencer takes a sip of the soda Y/n had handed back after taking a sip, Derek coming over to tease Spencer about the scene he just watched.

“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” “Shut up.” Spencer says as he walks away. “Go get ‘em, lover.”

Y/n didn’t get to stay at the Met nearly as long as she wished. With double the security and Spencer there with her, she knew she wouldn’t have the night she was hoping for, but maybe something close.

But as she danced with Tom Hiddleston, Spencer got the call to take her to the safe house. Spencer didn’t really want to interrupt Y/n dancing on who he assumes is another famous person, but he had to, for her safety.

“Um- Y- Y/n we have to go.” Spencer says while struggling to gain her attention.

“Really?” “Yeah..” “Okay” she sighs, turning to Tom, mumbling an apology and some fake excuse.

They got to Y/n's home. Spencer rambling about safety measures Y/n should take. “You should also probably change all your phone numbers.” “I’m unlisted.” “Anytime you call an 800 number or an 888 number your phone number’s put into a data bank that’s then sold to telemarketers. If someone gets your cell phone number they can go online and research all your records.”

Y/n looks at Spencer expecting him to continue, but when he doesn’t she assumes he’s done, and gets up to walk into her kitchen, saying as she gets up, “You’re very cute when you ramble.” Causing Spencer to freeze but when she turns the corner out of his sight he rushes to keep up with her.

“You should also probably carry a piece of paper and a pen with you wherever you go in case you see any suspicious licence plates that often reappear.” Spence trails of looking closely at a collage hung up on Y/n’s wall

“It’s a photographic collage. I like how obscure it is.”

“You should also get a dog. Like a guard dog of some sort.” Spencer says, staring intently at the collage but not acknowledging what Y/n said about it.

“I don’t think so, I'm a cat person. Dogs are not for me… Earl grey good?”

“Wha- what?”

“Tea, do you want some tea?”

“Uh yes, yes sure.”

“Okay” Y/n says smiling at his nervousness.

Y/n walks into the living room, in her swimsuit with a robe overtop, coming to stand next to Spencer while he stares intently at the picture collage on Y/n’s wall.

“Are you feeling anything?” “There is something definitely appealing about it.” “That’s a start” Y/n says while chuckling.

Turning on her heels towards the back door to the pool. This catches Spencer’s actions wondering what she's doing, he asks, “What are you doing?” “Going for a swim.” Y/n responds nonchalantly. “What? No, Y/N!” Spencer yells following her, but before he can reach her she dives into the pool.

Swimming up to the surface and wiping her face with her hands. She looks so gorgeous, she looks like a movie star, which is not far off. But Spencer really shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful she is when he’s job is to keep her safe, and her being out here is not safe.

“Y/n, you cannot do this.” “Just a few minutes?” She ‘asks’ while giving Spencer puppy dog eyes. “Go get a suite in the house.” “What? No, I’m not going to grab a suit. Are you kidding me? No.” Spencer says in that high pitched tone he does, she’s only heard it once before, but she can’t help but find it so cute.

“Join me.” “No, I’m going to join you.” “Why not?” “You’re being pursued by a psychotic killer who shoots people in the head!” “I’m not going to stop living my life because of him.” Y/n turns to float in the water. “Y/n, I’m begging you. Will you please get out of the pool?”

“Come on, Spence, you should live a little.” “Live a little? I’ve not known you for 24 hours, I feel like I’ve already aged 10 years.” “Ugh, I can’t be that bad.” “Yes, you are that bad.” Y/n turns off of her back and starts to swim to the edge of the pool Spencer is standing at.

“Fine, but can you help me out at least?” She says putting on an innocent face as if she really did want help out of the pool. When Spencer leans down to grab her hand to help her up, Y/n pulls him into the pool causing a big splash following after Spencer falls in.

Which then causes a laugh to come from Y/n as Spencer rises to the water's surface.

“Yes, very funny. Laugh it up, Y/n. Hilarious. My gun’s wet. That’s just great” Spencer swims to the edge to get his gun out of the water, Y/n swimming behind him, still chuckling.

“My clothes.” “I told you to grab a suit.”

While Spencer looks down at his wet chest, Y/n’s hand comes to rest on his peck, causing Spencer to look up at Y/n. When he looks at her, she is already looking in his eyes, her eyes asking the question ‘do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?’ the answer being ‘yes’ as Spencer starts to lean in. Not knowing what he’s doing, leaning in to kiss Y/n L/n global superstar? Who does he think he is, thinking she would want to kiss him? But contrary to Spencer's beliefs, Y/N leans in too, pulling his body closer to hers faster by his tie. As their lips collide, it feels as if the world slows down. For the first time in a long time Y/n feels normal, regular, ordinary, in the best possible way. She feels in the way Spencer's lips are moving against hers that he doesn’t want her for her fame, or looks, but for her. Just her. But then Spencer pulls away. It had only been a couple seconds, how could a kiss that short hold that much emotion? Spencer’s words stop her from thinking too much.

“This is completely inappropriate.” “Spence..” Y/n looks into Spencer's eyes only looking away when she closes them and pulls him into another kiss, by his tie. This kiss, still sweet and emotion filled, yet rougher, as if they had gotten that much more comfortable now versus 15 seconds ago. Their lips move together roughly, Y/n tongue brushing Spencer’s lips looking for access, which causes Spencer to move his lips back from Y/n’s again. “No, there’s this thing called transference.” Spencer says, all the while Y/n is trying to recover from the best kiss of her life, and Spencer has no idea. “Do you not like me?” “What?” Spencer says quickly like him not liking her, and is just the most insane idea in the world, and truthfully that’s not far off. “Was that kiss not good?” “No- no it was very good.” “Because I like you.” “I like you too. It’s just I’m a federal agent. You know. And I’m supposed to protect you.” “Then you should keep me close.” Y/n mumbles moving her lips to Spencers again. Spencer pulls back to start talking again, as Y/N’s kisses move to his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin every so often, the first nibble causing Spencer to let out a surprised noise that quickly turns into a moan. “I’m just, hmm.. I’m a little worried, you know? We’re in a pool.” “Are we?” “And it’s uh.. We’re pretty much exposed.” Y/n moves to give Spencer's lips a quick peck, before responding to his concerns. “We have cops. We have cops posted out front.” Y/n cuts herself off to kiss Spencer again, “There are coyotes out back.” Y/n pauses looking at Spencer’s lips, while licking her own, then shooting her eyes up to Spencer’s “And then it’s just you and me.” Y/n moves her lips to be hovering over Spencer’s their noses rubbing against each other, it feels much more intimate than just kissing him, breathing in the after shave and cologne mixed with chlorine soaked into his skin is a smell Y/n would never get sick of, no matter how much she hated the smell of chlorine. She moves her lips back to the spot she found on his neck that makes him the most reactive. “Stop- I have to tell you something.” “What?” “I didn’t want to tell you this before, because I was a little bit worried… I didn’t know how to say it, but I can’t not tell you.” “Spence, just tell me. What is it?” “Your manager, Joe… Hotch went to check on him, but he got there too late.” Y/n looks into Spencer’s eyes any ounce of a look that would tell her he wasn’t serious. Because Joe couldn’t be dead. Not because of her, Joe was like family, no matter how weird he was. Joe was always there. Y/n turns away not being able to look at Spencer, “How could you-” She turns back to him, looking Spencer in the eyes as she aks, “How could you not tell me?” “I was afraid you’d be upset.” “You knew? How could you know and not tell me?” “Y/n, I’m so sorry” Y/n moves towards the edge of the pool to pull herself out, Spencer trying to help her. “Don’t- Don’ touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” Y/n gets out walking back into the house with a towel around herself, leaving Spencer in the pool.

Spencer walks into Y/n’s living room, seeing her sitting on her couch crying, he wants to comfort her. Just don't know how. “Y/n?...Are you still… Are you okay?” “Joe was like family.” Hearing Y/n cry hurts Spencer more than he thought possible from a girl he met not even 24 hours ago. “It’s just so hard to trust people in this industry, you don’t know who to believe.Everybody wants something from you. And I felt- I thought you were different.” “I know I should have told you.” “I told him not to.” Rossi cuts in having heard most of the conversation from behind Spencer. “He was only following my orders.” Rossi pats Spencer's shoulder while leaving the room. “The last time I could really trust people was when I moved to Nashville.” Y/n says, all the while Spencer is decoding the picture collage on Y/n’s wall. “Nashville, you said you lived you Houston street? And you were on KZ fm in high school?..” “Yeah..?” When Y/n sees the way Spencer is intensely staring at the collage she also gets up, to stand next to him. “I need to take this thing about.” Spencer says while not looking away. “What?” “I’ll put it back. I think I see images of you. Guys!”

Y/n stands to the side with Derek while Spencer and Emily are putting the pieces together. “Y/n, it looks like someone has been stalking you for years.”

“Yeah, this tells your whole life story. Awards, Billboard charts, Albums.”

“Everything since moving to Nashville.”

“Who gave you this collage?” Derek asked, leaning over the island counter. “Um- he did” Y/N says pointing at a picture on the collage. “Who is he?” “Uh- Parker Dunley, I don’t really know him, he just owns a gallery I go to sometimes.”

Spencer gets off the phone quickly turning to Y/N. “Y/N, do you someone by the name of Veronica Hartley?” “Roni? Yeah, of course I know her. I’ve known her for years. She’s one of my assistants.” Their conversation gets cut off by Y/n’s phone ringing. “What is it?” Spencer asks, seeing the way her eyes widened when she read the caller ID.

“That’s her calling now.”

“Is she calling from her cell phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Y/n, we think Roni’s the stalker.”

“No- No way.”

“Answer the phone. Act completely natural, the longer you keep her on the line the more likely we’ll be able to trace the call.. Trust me.” Spencer walks away to call the team, while Y/n answers Roni’s call.

“Hello?…Roni?...” Spencer turns to Y/N and gives her a signal to keep talking.

“Rons?... You’re tired?......I saw you today?.... I don’t know what you’re talking about.. I remember.. Roni, that was just one weekend…”

“Y/n” Spencer whisper yells, after getting off the phone with Penny, finding out Roni’s calling inside the house.

“How did she get inside?”

“She has keys.”

Spencer starts searching the house Y/n walking behind him. When they get up to a guest bedroom, Y/n feels the barrel of a gun being pressed to her skull, Spencer quickly turns around.

“Put down the gun.” Roni demands. “Roni..” Spencer says while lowering his gun. “Don’t call me ‘Roni” you don’t know me! Come on, Y/n, let’s go. We have to go, baby. Come on.” Y/n looks in Spencer’s eyes begging him to do something. “Roni, don’t hurt her. You don’t need to hurt her.” “You don’t know anything. I would never hurt her. I created her" "No you didn’t.” “Yes, I did you stupid, ungrateful, little bitch.. I can’t believe I ever loved you.” “Roni, she.. She loves me now.” Roni moves her gun from pointing it at Y/n’s head to pointing it at Spencer. “She told me so. When we were in the pool. She kissed me. Now she loves me okay?” “No.” “Tell her we kissed in the pool.” “No!’ Roni yells this time switching from pointing her gun from Spencer to Y/n. Y/n looks at Spencer hopefully to tell her the next move, when he nods his head at her she says, “Yes, we kissed.” Roni then pushes Y/n, and Spencer tackles Roni to the ground, grabbing her gun, and pointing it at her. “Kill me! Please. Kill me! I’ll be so much happier!” But Spencer shakes his head, lowering the gun as he says, “No, we’re going to get you some help.”

Y/n is standing in the station talking to her publicist, while news vans are lined up outside.

“I don’t want any media.” “Come on, Y/n” “No. No media.” “Okay, no media. Let me deal with these guys then.”

After Y/n’s publicist leaves, Spencer walks up to Y/n. “I wish we didn’t meet under these circumstances. More normal maybe.” “Y/n, believe me, no matter how we met, I’m glad we did.” Y/n feels her whole body, warm at that, she turns her head, knowing Spencer can see the blush on her face. They’re interrupted when Derek yells for Spencer. “Hey, Reid. Come on, we got to move.” “Well, um- here, take this.” Y/n passes Spencer a receipt she had written her new number on. “Would you- if it’s okay with you, give me a call.” “Yeah, I would love to.” Rossi comes walking over. “I hate to intrude, kid, but we’re waiting.” “Yeah- yeah a second.” “So- call me, I’ll be waiting.” Y/n turns to walk away, but Spencer puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Y/n turns towards Spencer, he puts his hand on her check, Y/n leaning into his palm, turning her head slightly to press a small kiss into his palm, before walking away.

#spencer reid x singer!reader #spencer reid x famous!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid

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abouttofillhisshoes · 16 days

Text

We started losing light - M.H x Reader // pt.2

A/N: TW for vomit, please take care of yourselves! I wrote most of this in one go, i'm sorry if there are any spelling/wording mistakes. It gets angsty, lots of yelling bla bla. Adams a cunt in this one. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading once again❤️

wc: 7k

part three

The smell of fresh cut grass permeated the air. You were walking down the beaten pavement path, moss covering most of it, making it quite slippery. For the first time in a long time, you were completely sober.

It had been well over two weeks since the kiss, not having addressed it. There was no need to, since it clearly meant nothing to both of you. It was early march, and you had expected the rain to lay off for a bit. The weather forecast that morning laughed in your face, predicting another week of straight rain. Had that made you think, even for a second ‘hey, maybe it’d be a good idea to bring a coat?’ Of course not.

“What do you think of Hann’s new girl?” Mattys voice broke your train of thought. “She's fit, isn't she? Maybe even too fit for the old man,” he lets out a disgusting cough, and you tell him that maybe it's a sign he should quit smoking.

“Don't be a dickhead, Adams plenty attractive,” you answer, nudging him with your elbow. Matty scoffs as a way to say: Hann? Attractive? Our mate, Adam Hann? You nod, not letting Adam be the butt of yet another one of Mattys deprecating jokes.

“Olivia’s nice, even if she was a total cunt to George,” His eyes lit up at your statement, nodding erratically. “Right?? What was even her problem with him? She was fine with the rest of us, even you, given that you're a girl. Something about him must’ve fucked her off or something.” It's true, she was a total sweetheart to you, even asking where your lipgloss was from.

She was a sight for sore eyes, bleach blonde, waist length hair draping over her shoulders. Blue eyes like the ocean, even if you get lost in them. Ross was convinced she was some sort of call girl, until Adam had shown him the text threads from the dating site they had met on.

You offer him a shrug. The night's events played out in your mind. You had all met at a bar near Adam and Ross’ flat. From the start, she was facing away from George, avoiding looking at him like it was going to kill her if she did. George tried to talk to her, even complimented her shoes (the shoes were ugly), but to no avail. She just wouldn't acknowledge him. He eventually gave up, nursing his drink while making conversation with a very confused Ross.

You continued walking arm in arm, ‘Old Yellow Bricks’ by the Arctic Monkeys blaring through your headphones. It was a miracle neither of you had extensive hearing loss.

All was well, until you felt the first rain drops hit your bare shoulders. You turn to Matty to complain, but you see a sly smile already on his face.

“I hate to tell you ‘told you so’ but-,” You didn't let him finish.

“Please don't do this to me, I'm having a moment of weakness!” you shiver dramatically. The wind wasn't helping your little predicament. You had a tank top on, not very ideal for the harsh British rain that was about to come pouring down.

“Now, be a gentleman and give me your coat.” Matty shakes his head, tugging the coat over himself. You scoff at him.

“You can steal my weed and talk about ‘girls don't roll their own spliffs’ but you wont give me your coat?? Fucking tosser, you are.” You mime his thick northern accent, your fingers forming quotation marks in the air.

“Oh fuck right off! Y’know Hann’s the only one who does that-'' you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the left, “Fine, I said it once. And besides, I'm cold too!”

You pout at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He pretends to think about it, but inevitably shakes his head once again. ‘Fuck you’ you think.

It's not until the rain starts proper pouring down on the two of you that Matty makes you an offer.

“Share the coat? You've officially lost the plot, mate.” You laugh in his face. How would you even fit?? Then again, the coat was insanely big, sized up at least two or three sizes. You could theoretically squeeze into it. Matty and his ‘fashion’ choices.

Deciding to try, Matty takes his right arm out of the coat, letting you into it. It was a tight fit, and it didn't close, but it worked. Your left arm rested on Mattys waist, and his right one rested on yours. He gave your side a light squeeze, laughing at you when you jump.

You felt a familiar warmth at the contact. ‘Stop it’ you thought to yourself. Your attention was quickly pulled to the car driving past. In the pouring rain, a yellow taxi cab had hit a puddle next to the edge of the pavement, dousing you in muddy rainwater.

Matty cursed the car out, letting out a terrifying shriek. Jesus.

He tried to brush as much of the water off as he could, but it was no use.

Watching him struggle made you crack a smile. It was endearing almost, seeing him curse at literal water.

The walk back to Mattys place was rudely interrupted by him booking it down the street halfway home, ripping you out of the confines of the jacket. The rain had let up, so you chased after him. Your boots splashed against the water on the ground, the wind blowing against you. Matty almost tripped on a rogue piece of pavement, making him fall back.

His feeble attempts at getting his keys into the lock before you got to him proved useless. You were fast.

Your head hurts from the running, so you let his bolting away from you slide, as long as he made you a cuppa as an apology. He was mental about his tea, having an entire cupboard dedicated to organizing and storing it.

“You should be on an episode of my strange addiction,” you comment.

Matty made tea like it was his profession, perfectly measuring the water-to-teabag ratio to a T (pun intended). You loved sugar, and you watched him put 3 cubes into yours. He took his with a splash of milk, gross.

The warm liquid soothes the sore throat you knew you’d have tomorrow. Your nose was already clogging up from all the time spent in the rain, trying to get home as soon as possible

“So, am I forgiven?” Matty looks at you from over the top of his red foo fighters mug. Only he would have a red foo fighters mug. You smile and nod at him as he reaches for the remote.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to fucking god Rome, if you fuck this up, I will rip your balls off and have that be my jewelry.” You say through gritted teeth.

You were currently draped across your mate Rome’s sofa. That same Rome who did your crooked aladdin sane tattoo, was now apparently a professional body piercer. But hey, who could turn down a free piercing? Spoiler alert: you probably should have.

The needle tickled your belly button, and you could feel your heart racketing in your chest. And not in a good way. ‘Matty was the good way.’

What the fuck? You pushed the thought away quickly.

You had plenty of piercings in your ears, 5 or so on each side, but this was your first body piercing. I was also your first one done by Rome, tattoo expert and piercer extraordinaire, allegedly.

Matty was sat on the glass coffee table across from the leather sofa, eyeing the needle even more intensely than you were.

A cold disinfectant wipe touched your stomach, making you shudder. Rome said it wouldn't hurt much, but you didn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. He had also told you the tattoo on your hip bone wouldn't hurt a lot, and that was a blatant lie. It was a piercing pain in your hip for about 4 hours straight, so not exactly pain free.

“Just breathe, it’ll be over in a second.” you hear Rome's voice, slightly distorted. The needle pierces your skin. It feels hot, and you can feel your hand squeezing Mattys. The jewelry slipping in causes another flash of hot pain to sear through you. Now it's Mattys voice whispering comforting words into your ear. His presence helps, acting as a sort of psychological painkiller.

Examining your new accessory in the mirror, you let out a content sigh. The green gemstone glimmers in the light, complimenting the red and green of your tattoo. The light of the bathroom blinded you, and you make a mental to let Rome know his lightbulb was brighter than the fucking sun.

Matty was waiting for you in the living room, flicking through channels on the telly. He nods when his eyes meet yours, signaling it was time to go.

The two of you had made it a habit to walk everywhere, neither having enough money to pay for bus or train tickets. The walks had become a constant, the feeling of Mattys coat brushing up against your shoulder was routine.

Sharing headphones once again, today's track was AC/DC’s ‘Back In Black’. Matty wasn't a big fan of AC/DC but that didn't matter, he still let you put it on, even though it had been his turn.

That's something you’d noticed. He wasn't as prissy about the music anymore, simply humming in response to your music choice, even if it was the worst pop trash he had ever heard. Something felt off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It didn't matter much at the time, it just meant you had more opportunity to listen to whatever you pleased.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sound was a pub of sorts. Exactly the type of pub you would find someone like Matty in.

Extravagant, loud, and full of life and most importantly, booze. The neon signs all littering the concrete wall gave you a headache.

He had brought everyone here, including Hann’s girlfriend, for a round of drinks.

The queue up until the door had been well stressful, seeing as both you and George were underage. Most pubs let you in without a hitch, but this one was new.

Thankfully, the bouncer didn't even look twice at the both of you, simply waving you through. He did press hand to Adam's chest, and asked him of all people for his I.D. You tried not to giggle as Hann desperately searched his pockets for his wallet. Olivia stood next to him, looking unimpressed.

Matty was already inside, ordering everyone drinks. He might fail his GCSEs, but for some reason, he had everyone's drink order down by heart. Even Olivias. You wonder where he had gotten that information from.

The bass of the music thrummed through your veins, the disco-esque lights flashing all around you. It was full, the poor bartenders overwhelmed with about sixteen people at once shouting their various drink orders at them. You took a sip of your drink, and made your way to the semi-crowded dance floor. Spotting Adam snogging his girl in the corner, you roll your eyes at the sight.

George and Ross were off to the side, doing shots with a bridal party of all people. The maid of honor was throwing herself at Ross, and he attempted to fend her off, going on about ‘the missus waiting for him at home’. That sure didn't stop her.

But you couldn't, for the life of you, find Matty. You hated this about him. He just disappeared and it took ages to find him again, and it didn't help that everyone else was either snogging their girlfriend or getting hammered with an entire wedding. Your eyes scan the crowd, and you finally see him.

Him and a girl.

His hair was up in a half up half down sort of style, blonde strands framing his face perfectly. His eyes were lined with blue liner, complimenting the blue nail polish on his fingers. The fingers on the hands that were touching some random girl's arm. A pretty girl's arm.

She was everything in vogue. Absolutely gorgeous black hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face perfectly. A red dress clung to her body, her legs looking a mile long. She was the beauty standard.

You felt jealousy bubble up inside of you, stopping yourself before you could properly feel it.

‘It's Matty’ you thought to yourself ‘he does this all the time, get your shit together’ A deep breath managed to steady you. It wasn't long before he saw you through the crowd of people, a smile spreading into his face when he did. He said something to the girl. The look on his face seemed apologetic. She nodded in understanding, flashing him a smile as he turned around to make his way to you. Did he reject her?

“All this neon is doing my head in,” you gesture at your surroundings, ”can we go outside for a bit?” Matty agrees, commenting on the volume of the music. For some reason, you can't find Adam, and you assume he's off shagging his girlfriend in a bathroom stall somewhere.

The warm air hits you as you step out the back entrance, Matty following close behind. You wedge your wallet in between the door to keep it from locking you out. A lesson learned the hard way. The brick of the wall dug into your back, you wince at the roughness of it.

You pulled out your cigarettes, feeling around for your lighter. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, but Matty was already way ahead of you. He held his lighter up to the cig between your lips. You notice two things. One, his hands are shaking, and two, it's the lighter. That same lighter he had on his the day you met.

Why were his hands shaking? Why did he still have it? Was it even the same one? You check the side of it and sure enough, it had his initials scrawled on it in white ink. You're snapped out of your thoughts when the nicotine hits your system. It calms down your thinking, and you forget about it. It feels like you're forgetting a lot these days.

“Why did you reject her? She was really pretty.” you ask, your eyes not meeting his, instead focusing on the glowing billboard in the distance. Matty frowned at you.

“Yeah, she was, but you know id rather not fuck someone i dont know.” he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “You know I'm not really like that.”

Matty was a performer, he performed in every aspect in his life. So did you, in a way. With fake displays of confidence and that fucking kiss, you put on a sort of show. So did Matty, honing a distinct air of nonchalance, acting unbothered by everything and everyone.

Those performances were let down when you were around each other. You got to see a side of Matty no one else really saw, not even George, who he had known since he was about 14. He was vulnerable with you, soft even. In turn, he saw your insecurities. Insecurities that ran deep through your bones. Insecurities that were the very essence of your being.

You smoke the rest of your cigarette in silence, leaning against the wall. A gust of wind made you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin.

The heel of your boot stubs out the butt of your cigarette, and you turn to go back inside. Mattys hand on your arm stopped you, and you felt your breath hitch at the contact.

“Ross just messaged me,” he read the text out loud, the faint blue light illuminating his face. “Adams gone back home to shag Olivia. He said to fuck off until at least 2, and to leave him alone.”

You stare at him for a second before you answer, fuming at Adam for leaving you stranded like that. “Where are we meant to go then? Fucking tosser, leaving us like that” Matty just shrugs, and starts walking around the building to the main entrance. You follow him.

Ross and George are at the front, and George has a tiara on his head. Matty immediately questions his choice of headwear, but he just brushes him off, saying it was a gift from the bride. Her name was Ashley, apparently. Not that it mattered, how the fuck were you gonna get home?

All your questions were answered when George spoke: “We could go to mine? I have a pretty big shed in my garden,” Matty makes a face at the thought of sleeping in someone's garden shed, but then again, it was better than being homeless for the next eight or so hours.

“We could all crash there, it even has a mattress in it.”

The four of you decide to walk the 45 minutes to Georges house, seeing as there werent any busses going in that direction at 11 o’clock at fucking night. Fuck Adam.

George fumbled with the key to the shed for a solid minute before finally getting it open, revealing the interior.

It was littered with boxes stacked on top of various pieces of furniture. You spot an old mattress tucked up against the wall. It looks dirty, and you wonder if sleeping on the floor might prove more hygienic than laying your face on that.

You get to work, moving boxes out of the way to reveal a red leather couch, dusty and grimy from years of storage, and a giant green sofa chair. You lugged your bag onto the chair, calling dibs. Ross groaned, sitting down on the mattress on the floor. It at least came with a blanket (if you could call a duvet without a sheet a blanket).

Matty had gone with the sofa, and was now brushing as much dust off as he could, trying to get it somewhat clean. Neither one of you had any clothes to sleep in, so you opted for just sleeping in your current clothes. You hadn’t thought to bring makeup wipes, so you knew you’d be dealing with a gnarly breakout in the morning. That didn't matter to you at this point, you just wanted to pass out on the chair. You put your hair up in a ponytail, sighing as you look for a surface to put your cellphone on. Matty was stood behind you, shuffling around the sofa, trying to find a place for his giant coat.

Everyone was getting ready to conk out, and George had already gone back to his house. He, of course, had a warm and comfortable bed waiting for him inside a heated house.

You watched Matty as he took his shirt off, your eyes lingering for a beat longer than what was considered ‘platonic’. He had a tattoo that mirrored yours on his left hip bone. “We are kings” it read. You’d laughed at him when he showed it to you, deeming it awfully cheesy, a rose being the backdrop for the words. But nevertheless, he ignored your words. As long as he liked it, you told him.

He had various other small, mostly meaningless tattoos littering his skin. He had let Rome practice a lot on his legs, which proved to be a mistake, given those god-awful tattoos were now going to be stuck on his body forever. It didn't seem to bother him though. He was seemingly happy just helping a friend, even if he did now have a hideous cross tattoo on his left calf.

You had only one tattoo, the Aladdin Sane one, but you were planning on getting more the moment you could afford to not have to go to Rome for it.

‘never again’ you thought.

Matty had settled onto the sofa, and was now reading one of the many books that were stacked in piles in the corners of the shed. He had picked up Joan Didions ‘Slouching toward Bethlehem", scanning the pages intently.

You don't know at what point you fell asleep, but you were woken up by a loud crashing noise. You shoot up, greeted by a stabbing pain in your upper back and shoulder. Fuckkkkk.

The chair had made you fall asleep in a god-awful position, your neck hanging off the edge of it. The source of the noise was, of course, Matty knocking over the once source of light: A metal lamp that was conveniently placed right in the middle of the tiny shed.

He cursed at the lamp, and then at George for deciding to put it there. George couldn’t hear him, since he was comfortably sleeping in his own bed inside of the house. Fuck. him.

Matty looks at you, apologizing for waking you up. Ross was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he’d already left.

Your hand reaches for your back, trying to soothe the pain by rubbing it. It didn't help, and you lay back in defeat.

“What's got you so prissy this morning?” Matty asks, cocking an eyebrow. You shoot him a glare, not in the mood for his comments.

“It’s all Adam's fault! If he hadnt acted like a fucking dickhead and left us stranded just to shag Olivia, I would’ve fallen asleep in my own bed, and not some dusty chair in a shed! A fucking shed!”You were frustrated to say the least, your hands moving erratically around you, showcasing said frustration. “My back is killing me, I cant move, and Ross has fucked off god knows where.” You feel tears well up in your eyes, too embarrassed to look at Matty.

You were tired and in pain. All because Hann couldn't keep his dick in his pants. You mentally flip him off.

“I could give you a massage, if you want,” Matty offered, seeing how the whole night had affected you. “And you're right, Hann’s a total cunt for doing that.” He added, making you break out into a smile at his words. He had that effect on you. You calmed down

He motioned for you to sit down on the floor in front of the leather sofa, and you did. You took off your shirt, feeling a sudden pang of insecurity run through you. You had been half naked in front of Matty loads of times, so why was this different?

The sudden pressure of Mattys rough hands on your shoulder blade made you groan, relieving some of the tightness in your back.

“Thanks mate, you're a legend.” Matty chuckles at your words, humming in response. He goes on for about 10 minutes, All is going great, and your back feels better. That is, until Ross comes rushing through the door. He freezes when he sees you in your bra, shielding his eyes and spinning around to face the door.

“Fuckin hell, why are you naked? And why are Mattys hands on you?” Ross borderline shouts, his voice seeming panicked.

“Jesus Ross, stop acting like I'm the first half naked girl you've seen in your life,” you start, Mattys laugh interrupting you. “You can turn around, Matty’s just giving me a massage.”

He does turn around, avoiding looking at you. You roll your eyes. Unbelievable.

He grabs his jacket, and leaves as quickly as he came. Matty taps your shoulder, signaling you to get up. You put your shirt back on, and grab your bag from the pile of boxes. Your back still aches, but the massage did help. You tell him as much.

“It's no thing, all good,” He mutters, closing the door of the shed behind him. You now have to figure out how to get ‘round the side of the house without George’s parents seeing you. How would he explain that? “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, three people slept in the shed last night. Tea?”

Nevertheless, you manage to get out unnoticed, setting off home. The walk was incredibly long, stopping at a wetherspoons along the way to have a piss. It took some bickering with the barista to let you use the bathroom even though you weren't customers. It ended with Matty giving her his number, promising to take her out as a thank you. That same jealousy bubbled up inside of you as he handed her the piece of paper with a wink.

It didn't matter, you decided. It was fluke, you were just tired and angry at Adam for being a massive fucking cunt and leaving you. You swore you’d kill him when you saw him next.

By the time you made it home, it was almost 8:30. Hoping and praying your mother hadn't woken up yet, you slid the window open. Nothing. She was asleep.

Matty helped you up, grabbing you by the sides. His hands lingered for a second too long, squeezing the flesh of your hips. You swore you could see a faint blush spread across his face. No. You were imagining it. He was just red from lifting you. Definitely.

He held out his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug goodbye. You felt like crying. You really didn't want him to leave. The hug lasted what seemed like forever, your hands stroking his back. He somehow sensed this, and held you even tighter.

“I'll pick you up at half ten, alright? Just us.” you liked the sound of that, nodding your head in agreement. “No Adam or Ross to fuck us off, we’ll get hammered and walk around. That sound good?” You nod again, brushing some of his hair out of his face.

This is the first time in a while you'd gotten to properly look at him. You observed his features. Eye bags caressed the skin under his eyes, making him look tired. He was still beautiful, his pale skin glowing in the light of the morning. Brown eyes glazed over and full of sleep pierced yours. You felt like he was looking into your soul. He saw you.

He pulled away, your hand lingering on his arm before returning to your side. He turned around to leave, and every fiber of you wanted to shout after him to stay. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Defeated, you turned around and hopped off the window sill and into your bedroom.

Your bed was calling your name, and you flopped onto it, not bothering to change. You desperately needed a shower, but your body would not move. Sleep took over your body as you settled into the cold sheets of your bed.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in your life, Matty was drunker than you were. Stumbling down the road, cursing at cars driving past for no apparent reason. The half a bottle of vodka already in his system was being washed down by a bottle of red wine, currently sloshing onto his shirt. You weren't completely sober either, but you’re pretty sure you’d never seen Matty this wrecked. Ever.

“I need a piss,” Matty announces, searching your surroundings for the nearest gas station. You weren't quite certain where you were, the darkness of the cloudy night obstructed your view.

You were walking on the side of some highway or other, seeing as there was barely a sliver of pavement to keep you from getting hit by a car. The honking finally made sense.

Matty spots a gas station in the distance, and takes off running down the street in its direction. A drunk Matty was definitely faster than a sober one, you take note, hauling ass after him.

By the time you’d made it inside, Matty was already throwing himself at a traumatized looking gas station attendant, basically climbing over the counter to get to her.

You grab him by the shirt, tugging him backwards. Apologizing profusely, you ask where the bathroom is. The blonde girl points timidly to the sign hanging above a hallway off to the side, labeled ‘Unisex Toilet’. You thank her, before realizing Matty had once again escaped your line of sight and was now yelling at the drink cooler.

“It's absolutely mad, the amount of drinks they offer! That can't be good for the environment!” He slurs his words, making meaningful eye contact with a can of cherry cola.

“Climate change is a real thing you know, don't let the people fool y-” you cut him off, apologizing to the now even more terrified worker, ushering him towards the loo.

“Fuckin hell, what did you do that for?? I was just inquiring on the importance of-” his expression changed drastically “fuckfuckfuck get out my way!” you knew that look. Matty was about to hurl all over you if you didnt move now.

He bolted to the nearest stall, dropping to his knees as the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed made its reappearance in the toilet bowl. Your hands moved to get his hair out of his face. You whisper small ‘oh god’s whilst stroking his hair, knowing throwing vodka up couldn't be pleasant. You weren't sober in the slightest, but you had to pull yourself together to help hi.

Matty had done this for you multiple times, holding your hair whilst talking you through it.

“Jesus Matty, you have got to pace yourself,” you say, your voice having a slightly serious tinge to it. He genuinely worried you.

“Oh fuck off mate, leave me alone.” he spat, the tone of this voice sending a chill down your spine. He had never, in your three years of friendship, spoken to you like that. You gripped his hair tighter, letting out an annoyed sigh, not knowing how to react. He was wasted, but he had been wasted before. Never like this.

“Are you deaf?? I said fuck off!” His words dripped with venom, his voice amplified in the confines of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in shock, letting go of his hair. It falls into his face, obscuring it.

The bathroom stills when he finally stops retching, having emptied the contents of his stomach fully. Time seemed to slow for both you and him, making the room spin.

Suddenly, you hear sobs coming from beneath you. Matty was crying. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkk. What do you do? Comfort him? Leave him alone to cry it out? Definitely not.

You drop down to your knees, trying to get a look at his face. Vomit covered the edges of his mouth, spit dripping down into the toilet. Everything reeked of cheap vodka and cigarettes, but you blocked out the smell.

“Please dont look at me..” you hear, his voice shaking as he brings a hand up to wipe his mouth clean. It gets on his sleeve, but he doesn't seem to care. Your hand finds its way into his hair, massaging his scalp in that way he likes. A whimper leaves his mouth, catching you off guard. Another sob. Tears drip down his face, and he finally turns around to face you.

“Christ Matty, what's gone wrong with you?” you ask, your voice breathy, the alcohol making you hazy. He just shakes his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. His eyes are glued to the floor, too scared to look at you.

“Dont know whats wrong with me,” he starts, finally looking up. He doesn't look you in the eye, instead looking behind you. Past you. “Maybe I had too much to drink, I dunno.” You crack a smile. No shit he had too much to drink.

“Lay off the vodka for a bit, it makes you mad. You almost jumped the poor girl behind the counter.” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood a bit, still too drunk to be put down by Mattys crisis.

“I don't want to get up, I feel so heavy” he slurs, obviously still drunk. “Nah, you know we need to leave, or else they’ll kick us out for trespassing or something. We’ve been in here ‘bout an hour already.” You look at an imaginary watch on your wrist, making him giggle.

His eyes are half closed as he watches you get up from your spot next to him. You use the stall walls for balance, not wanting to come crashing down. Extending a hand to Matty, he pulls himself up with you. The both of you stumble outside of the stall, and you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Jesus, both of you look like you've been through hell.

Your makeup smeared down your face, your lipgloss long gone. Mattys hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction imaginable. There was vomit on his shirt and chin, trailing down his neck. You look at his reflection in disgust, and tell him as much.

He takes his coat off, along with his shirt. He runs his face under cold water, washing any vomit off of it. He stared at himself, his eyes empty. Your voice made him look at you.

“Let's not overdo it like this again, it proper sucked” you knew you sounded like you were joking, but you couldn't be more serious. “I'm still a bit drunk, and I think you are too. Food?”

He nods at you, and takes your bag out of your hands, stuffing his tshirt into it. Putting his coat back on, you can see the skin of his chest peek out from underneath it. You look away, taking the bag back from him. As you emerge out of the loo, you nod in the direction of the girl behind the counter. Matty announces he's run out of cigarettes, and goes to buy more. The girl hands him a pack of parliaments, and he slides a tenner over to her, telling her to keep the change.

The air outside is cool, colder than inside the bathroom. The smell of petrol fills your nostrils and you breathe. “Maccies?” He asks, pointing to the sign across the road. You smile, crossing the road together, desperately needing some grease in your system.

He places both your orders for you, taking the number and sitting down. Your food arrives, looking as good as mcdonalds at 1 in the morning can look. You take a bite out of your food, and reach for your shared fries. Mattys hand is already there, and your fingers brush against each other

You pull your hand back and it feels as if you've been shocked by something. Matty seems as unbothered as ever, munching away at his chicken burger (yes, chicken). You stare at him until he looks up at you, your eyes quickly redirecting to your own food. Everything feels weird. Breathing feels hard as your heart pounds in your chest

You're just drunk, stop it.

“What do you wanna do after?” He says, licking the grease off of his fingers. You can still see his chest, the pale skin a stark contrast to the dark, fluffy material of his coat. His hair was down, covering a large chunk of his face, he desperately needed to cut it. You tell him.

“Cut it for me then, as a payment for me coloring yours,” You agree, smiling at the thought.

“I can't exactly go home, my house is too far away and i can't be arsed to pay for a taxi at this hour.” he adds to his previous statement, turning his pockets inside out, showing his lack of funds. Typical Matty, running out of money at the worst possible moment. You had used the last of your cash to pay for your food, leaving about 6 quid in your wallet.

“What about Carolines? That's not far from here.” you suggest, finishing off the last of the fries.

Matty sipped on his cola, calculating the distance, before agreeing and getting up to leave. You take your bag, following closely behind him. Hooking his arm in with yours, you walk along the highway together, flipping off the cars that honked at you. The clouds had cleared, showing the myriad of stars glowing in the sky. You stopped for a second, admiring their beauty before Matty pulled you along. He was never one for admiring nature, always a city boy at heart.

The walk was calm, with Matty walking at your pace, instead of you at his. He hummed the melody to some radiohead. This was the first walk together you had taken in silence. Your boots clicked against the pavement, the sound almost deafening.

Arriving at Carolines, the steps up to the terrace seemed longer than ever. The sofa was still there, though it had been moved, presumably by Ross, closer to the railing. The stars were clear as ever, illuminating Mattys face in a soft blue light. The city below was quiet, most of the lights in the buildings having been turned off.

You steal a glance at Mattys wristwatch. 2:53am. Was it already that late?

You catch him staring at you, his eyes lingering. You felt naked, exposed, despite being more covered up than he was. Mattys gaze didn't let up, so you decided to stare back. Your eyes lock, and you immediately sober up.

“D’you have any weed on you? I fancy a smoke,” he asked, his eyes flicking between yours and your bag. You did, in fact, have a pre rolled spliff in your makeup bag. By the time you’d taken it out, Matty had already taken his lighter out of his jeans pocket. That fucking lighter.

He hands it to you, and you cock your head at him.

“So you don't go begging for my coat again,” he grins, pressing the plastic into your hand. The way he articulated the word begging made you feel warm, flush almost. A blush spread on your cheeks, you could feel it. Matty either didn't notice, or just plain ignored it. Both options made you nervous.

You light the spliff, rotating it to get an even burn. Passing it to Matty, you let him take the first hit. He does, his expression immediately changing to a more relaxed one. ‘He looks fucked out’ you think, observing the way his eyes drooped half closed. His hair fell into his face as he laid down onto your lap, letting his head rest on your thighs.

You take a drag, ashing onto the floor. The ash dwindles on the floor for a second, before going out completely. The two of you take in the glow of the city, slightly obscured by the dark gray railing, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Do you ever feel lost?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Matty moves in your lap, turning so that he could look at you from below. His expression is unreadable. Neutral. It scares you.

“Sometimes, yeah..” his voice is soft, raspy from the smoke. He passes the spliff back to you before speaking further. “But isn't that part of it? The human experience? Feeling lost, I mean.” you can see him picking at his nails, the skin beginning to bleed. His neutral expression is replaced by something else. Worry? Anxiety?

Matty was prone to panic attacks. They didn’t happen often, but they happened. One particular time was in a club downtown. It was Saturday night, and the place was packed to the brim. His hand grabbed yours and the look in his eyes was nothing short of terrified. His breathing was irregular, and you knew he needed to get out, now.

That was one of the first times it happened, but it wasn't the last. You quickly learned how to deal with them. He, like you, never, ever wanted to talk about it immediately after the fact. You knew they happened when he felt trapped. In crowded spaces, in high stress situations. His hand would reach for yours as if it were the anchor to reality.

His hand reached for yours, the coldness of his making you jump slightly. Your heart was beating so fast I couldn't see straight. His eyes met yours, searching for something. Something.

What was that something? What did he want? He squeezed your fingers, playing with the rings on your index and ring. Twisting and turning and taking them off and putting them back on. The feeling made you dizzy.

You stayed like that, his head in your lap until the first signs of dawn hit your skin. The orange glow of the sun makes his eyes appear brighter, his hair looks lighter than it actually was. The blonde highlights were a good idea. This made him appear his age. You were just two kids

Kids on a terrace, watching the sun rise slowly over the city.

Not daring to move, you let yourself relax on the couch. You're tired, you haven't slept all night and you could feel the hangover start to spread its way through your body. You weren't completely present.

You convince yourself the faint “I love you,” you heard just before you drifted off the sleep was a trick of your mind.

What else could it be?

#oh god #i really like this one actually #drunk matty is my fav to write #well except the part where he yells at girlie #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy x you #matty the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction

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apparentlytheproblem · 7 months

Note

if you do write for pjo, i was hoping you could do one with percy jackson where the reader is just a depressed or has a very gloomy mentality and is just taking a shit on the gods for robbing her from everything she could pottentially have and its just a scene where percy is slowly heeling her. could it be from angst and transition to fluff. also loved the prompts, can't wait to start requesting em.

𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜

fandom- Percy Jackson and the Olympians

pairing(s)- percy jackson

a/n: hullo, I'm tryna start writting agin cause i've been having a block and i have currently finished my midterms and im ready to cry after recieving my results on monday, so its all rushed and i barely have time to post but this has me screaming and crying all at once, also first ever pjo wriiting, yay requests are forever open, luv, teddy

requested- yes

currently playing- forever favourite

warnings- okay so its results season and that is why i this is written with such despair. idk what's wrong with but i'm tryna get back on my flow and i keep getting pushed down. its pretty obvious how sad she is, and its kinda depressing lol and deffo not reflecting on the shit going through my head lamoo

there was a pit in your stomach, a dread. they always say that the gray clouds that reign the sky have always symbolized burden, maybe despair even but it felt an extent of emotions of the ones who have given up every inch of themselves, furious, enraged and vengeful.

maybe that’s what you should have felt.

did i deserve to feel angry? am i a victim or someone who’s expected too much from the world when having nothing to her name?

pity should have filled you, watching the hopeless pray. its as if believing the gods of all people would have pity for anyone.

but were you not just the same?

every day you wake up to have hope crushed within you just for it to painfully reassemble itself unconsciously within you. a weed that never would stop corrupting every fibre of you.

your body pressed against a pole, attempting to take a figure of someone unbothered, but her heel bouncing up and down gave her away.

a strong arm grabbed her hand causing a twirl. panick begans to bleach your thoughts until his face came into view.

his absolutley stunning and boyish face with the prettiest dimples. his smile extended warmth and hope. he was brainwash, he melted away all the rational thoughts. the one that calculated, how long, what next, till when.

“hi gorgeous” an arm went around your shoulder to pull the heavy book bag of of yours to his.

“hullo handsome” you replied, a smile contagiously spreading, your arm wrapping around his bicep.

it'll be okay

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #riordanverse #percy jackson series #harry potter preferences #pjo series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson fic #pjo x reader #pjo x oc #pjo x you

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tarochimochi · 3 months

Text

Winner Gijinka redesign! I like to think they swap between the skirt and pants depending on the challenge.

Uh I don’t know why I thought their old design was ever okay to bestow on human eyes!

Cut below the entire design process (it’s gonna be long)

So I knew immediately after finishing my Loser design I wanted Winner to be the opposite of Loser. Which ment no warm colors, no vest sleeveless thing, no sunglasses, esc. I wanted them to be 80s inspired to match my Loser’s 70s Inspiration! I wanted them to parallel Loser by being so different but the same at the same time. So I wanted to do alot.

I think very clearly with the first ever winner draft (on the right) I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING LOL. I really don’t like it now looking back and it really doesn’t feel like Winner to me. I think just to show how old this is, this was before I even made established age headcanons so I also had no idea how older I wanted Winner to be.

That age headcanon list will probably be shown at another time, I think I showed it once on instagram after somebody asked.

The one on the left I did right after I finished my Loser design and oh my god I also really hate it looking back. I had this idea that Winner’s hair could be the opposite of Loser’s hair where instead of being from like brown to blond and lighter blond it would be the opposite and oh it looked horrible to me.��

I think also at this point Winner was still just black and not biracial

Now here are what I would call my “Stuck in design hell”. Characters I struggle with immensely when creating a design I think fits/I personally also like for them. It doesn’t mean I have no ideas, some of them I know exactly what I want to do with them but can’t figure out how to emulate it. I ended up abandoning Winner for awhile because they were giving me so many problems because I set so many restrictions for myself which weren’t exactly working.

So then we got this.. I tried to force myself to finalize their design on the spot… bad idea.. worse idea I could ever fathom. I don’t like any of these designs and plus the way I draw now has changed since I made these designs. I had an idea that Winner’s arm could also be translated as one of those super cool arm grabber toys from the 80s which I don’t know, maybe I’ll bring back?? Depends on how I feel about it after focusing on writing more Winner central stories and exploring Winner more as a character and talking to people who really like Winner.

I should also note the inspo for Winner in the fluffy coat and overalls came from the fact that when I was in the movie theater, I saw a kid wearing black overalls and periwinkle jacket and went “HOLY SHIT WINNER TPOT.”

Somewhat unrelated but in this design Winner also became Biracial because @/exitstudent was like “Oh Winner feels afro-Latino to me” so I changed my headcanon almost immediately. This is why I probably shouldn’t have put my race hc chart out so early because my opinions get swayed so easily PLUS I changed a few things around. (Nothing to major, Snowball and Spongey are Wasian now, Donut is Dutch, put Bomby back in Blasian, Gaty is Finnish)

I also had the idea that instead of Winner having highlights (because I highly doubt Winner would go out of their way to highlight their hair) their greying really early on due to stress and poor genetics probably. Another cool parallel to Loser about how Loser’s hair is something he essentially paid for Winner in a way earned theirs. Loser also bleaching pretty much all their hair would also be a cool symbolism for how he’s not the truest to himself while Winner’s still having almost all their natural hair color is symbolism for them being way more true to themself. But that’s for another day to explore.

I tried to interpret Winner’s shape as being kind of like fuzzy fleece on their jacket and I tried to make this work so bad but I really shouldn’t have. I was just all over the place with the colors too.

After design a bunch of the other characters and finding and discovering new ways i like drawing i quickly figured out why I was hating Winner so badly.

It was everything 😭

So after actually after researching 80s fashion instead of half assing it to make it obvious. I drew up these two concepts.

My first realization was “Wow that fleece is ugly as shit.” So I realized I had to stop trying making the fleece work, kudos to anyone who can. But away from the negatives, I really did love the big black Jacket and the legwarmers (I am a sucker for leg warmers so once I put them in them, it was over for me) Something about the headband also struck me because previously I out a strict “no head accessories rule” but honestly? It really just had to be not sunglasses so the headband stayed.

With some color rework and some help from my qpp (Shout out to her, she doesn’t use social media.) We were finally able to get the current design shown!

I guess if I learned anything from this, people should make gijinkas also based off people they know and see in day to day life. Some of my favorite gijinkas are based off people I know. Like Match being an Afro-Chilean Jew is because my friend who actually introduced me to BFDI was a huge match fan, and an Afro-Chilean Jew so I was inspired to make Match look almost identical to them. With Winner I pulled inspiration from alot of popular Black celebrities in the 80s and Chile again because of said friend 80s.

Thanks for reading this whole kuffuffle here’s some bonus doodles!

Yes Winner is going to crush Loser and Clock, stop them.

The last winclock one may or may not be a reference to something.

Now who’s next? Honestly just whoever people want a ref of next, I think I’m a little burnt out from doing now 59 characters and drafting more currently I think I need a break. Although I’m definitely gonna redesign Clock’s outfit, I’m really starting to dislike it. Until next time bye bye!!

#bfb #bfdi #tpot #battle for dream island #battle for bfdi #battle for bfb #the power of two #my art #tpot winner #winner tpot #bfdi winner #winner bfdi #neps.pawprints #bfdi gijinka #gijinka #humanization

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markdelonge · 2 years

Text

“ i just need you ”

(not my gif, creds to the owner !!)

...

request?: yes

pairing: 2000s eminem x female!reader

...

It felt as if your heart was gonna explode as you sat in a director chair with your robe closed tight and leg bouncing up and down at a rapid pace due to your anxiety.

You had no idea what you were thinking when you said yes to be in Eminem's new music video, you weren't even a fan of him. Being half naked and in bed with him wasn't exactly the first thing that came to your head when you were told he wanted you to be in the music video but there you were, in the most revealing lingerie (maybe a little too revealing for your liking).

You were snapped out of your thoughts as you saw a bare chest stop directly in front of where you were sitting. Your eyes trailed up to see the face of the bleach-blonde you had been working with.

"Hey, Pretty" He said, his voice smooth which caused you to shift a little in your seat before you cleared your voice.

"Hi, Slim" You replied, silently dying inside due to the voice crack that came out.

"I was 'bout to go get a drink" He started while pointing behind him with his thumb.

"If you wanna come with me" He finished.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you heard his voice that sounded at least two octaves lower than you'd heard on the radio. It was hot.

"Um" You started, mind completely blank as you fought to decide.

"Yeah, sure, I-I'll come with you" You managed to get out, smiling up at him, hoping he didn't catch the stutter.

"Good." He smirked

His hand reached out for you to take, which you did. The second your hand touched his, you felt as if your stomach was weak. He was messing with your brain and you didn't know how he was doing it.

He led you to a more secluded area where a bunch of drinks and snacks were and let go of your hand as he walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out two Corona beers. You stood in the exact place where he had left you as you played with the string on your robe, not sure if you should take a seat or just stand there, but before you could make a decision, Marshall with the beers, handing one to you.

"Oh- I- I don't drink" You said more quietly than you meant

"No?" He asked, sounded a little surprised.

It wasn't really a lie, you weren't a big fan of alcohol, you only drank on special occasions and you were 80% sure that if you were to have any alcohol in your system, you would throw it up due to how nervous you were.

"No" You started as you chewed on your lip, trying to figure out how to clear the tension.

Marshall turned back around, putting the second beer back into the fridge, before turning back

"Is there anything you want?" He asked

'you.' you thought to yourself before shaking the dirty thought out of your head.

"Um, water would be good" You smiled. Your hands were still playing with the string on your robe, making it more than obvious that you were nervous.

He walked back over to you and handed you the water. You whispered a quick 'thank you' before opening the water and taking a sip, the coldness of it calming you down just a little.

Marshall watched your every move as he took note that you were shy. He knew there was another side to you, he just didn't know how to bring it out.

"You did good out there, y'know." He stated while taking a drink of his beer.

"Did I?" You asked, questioning yourself why your voice was higher than it usually was.

"Yeah" He said as he made eye contact with you.

You immediately looked down, fiddling with your thumbs, feeling intimidated by him.

He wrapped a finger under your chin and with a gentle force, he pushed it up so you were looking at him again.

Your faces were inches apart, you could clearly smell the beer on his breath and it was intoxicating. His hand dropped from your chin to your waist and lazily laid there.

His eyes flickered down to your robe before back to your eyes. He licked his lips before talking

"Why'd you cover up?" He asked, his voice sounding more soft and higher than it was a few seconds ago.

"I'm not comfortable with everyone looking at my body" You replied, praying that he couldn't hear how hard your heart was beating

"I think you have a beautiful body" He said with a slight smirk, the hand he had on your waist hand tightened only a little, giving you a quick squeeze.

You felt a heat between your legs and in your cheeks.

"T-Thank you" You whispered, your knees felt weak. You felt as if you could just pass out from how hot he was.

It wasn't long until silence fell upon you two. You held eye contact until you noticed he was leaning in, trying to kiss you. You felt your heart skip a beat as you take a step back, your hand slightly pushing his chest

"I think they're looking for us" You started, you didn't know who "they" was, you were just trying to get yourself out of the situation you were in.

"I think we're good" He smirked, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips

'Fuck' You thought

You cleared your throat

"Well, I have to go get touched up before this next shoot" You lied terribly. Marshall could tell it was a lie before you could finish the sentence.

"Aight" He sighed, kinda sounding disappointed.

His hands dropped from your hips as he quickly drank the rest of his beer while walking to the exit of the room.

"See you out there, Pretty" He said without looking back.

You stayed in the exact same spot for a couple more seconds, trying to make sense of what had just happened before finally leaving the room, on the look for your manager.

Throughout the rest of the day, you tried your best to avoid Marshall, which wasn't easy with the fact that you were starring in his music video. There had been times where you would be talking to someone and from the corner of your eye, you'd catch him starring at you. The attention was enough to make your whole body weak, it was insane.

"Playback!" You heard the director say

Marshall was in front of you, He wasnt paying attention to you, he had his back to you as he chatted with one of his friends, you had guessed.

You had taken off your robe specifically for the shoot and was completely exposed to at least 70 people.

Marshall had turned back to you, his eyes had dropped down your body to look at what you were wearing before his eyes led up to you. You watched a smirk play on his face before he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"You're beautiful"

Your breathing stopped for a few seconds when you felt his hands placed on your now bare hips.

"Action" The director said soon before you heard Marshall's unreleased song play through the speakers.

"I know you want me, baby, I think I want you too"

Marshall guided you back until you were pressed up against the wall behind you. His grip tightened as he had you pinned. You played along and slid your hand under his white T-Shirt only a little. You chewed on your lip as he smirked down at you, you could feel his breath on your face. His hands started moving slowly up your sides as the song continued.

"I'm here to save you, girl, come be in Shady's world"

You felt your anxiety pick up as he leaned in once again, this time aiming for your neck, as if he was going to kiss you there. Your gasp didn't go unnoticed in his ear as his hand slid back down your side, stopping back at your hips. You closed your eyes and put your hands on his shoulders, preparing yourself for whatever was next but before anything could happen, the music stopped.

"Cut" The director said.

"Slim, Y/N, you two did amazing, that's a wrap" He announced and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized it was all over.

Marshall had lifted his head up from your neck and his right hand off your hip. His left kept its place on your left hip and gave it a light squeeze.

Your intention was to go get your robe and head back to your trailer but Marshall's was different as he led you over to the director and they started a conversation.

You stayed next to him for as long as you could, standing there awkwardly and smiling every time the director would look at you. After at least five minutes of their non-stop conversation, you tried to pull away from Marshall's grip causing his grip on you to tighten.

He turned to look at you, clear that you had his attention.

"Can I go now?" You spoke softly, embarrassed that you had interrupted his conversation.

His eyebrows furrowed

"Go where?"

"Back to my trailer"

"Why?"

"I'm ready to go home"

As much as he wanted to tell you "No" and make you stay with him, he knew he couldn't take control of you like that so instead he leaned in and kissed your cheek.

"Aight, baby, bye" He said in that charming voice he usually used around other girls.

His hand dropped from your side as you whispered 'bye' back and you turned away and left the building as fast as you could.

You stayed in your trailer for a good thirty minutes after that. Just trying to get your head together and calm yourself down. Three knocks on the door had taken you out your thoughts completely as you made your way to the door.

You opened it to see the blonde once again.

"Marsh-" Before you could finish, he let himself in.

"Can we talk?" He said, a little snappy.

"Uh .. yeah?" You said which sounded more like a question due to your confusion.

"What the fuck is up with us right now? I mean, one second you're all over me and the next you're making up shit so you can get away from me? What the fuck, Y/N?"

You were too shocked to answer.

"Marshall, I-"

"What, do you think I'm ugly or something? Am I not interesting enough for you?" He asked, moving closer.

"NO, No, don't think that" You started, now feeling bad that he was thinking negative.

"I don't not like you or think you're ugly. I just don't know what to do, I guess. I thought you just thought of me as a girl you had in your video."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He asked, this time his hands grabbed my waist and pushed you against the trailer's wall, almost exactly like he did for the music video, only more irritated.

"You don't know how long I've liked you or how long I've wanted you" He started, he squeezed you before his eyes looked down at your lips then looking back in your eyes.

"I need you" He said more soft than the other things.

Before you could respond, his lips had crashed into yours as he squeezed your hips once again.

It felt like fireworks went off inside the trailer as you kissed him back, Your hands going to his shoulders before he pulled back from the kiss, looking down at you, breathing heavily.

"I want you to be mine." He said with his head leaned against yours, his hands moving up and down your sides.

"I want to be yours" You whispered back, a hand going to the back of his buzzcut head, pushing it down so you could get another kiss.

After the two of you shared your second kiss. He pulled away again to take off his T-Shirt before he noticed that you were wearing something different than what you had on only 30 minutes ago.

He faked a pout and looked at you.

"You changed."

"I told you I didn't like being dressed like that"

"But you looked so sexy" He whined before leaning in for one last kiss.

#eminem #eminem x reader #eminem imagines #90s #slim shady #slay #finally done #took forever #im sorry it took as long as it did

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j-u-u-z-o · 1 year

Note

helloooo, I see that the request are open and I finally decided to leave one. can be of kenpachi zaraki x fem s/o, in how kenpachi fell in love with s/o. maybe where the s/o is a complete different person: petite, shy, is a medic.

it can be headcanons or scenario, as it is easier for you. thank you very much if you accept and do it, have a nice day 🤍

Heyy anon c:

Aww this is such a cute idea! There is a similar fic (kenpachi x medic reader; I read it several times) that it inspired me to write this scenario -mixed-headcanon. Also, I wrote this while I was at work lol. Enjoy ❤️😚

So I’ll link it here:

Warning: grammar, fluff, more fluff, Kenny the staller.

——————————————————————————

You’re one the most hardworking, caring and kind person in squad 4. Kenny’s men gush over how cute you are when you focus on your work -like your healing abilities

Sometimes they would cat-call you to a point where Kenny would come inside the patient room and bark at them for being too loud and annoying because he right next door lol.

You yelped at his sudden demeanor after he threatened to spar with them if they don’t leave you alone. Yes. That was when you turned and looked up at the big tall man. Speechless at what he said. He looked at you too - with a blank face and walked out the room.

You didn’t know Kenny would defend you from his rowdy men in the room. You should have thanked him for quieting his “hens” but you’re too shy to tell him. The men inside the room were sitting real tight on the bed after what their captain said. Lips zipped shut as you finished healing them.

You knocked on the door and let Kenny know that you’re coming in. He grunted in response and you opened the door. You placed your files, and medical kits on the table.

He watched you from where he sat on the chair. It very quiet in the room. It’s awkward. You haven’t even looked at him since you walked in the room; only focused on what’s in front of you to distract you. His deep exhales fills the room which makes you wonder if you’re trapped inside the room with a lion. But you took a deep breath and walked to the seemingly scary shinigami.

He’s sitting in the stool and his big figure doesn’t make him any more smaller as you’re now standing in front of him. You brought up your stethoscope to his chest and listened to his “pulse” (if shinigami’s have any lol). He looked down at you and at your hand moving it across his chest.

You finished all the proper check-ups before you started to get the gauze wrap to work it around his waist.

“I don’t need that stuff. I’m used to it.”

“…” you almost paused as you walked to him again with the bandage wrap. “The wound is deep, Kenpachi. I…must heal if first.” You said. He grunted in response. It almost sounded like a growl but he submits. You started your healing kido.

The gash on the side of his waist is deep but not too bad, you think. Too focused on your healing, kenpachi js mesmerized by the way you look. You felt his eyes on you. It felt like daggers. But you quickly looked up and saw eyes looking at you,softly. And you quickly looked down.

“Sorry. If I scared you earlier.”

Your eyes widened as you were still healing him. “You…you didn’t scare me. You were just…telling them to stop.” You said still focused on your kido. “Thank you,Kenpachi.” You looked up at the man who acknowledged your gratitude.

A few days past.

Kenpachi would randomly walk in the hospital demanding you to heal him. Sounds rude, I know. Some medics thought it was weird because they can do it. But he’d actually growl at them and threaten to tear them apart if they don’t direct him to you.

Hanataro bravely directed him to an empty room and told him to sit down. Minutes passed you opened the door. It’s Kenpachi. Lately he’s been doing this for a while but you only smiled.

“What..did you do this time, kenpachi?” You softly.

“Hah? What do you mean? I’m hurt..” His face quirked, hiding his intention.

He’s hurt. I thought he was already used to it. You think. “Sure.” You smiled. “Where does it hurt”? You asked.

He lifted up his wrist and showed a bump on it. Like a baby. Without a doubt, you soft hands held his wrist and felt the bumb. A green aura Illuminated your faces and watched the soreness go away.

He never felt such small and soft hands touch opposite of his own. “Oi.”

“Hm?” You looked up and let go of his wrist.

“Thank you.” He looked at you, softly.

“You’re welcome…ask for me whenever you’re injured again” you said softly and giggled.

He grunts in approval and smirked. He watched you when you turned around to pick up your medical kits and files, and left the room. Only remembering the good things you did for him.

“I need to spar with them again.” He mumbled.

#yeah I know but I tried #😭💕#kenpachi x reader #zaraki kenpachi x reader #kenpachi x you #kenpachi zaraki #kenpachi zaraki x reader #bleach imagines #bleach x reader #bleach headcanons #bleach #bleach x y/n

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eightsevenths · 9 months

Text

eddie loves the sun.

pairing, steve harrington x eddie munson

length, 3.7k

warnings, first kiss, mutual idiot pining, jealousy, happy ending

read now (under the cut) or on ao3

Eddie wasn’t sure he was in love with Steve. I mean, yeah, he had had the question rolling around in his padded cell of a brain for a couple of months, but nothing was set in stone.

It’s just that like, see, Steve? He’s everything. Like not just Eddie’s everything, although he is, but it’s just like not that big of a deal because it’s become a fact; his life revolves around Steve. And he hadn’t considered that ever being a problem, until now.

Now, or the moment of Eddie’s masochistic nightmares, had Eddie burning holes through the back of some dark-haired anonymous threat who had all of Steve’s attention. Attention which up until earlier tonight, Eddie had sort of bet would be his to roll around in.

Just as everyone was piling into Steve’s dark red beauty, he catches Eddie’s arm. His grip tightens on the leather and Eddie looks at him, Steve’s got a look like spun sugar in his eyes, the multiple clear shots that had slid down a little too easily probably the cause, and he licks his lips- that are... glittery? Is he wearing lipgloss? Eddie doesn’t have time to unpack the gut blow that is that sight-

“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, “maybe it’s time for me to get out there again.”

He’s not proud of the way his face falls.

“Uh,” he clears his throat and looks around, anywhere but Steve’s stupid brown eyes, “You mean like, uh, dating? Or just,” he can’t get the words out like they physically won’t exit his body which is like the exact opposite of his usual problem.

Steve seems to understand the trailing off and nods, even adding a little tilt to his head like a fucking gunshot to Eddie’s chest, “Yeah like it’s been a while and, I-I don’t know maybe it’s the next logical step?” His buttery soft voice phrased everything like a question, forcing false hope down eddies throat, which has led to him trying to flush it out with bleach all night.

Logical step. Logical step. Logical step.

It is the drum beat thudding in his heart, the headache hammering the coffin nails over his heart, the feeling of the bass coming from where Steve is dancing near the speakers with a body that is not his (Note: the guy is wearing LOAFERS in a fucking bar for god sake.), it is the thing that will no doubt keep him up every night until something changes, until he isn’t a coward and doesn’t keep every feeling deeper than content to himself.

Maybe he should say something. To someone at least. He doesn’t like his chances of getting Steve off the dance floor right now.

So, he settles for Steve's un-biological twin.

“Hey Buckley,” he kind of has to shout over the speakers but she turns from Nancy to face him. They’re all sat in a worn leather booth and with Robin’s attention on him, he has also gained Nancy’s. “and, Wheeler, of course,” he winks, “uh- what do you guys think when you hear the term uh, ‘logical step?”

He should’ve expected confused faces meeting that very obviously something topic of conversation.

Nancy settles back into her seat, regarding Eddie with one of her very scrutinising gazes.

“So, what did Steve say? ‘Logical step’? I need the context to give you any advice,”

“I actually wasn’t asking for advice-“ I mean he was never going to be able to make Nancy see that but he did need to clarify he was not looking for advice, he was perfectly fine figuring things out,

“Well, you need it.”

“Clearly.” Buckley finished eloquently. And Nancy is smiling like the winner of an argument Eddie didn’t realise he was a part of.

And shit. Maybe they’re right.

After a minute of Eddie staring off into the distance and hoping some magical mystical force would help him the fuck out, he relents and turns back to them.

“Okayyyy. I want to ask you a question first. Then I’ll explain, deal?”

Robin shakes his hand, Nancy nods like a mob boss and Eddie once again is left thinking she could totally kill him and get away with it. She’s cool. (Read: Nancy is only scary until she is looking at Robin with ooey gooey eyes and she’s like a happy kitten.)

“When regarding me and Steve and our friendship,” Robin cuts him off with a scoff, he levels her with a look before carrying on, “What do you think is the next ‘logical step’?”

Buckley’s looking right through him, probably telepathically communicating with Steve. Eddie looks over at Steve and he’s still where he was, eyes closed hands up dancing like he is completely unaware of anything around him, it simultaneously stresses Eddie out beyond comprehension and also makes him so turned on that he thinks his heart might stop. So much for a nice night out.

Nancy watches his ringed fingers pick at the label on his beer, “I think, from an outsider, you and Steve have always had something.” He makes the mistake of looking up at her, her gaze steady on him when she speaks, “To me, the next logical step would be for something to happen between you: if it hasn’t already.”

His hair hits his face when he shakes his head, “No, no, no, nothing, nothing’s ever happened.” When he laughs it sounds hollow and empty and he needs to swallow down Nancy’s words.

She’s right, right? Like when has Nancy ever been wrong, first of all, and it just confirms what he’s already thinking, what he’s been thinking.

They must read this on his face, so Robin asks, “So what is the context of this conversation? Because it seems to me like you’re agreeing with Nance and you’re still not good?”

So he begins, reminds them of the start of the night and how after they had all finished getting ready for the bar Steve had stopped him outside the car, “And then he said that he thinks it’s the next ‘logical step’ and I've been wracking my fuckin’ brain trying to figure out what the hell that means, for me, I mean like what does that do to us?”

“He said this and just left it?”

He nods.

The brunette grins, the blonde sighs,

“W-What does this mean? Wha- is it good? Is it bad? Wh-“

“Eddie, breathe, dude.”

Good point.

His chest inhales and they wait to talk more until after he exhales and calms down a bit.

“Listen, I don’ know if he wants me to say anything and usually I wouldn’t but sometimes Steve has a habit of getting rid of anything good for himself before it happens and occasionally, I have no choice but to intervene.” Robin takes a sip of her beer before continuing, “Having said that and designating this one of those moments, yeah: he’s totally gone for you. Honestly, I’d bet this is a game to him, probs tryna get your attention.” Then she leans over and sips from Nancy’s drink.

Whilst Eddie’s brain implodes on itself and causes mass destruction, millions dead kinda thing, Robin returns the bottle back to her lips and looks away like the conversation is over, which causes Nancy to start giggling to herself.

“I think what Robin said was totally right and obvious, but to help you out because sometimes you guys need it spelt out for you: make yourself the logical step.”

“Is it that easy?”

“It can be.”

The music in this place was crappy. But Eddie knew that if he said that aloud it would prompt Steve's indignant argument of ‘you’re such a music snob oh my god-‘, which was always paired with him doing an Eddie impression which was as hot as it was adorable. The only reason he was even aware of the music all of a sudden was because he was walking through the dance floor, walking was generous he was kind of pushing and sometimes dodging melting pairs of bodies.

If he focused, he would probably be able to tell his shoes were sticking to the covered-in-Something floor and the actual amount of humans in such a small place, but Eddie found if he could find something worth all of his focus and attention it was actually harder to be distracted. It should’ve been a sign when all of his old hyper fixations weren’t as bright anymore and how his head kept unconsciously turning to the sunbeam sat in the corner.

Sunbeam was now suddenly in his eye line, and he feels like he’s just done a marathon and seen the finish line, like he finally found the destination it had taken three hours to search the woods for, and it was completely worth it.

As much as he would’ve lacerated the guy with a switchblade an hour ago, the brunette Steve is talking to (still) isn’t as much of a threat anymore. Don’t get him wrong he’s still imagining sixteen different ways to puncture a lung that’s quick enough for him to run from, but after his intervention with the girls, he knows that what him and Steve have is something and it is not all in his head anymore, holy-fucking thank you, god.

At this point, the pair are stood facing each other at the bar and Steve has his back to Eddie so he doesn’t see him approaching. His feet carry him closer until he’s finally behind Steve. He knows how jumpy Steve can get, in loud places and his ears are never that great anyway so Eddie lets his arms curve up Steve’s back as he comes into view.

Steve doesn’t even flinch, which shocks Eddie. The younger man can see the question already forming behind Eddie’s eyes, so he leans up towards Eddie’s ear, “Felt your rings.”

His voice is raspy, and Eddie has to focus his eyes because Steve’s voice just does things to him, especially if he’s going to act like this. Fuckin’ tantalising little kitten fuck.

His hands fall to Steve’s waist and he almost freezes when Steve leans into him. He takes a second to breathe and refocus, remembering what he came here for, and yet so painfully aware of how desperately he needs this to go right. Knowing how important it is he plays his cards right.

He knows Steve.

“So, who’s your friend?” Eddie smiles sharply at the guy now assessing this new person interrupting, he bites back a pleased look when the guy looks intimidated. It shouldn’t be this easy for him to get jealous over someone an hour ago he thought he would just be friends with for the rest of his life. Eddie is fucking blind, clearly.

Steve is looking up at him like he wants to fucking devour Eddie, how drunk is he? Eddies eyes look over to the beer, Steve’s second one which he only knows because he’s been watching him like a hawk, and its half full. So not drunk at all. Oh?

He licks his lips and replies, stretching a hand out towards mystery man, “Oh this is Adam, he is uh into, uh- Engineering?” Steve’s head tilts, clearly looking for help at the guy, whose eyes are wide as saucers at this point.

“Economics.”

“Oh, Economics, of course, I'm so sorry!” Steve is a terrible actor. Eddie loves Steve.

The three of them all know the conversation, if there even was any, is over now. Eddie gives them an out, asking if he can speak to Steve privately and, considering if he asked Steve couldn’t probably tell him the guy's name, he comes easy.

Robin keeps her head down as they pass and Nancy shoots Eddie a wink as he leads Steve out the back door with a hand on the small of his back. A warm pressure, grounding and promising.

A warm evening greets them on their way out, they settle against a wall, still close. Eddie’s mind is racing, when is it not, and every second he is reminded that he thinks Steve is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. Gazing at his side profile, his strong jaw and full lips which have remnants of glitter, the freckles and moles on every slip of visible golden skin, eyelashes that flutter over to Eddie giving him a look he feels is similar if not more knowing.

“So, you wanted to talk more privately with me?” pink lips stretch into an easy grin and Eddie throws his head back, partly exasperated and partly completely into it. Eddie loves Steve.

He looks back down to the angel. “Yeah, just wanted to catch up, how you been?” his voice deepens without his consciousness, playing into the joke.

His partner almost looks shocked but falls right into his role. “Oh, how nice of you to check in!” he steps closer, tipping his chin up at Eddie, “Well I’ve been feeling a little lonely actually.” Full-on pouting and pretending Eddie’s dick isn’t rock hard at this point.

One thing he never predicted was to have the upper hand, sexually, on Steve Harrington. And he probably doesn’t but, Eddie knows what he wants. Has memorised how he looks with pleading eyes just to get what he wants and how he practically melts if he’s cuddled the right way or how his headspace changes if he’s held anywhere on his neck. This all melds into, Eddie knows how Steve thinks he wants this to play out and he knows how he actually wants it to.

“Oh yeah? That’s interesting,” Eddie slowly backs Steve against the wall adjacent, “because I’ve been feeling pretty abandoned all night,” Steve looks like he's about to argue, so Eddie puts a ringed, tattooed finger up to his lips pushing ever so slightly, “and I came here thinking I was gonna spend some time with you, maybe just buy you a drink. You see how that makes me feel? Did you think about how I would feel when you were talking to some fuck-head wearing loafers in a bar.”

That elicits a giggle from Steve and it vibrates on Eddie’s finger before he pulls it away, he relaxes into the wall and lets Eddie cage him in. Eddie loves Steve.

“Or was it all part of your plan? Tryna get me jealous, Stevie?” he looks down at Steve’s lips, they part as he speaks.

“And if I was?”

Their bodies move towards each other, magnetic forces pulling them into one and everything is Steve. Eddie can smell his shampoo, his cologne and the beer, can feel his strong arms beside him and the heat radiating off him like he’s actually familiar with the sun.

He is irresistible and a temptation from sinful gods and Eddie would make wings out of wax to get too close and burn and fall a million times over. Eddie loves Steve. Eddie is in love with Steve.

“Well then I’d say it worked, but only because I was already in love with you, Steve.”

Steve’s whole face drops and there's a flash of an angry look before strong hands are on Eddie’s face yanking him down into Steve’s. There's a split second of confusion that immediately dissolves into a Greek chorus of ‘yes yes yes’ in Eddie’s mind.

The kiss is undeniably hot, Steve is moving his tongue in ways he should be worshipped for and mewling like a goddamn kitten every time Eddie nips at his lips. Opening up so pretty for Eddie to explore, taste and Eddie is lost in him.

He meets the hand winding in his hair with a groan into the younger man’s mouth, another hand pressing nails into his back. It’s wet and noisy and fucking delicious, he can’t ever imagine stopping or having enough.

One of his own ringer hands finds it threading between silky brown tendrils and Eddie has been dying to do this from the moment he got close with Steve; he brings his hand from the nape of Steve’s neck and grabs a handful and just pulls.

Steve’s mouth pulls away from his, spit glistening on both of their panting mouths, letting out a filthy moan which Eddie licks from his mouth. His neck bared, allowing his head to be moved however Eddie decides. Heavy lidded gaze and Steve just waits. Silent and panting and keeping eye contact, breath quickening when Eddie begins to speak.

“We need to leave now, yeah?”

It’s not Eddie in control when Steve nods his head roughly.

Eddie is in love with Steve.

Steve is in love with Eddie.

Eddie is going to ruin Steve.

- notes, thanks for reading hope you enjoyed!

#steddie #eddie munson #steddie smut #steve harrington #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eightsevenths 📓#steve harrington and eddie munson #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x steve harrington

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dunnswrld · 2 years

Note

sorry if this is demanding lol but could you develop further on hooters waitress reader and the boys? That was such a good concept and I’ve reread it like 20 times. I imagine them like arguing over who gets her number and them all following her out the back of the restaurant when she goes out to take a smoke break or something and standing around just to talk to her and fight for her attention😭or they ask her to take part in some stupid steveo bit and any other instance steveo would refuse to embarrass himself infront of a pretty girl but he’d literally do anything for your attention he doesn’t even care what he’s doing aslong as your watching him lmfao. I get it’s a little hard to develop on so no worries if you’d rather not☺️☺️

this isn’t demanding at all dw! i was planning on writing a part two for it anyway so this just gives me an exuse to do it quicker hehe also sorry if this isn’t very good i kinda rushed-

link to part one!

once you left the table to fetch the eight beers and one rootbeer almost all of the guys were babbling about you. they were treating you like you were the only girl on planet earth.

“did you see how pretty she was?”

“yeah we all have eyes ehren.”

“someones mad he’s only 20.”

“shut up!”

johnny seemed to be peaking over towards the bar to see if you would be returning anytime soon, he was hoping he could beat the guys to asking you for your number. but he knew how hard of a game that would be speaking that basically the whole table was after you.

but as he realized how hard it would be to catch you by yourself without any of his friends near the gears in his head began to turn; a competition.

a competition to see who can woo you the most into giving them your number. basically a competition where the best man wins.

johnny would then shush any conversations happening currently so he could explain his idea he thought was brilliant. once he was able to quiet down the table- which already took a lot out of him- he explained his idea for the competition.

“what if we all try and win her over yeah? like a competition? whoever gets her number first wins.”

rick and jeff were 100% on board, they came here to get footage and they would be mad if they left with nothing but a bill. but the rest of the guys were iffy- the thought of being rejected by such a pretty girl like you haunted their thoughts. johnny needed something to get the guys to say yes and fast.

“jeff will pay for our bills if ya guys do it!”

“i will?”

“yes! yes you will!”

after that everyone seemed to be on board, well, everyone but jeff but he probably deserved it.

the table was soon loud once again with bickering coming from almost every guy at the table.

“this challenge is going to be easy as pie.”

“yeah maybe if you arent 12 years old.”

“we probably aren’t the first people to ask her for her number here so we should have nothing to worry about.”

“yeah it just means she’s better at rejecting dudes.”

“am i really paying?”

“steve-o move your damn arm for for the last time! you’re blocking the shot!”

but just as quick as the table got loud it simmered down to silence when a figure appeared at the end of the table. but when the boys were able to look at the waitresses face they realized it wasn’t you- instead it was a shorter girl with bleach blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

as she began to hand out the beers on the tray that rested on her left palm all the guys looked at her in silence, and not because they thought she was attractive- well she was but she wasn’t you. after looking at the girl like she had just walked off a ufo johnny finally spoke up,

“sorry if this sounds rude miss but where is our previous server?”

“oh yn? she’s taking her fifteen in the back, she’ll be back soon-“

the table didn’t even let the poor girl finish her sentence before they all were pushing and shoving to get out of the large booth they were in. all of them seemed to dash out the front doors, rick followed close behind with his camera.

the girl looked back at the table and saw the only man who stayed behind, jeff. he had a rather unhappy face plastered on his own.

“um.. do you want the bill sir?”

*large sigh* “yeah i’ll take the bill.”

johnny was the first one to swing open the front doors to the restaurant, he began to swing his head from left to right hoping he would spot you before anyone else did. when he swung his head to the left once more he saw gray smoke coming from the side of the building. his eyes lit up as he shoved out of the crowd the rest of the guys put him in and quickly jogged over to the corner to see who was behind it.

the rest of the guys followed him, some not even noticing the smoke coming from behind the wall but instead just following him because they didn’t know where to go themselves.

when the boys turned the corner they finally saw you again. you had a white puffer jacket on to protect yourself from the cold fall nights and a freshly lit cigarette between your lips. but the boys weren’t exactly quiet, their stumbling and shifting was rather loud which caused you to turn your head to them. when you recognized the boys as the table you had inside your brows furrowed.

“um you guys could’ve just left the tip on the table you know?”

“what? oh yeah- we aren’t here to give you a tip.”

“…am i not getting one..?”

“no no you are! we just came out here for something else.”

“are you guys about to kidnap me or something? cause if so this is the longest start to a kidnapping ever. aren’t you guys supposed to be quick?”

johnny seemed defeated after your words, it was almost like he was shooting himself in the foot with each sentence he said. he was just nervous- like really nervous.

if it couldn’t get more weird a guy with a camera shoved through the seven other guys with a rather annoyed expression. the man shifted his camera to his left hand and stuck out his right.

“hi im rick nice to meet you- anyway what i think he was trying to say is that we- actually not we just them- came out here to ask you for your number.”

“hey? is that a camera? are you filming?”

“yes and yes say hi to mtv- now back to the point.”

you looked over rick’s shoulder as you shook his hand, the group of seven boys all nervously standing behind him as some gave a smile or a small wave.

“all of them? well i can’t really give it to all of them, that would make me a- you know what im thinking of.”

all eight of the guys nodded at your words, now that they think about it it probably was weird for all seven of them to ask for your number like they did.

“you can pick the best looking one of us!”

all the guys groaned at johnnys words, even rick. everyone knew what johnny implied by that- he was the “it boy” of the group and maybe even the face of their tv show.

“you must get off to setting us all up for failure like that knoxville.” -bam

“seriously dude!” -steve-o

“competitions aren’t always fair boys.” -johnny

“competition? what competition?”

it fell quiet as the boys looked at you, rick holding back maybe the biggest laugh he ever has as he watched the scene unfold. there was no way you were going to take being made into a competition lightly.

“we’re having a competition to see who can get your number first.”

all the guys turned to chris in horror after he so nonchalantly told you that, even with a smile and laugh at the end.

but none of the guys were expecting the silence to be broken by your laughter, they didn’t know if you were laughing cause you were mad or causw you genuinely thought they situation was funny. so, they all nervously began laughing with you. though chris’s laugh was genuine.

“oh my god! thats the funniest thing ive ever been told!- oh no my cigarette-“

“you actually think it’s funny?” -ehren

“well yeah, ive never had people have a competition to get my number before.”

“can one of us get your number then or..?” -ryan

“sorry boys it’s against policy to give out my number to customers.”

“we didn’t even pay for our food our friend did! he’s the only customer!” -bam

“plus you’re on your break! you technically aren’t even working right now.” -dave

you laugh at the boys strong wills, they all seemed very dedicated to this which you couldn’t understand why. you worked at hooters and from your understanding not many guys would want a girl who worked at hooters.

“you all are very funny but i have to get back to work now and thanks to you guys i didn’t get to enjoy my last cigarette in my pack.”

steve-o’s eyes seemed to light up at your words about how you were fresh out of cigarettes. he dug into the pocket of his jeans and shoved past johnny to be face-to-face with you for the first time. he couldn’t help but look at you for a bit just to admire you, your cheeks were rosey from the cold night air and you really were just breathtaking to him.

“here take my pack. i’ve only smoked one stick.”

“oh no i couldnt take your basically new pack, it’s fine really.”

“no seriously dude take it, i have a spare in my hotel room.”

you smiled and took the pack of cigarettes from the boy with the buzzcut and sweet smile. you shoved the pack of cigarettes into your pocket and said your final goodbyes to the group of boys before pushing open the back door of the restaurant. all the boys watched your figure until the large door shut behind you.

“well looks like we all lost the competition.” -chris

“we lost? oh no dude i totally won.”

“what? how the hell did you win steve-o? ya barely said anything other than giving her a pack!” -johnny

“exactly dude i gave her my pack, i write my name and number on the inside in case i lose it!”

“oh you have to be shitting me- i lost because you’re a cheap cigarette smoker who is scared of losing a pack?!” -bam

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zabiume · 10 months

Text

“We should get married,” he says to her when she fully wakes up, watching her stretch her arms above her with a lazy yawn.

IchiHime Week, Day 04: Engagement

She comes home in the early hours of dawn, lids heavy with obvious signs of exhaustion when he lets her in. If it was up to Ichigo, he’d rather Orihime didn’t take night shifts so often, but a co-worker is pregnant and she wants to be helpful.

Or so she said the first three times he asked her about it. Now when he tells her she looks dead on her feet, she simply rolls her eyes and heads to the bathroom. Soon, the apartment fills with familiar sounds as she mechanically winds down for bed. The lone window in Orihime’s living room lets in a splintered, premature ray of light in. Ichigo decides to make her some tea. He’s slept over enough to know the in-and-outs of her apartment, the rattle of her old heater, the creak in that one floorboard between her bathroom and kitchen, the little pots of tea powder and cookies in cabinets.

Orihime’s idle noises shift from room to room as she ambles about, shutting drawers and flicking off switches. By the time he’s set her tea cup on a little plate, she’s already in pajamas and a loose low bun, dragging her futon out to the living room with a single arm.

“Oh.” She lets it flop and dusts her palms. “Thanks.”

Ichigo slides the plate towards her. She’s not a quiet person by any means, but she’s at her most silent after a shift at the bakery, content to just close her eyes and inhale the steam. He absorbs the moment with her, the early morning quiet of her apartment lulling them both into an idle haze. When she finishes up, he takes her plate and cup and sets it in the sink before coming back to her.

"You're such a good boyfriend." She leans over the counter to wrap her arms around his shoulders in a loose hug. He lets his hands drift from her shoulders to her back, then lets her go.

"Thanks. I try."

“No wasabi, though,” she complains sleepily.

“Go to bed,” he dismisses.

Orihime pretends to sulk, letting him lead her to her futon. She gets on all fours and then rolls onto her back, the world forgotten, her bed her only friend. Ichigo shakes his head. On a coffee table are his manuscripts, looking forlorn and filled with illegible pencil scratches. He should probably get back to those.

He feels a tug on his pant leg and looks down, surprised to see Orihime still awake and looking at him, face half-buried in her pillow. She pats her bedcover. “Will you stay with me?”

Ichigo snorts. “Okay.”

He nudges the coffee table away and lifts the cover up to burrow his way in. The sheets are still cold-ish, but in a nice way. He shifts a little, then finds an angle where he can prop himself up on an elbow but still be looking at her.

“I’m home,” she whispers, side-crawling herself closer to him.

“Welcome back,” Ichigo acknowledges, stroking her head gently.

Orihime wraps an arm around his torso and lets her lids fall closed, her body soft and supple with sleepiness. Within seconds, her breathing turns heavy and she’s out. Ichigo presses a kiss to her hair and then reaches for his work, lying on his back so he can keep his promise to her and still read. It probably shouldn’t feel this normal to send her off to work, spend the night here and then welcome her back in the next morning, but it does. He feels so completely himself, actualized, all his bones sitting just right in his body. He feels more man than boy — answerable to no one but himself, responsible for no one but himself and maybe. Maybe her. He likes the thought of that, the feeling of confidence and purpose it brings.

A thought is born, then dies, then is born again—fully formed, clear, right. He reaches for his papers with a renewed vigor. Hours pass, and daylight fully makes itself home in the apartment. Eventually, Orihime’s snores fade out and she starts showing signs of life, searching absently around her to make sure he’s still there.

“We should get married,” he says to her when she fully wakes up, watching her stretch her arms above her with a lazy yawn.

Orihime’s arms freeze and then drop. Her eyes split open and she blinks them again, and again, and again. “Huh?”

“I mean.” He glances at her. “Do you want to get married?”

Orihime stares at him for what feels like a full minute, her cheeks growing redder and redder as his words sink in. She suddenly pulls the bed sheet over her head and—seemingly—tries to disappear inside it.

Ichigo is honestly baffled.

“Hey.” He frowns, dragging the sheet down with two fingers until he can see her face. “What’s with that reaction?”

“Nothing,” she breathes, sitting up, looking lost. “It’s just…I mean, you said…” She flails, making inarticulate gestures.

“That we should get married?” he prompts, and she squeaks, covering her mouth with both hands.

“Kurosaki-kun,” she blurts, and his eyebrows shoot to the roof because wow, has it been a while since she called him that. Her reaction makes him consider what he just suggested, and his heart starts surging fast and hard like a delayed reaction. All that nervousness he didn’t even think to have before returns now, making him a little self-conscious. This is a crossroads in other people's relationships, he thinks and starts to panic.

“Sorry,” he says hastily, sheepish. “Was that out of line?”

“No, no.” Orihime shakes her head quickly. “It was just, um. A little unexpected?”

“Y-Yeah,” Ichigo stutters, feeling his cheeks and ears get warm. Great going, dumbass, he thinks, because honestly, this is the least romantic proposal and he really should have given his thoughts some time to marinate before he let them go to his tongue.

“Right.” Orihime says, and the pink from her cheeks has yet to recede. “So.”

“Yeah,” Ichigo says, a little stupidly.

“Was that-” She stops herself, then forges on, a little too preoccupied with her fingers. “Were you trying to-”

“Yeah,” he says again, finding the courage to reach for her hand. “I was trying to propose, I guess. Sorry it came out like that. I was just thinking, I mean. We were here, and everything felt so normal, I guess I just decided to go for it." He swallows, hard. "I've always–wanted it. Since."

"Since you started sleeping over?"

"Since a little before we started dating," he admits, watching her eyes go wide.

“Ichigo-kun.” Orihime suddenly looks vulnerable, uncertain. "You want to marry me?" She glances around her apartment and he tries to see what she sees, tries to understand why her voice got so small. In Orihime's eyes, all this must not mean much, her humble abode with shitty heating and cramped up space.

To Ichigo, it's proof that she can make life worth living wherever she goes. There's a strength in that and he’s wanted it by his side ever since he had the courage to ask.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I want to marry you."

Orihime sniffs and reaches for him. Within seconds she's in his arms, ("Happy crying," she reassures him through sobs) and he does his best to hold her tight, to calm his racing heart.

"Orihime," he says, pulling back to meet her eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Orihime nods eagerly. Then she releases a sound between a laugh and a cry, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. "Where's my phone," she mutters, still staying in his embrace but glancing around for the device.

"What do you need it for?"

"I have to tell Tatsuki-chan!" she says, sounding astounded that he would even ask such a thing.

Ichigo chuckles despite himself.

"Idiot," he says, strengthening his hold on her so she won't escape. "You haven't even told me."

Orihime whips her head around, surprised, and then her face softens into a deep and fervent adoration, eyes shining with joy. When she looks at him like this, he feels a furious rush of invincibility, like he really is every nice thing people have said about him — kind, brave, a hero.

Orihime cups his face and touches their foreheads together until all he can see is the happy curve of her mouth. "I'll marry you," she whispers, and he memorizes the shape of her lips saying it until she pulls him into a kiss and says it again.

__________

They do the shrine visit on the coldest day of the year, a bandaid they’ve been hesitant to rip off after all the excitement and buzz of the proposal. So far, only Ichigo’s family knows, and once they offer their prayers, they’ll wait until the new year to tell everyone else.

Frost breath puffs out of their mouths as they clear away the snow, their fingers cold and numb on the stone of Sora’s shrine. A ghost watches them, a few headstones away. When they’re done, Ichigo taps Orihime on the shoulder and then heads over wordlessly to perform the konso. It wails at his approach — the way most do when they realize death has come to them, a reality that screams with fear, regret, acceptance, denial, and then silence. Just silence. The air smells faintly sweet for a moment, a half-remembered scent of someone’s perfume, brief and already fading.

Ichigo returns to his body, and they take a moment to offer their prayers — not just to Sora and Masaki, but to all the departed souls that won’t get to see their loved ones’ married next year. Nothing deepens grief more than a missed milestone and the walk back to her apartment is quiet, contemplative, their hands linked down to the knuckle.

They only part when they enter the foyer, blood slowly returning to circulation. Orihime takes the first bath and then she runs him one, too. In the water his body is slightly flushed — calloused in some parts, but not scarred. He has Orihime to thank for softening the blows, and Orihime to thank again for not being able to remember most of them. Like grief or love, the ache is only a phantom one.

When he comes out, still damp and slightly steamy, Orihime is curled under the kotatsu in a heavy robe, chin tucked on her stacked forearms.

“Hey.” He slides in with her, their knees bumping under the low table. “Thanks for the bath.”

She acknowledges him with a small smile, one hand reaching for his thigh as she moves to rest her head on his shoulder. The crown of her head is damp against his neck, but he doesn’t move her. “Today was rough, huh.”

“We knew it would be.” Ichigo throws his arm around her in a loose grip. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay.” She sighs, tilting her head back on his shoulder to look at him. “You?”

Ichigo smiles. “Considered eloping once to escape all the…” He makes a gesture that doesn’t really mean anything, but Orihime grins back like she understands.

“That could be fun.”

“Tatsuki would kill me before we even left the district.”

“Oh, poo.” Orihime scowls, and Ichigo resists the urge to kiss her soft, full mouth. “Whatever happened to the punk I married who punched fifteen goons a week?”

“You haven’t married him yet,” Ichigo reminds her. Then, “Was it really that many?”

“I don’t know, I just threw a number out.” For a minute, they just stay like that, their bodies pressed ankle to ankle, thigh to thigh. Then, she pushes herself off of him, suddenly tense. “Ichigo-kun…” She sounds worried, her eyes looking lost as she searches his face.

“What?”

She swallows and her eyes tear away from him to stare at her own knees. “I don’t have a lot — some savings, and very little left over from what my aunt gave me in high school. Everything I know about loving someone, I learned from loving you. And the only real family I have is the one we made together.” Her voice catches. “I don’t…have traditions, and I never—dreamed of what my wedding or my future family would be like. I didn’t even think I would have one.”

Ichigo tucks her hair behind her ear, his knuckles brushing against her soft cheek. “Orihime…”

“This doesn’t happen to people like me,” she confesses, and he knows from the way her throat tightens that she’s trying hard not to cry. “I don’t know what kind of cutlery goes with what kind of meat—”

“ — I don’t care about that.”

“ — And I’m always so loud…”

He doesn’t refute that.

“And I won’t even welcome you home or run your baths because I’ll be at the bakery—”

“I’ll welcome you home,” Ichigo says simply. “I’ll run your baths.”

“Ichigo-kun,” she despairs.

“Orihime,” Ichigo says, “I don’t care about traditions or rules or any of that crap. Whatever we decide from here on, we make the rules. I can’t promise you that it’ll be perfect all the time, and we’ll probably have our ups and downs, but I can promise you that I’ll try. I’ll always try.”

Orihime looks up at him, unsure, and he smoothens her brow with a finger. "I know we're young," he says, "but I want this."

Orihime's eyes soften and she returns to resting her head on his shoulder, relieved, as always, by his simple honesty. "I do, too," she replies, taking refuge in the steady, confident beat of his heart under her fingertips. "You have to know I do."

Ichigo nods and kisses her on the crown of her head. "I know."

"Did you ever think about what our wedding should be like?"

Ichigo pauses. He’s never been to a lot of weddings. He doesnt think his parents even had one – or at least, not a traditional one with both their families around. He thinks back to the last wedding he went to, recalls Renji's nervous face and Rukia's wistful smile amidst a lavish Kuchiki affair — austere and regal, but ultimately happy. He frowns. "Maybe something not so formal, y'know. Something simple."

Orihime hums in agreement.

“What about you?”

She considers it for a moment, then says, "I want everyone we love to be there, and I want them to eat well. And I want to bake our wedding cake myself."

Ichigo raises a brow. "Are you sure?"

Orihime nods, wrapping her arms around his neck so she can press a kiss to his cheek. "Strawberry shortcake."

"Hm? Oh—thought you were calling me that." He quickly frowns when her mouth opens. "Don't."

Orihime laughs and holds his face so she can kiss him. "Thank you," she says, and really, she means it as a catch-all for everything, her eyes fluttering open to see the man she loves in front of her.

Ichigo gives her a small smile. "Don't mention it."

__________

They get married at a courthouse on a lovely summer day, with closest family and friends in attendance. There are no customs, no rituals, just two simple signatures on a family register — one firm and the other neat. At the dinner banquet, they sit at a simple long table with enough food to go around, and a strawberry shortcake slice on every plate. Everyone is full and drunk and just a little weepy and when their gazes are all turned away, Ichigo kisses his bride, just a private moment between the two of them. The rest, as they say, is history.

#this one was short enough to post on tumblr :D #ihweek2023 #ichihime #love themmmm <3 happy ichihime week!!#myfic

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kat651 · 5 months

Note

hello i was wondering is you could do a hurt/comfort fic with lindir where the reader has Vitiligo and tries to hide it but Lindir finds it amazing and can’t help but stare. Maybe the reader thinks he’s being rude at first because of how much he stares and later realizes he just loves the reader’s unique skin?

You didn’t exactly hate your condition but you didn’t like it either. You hid it as much as possible, especially from Lindir who for some reason would just stare at any place that your skin was exposed, making you even more uncomfortable about your appearance.

You hid from most the elves except for Arwen who never said a mean thing about your skin. She was the only person you were comfortable talking to about it. But she had a lot to do as a princess and many times you had no one to talk to. She was currently in Lothlórien, visiting Galadriel and Celeborn ,her grandparents. (Look it up if ya don’t believe me)

Today was one of those days. You were in the garden, sitting on the stone bench when you suddenly felt eyes on you. You turned to see two elves hide behind a tree and you sighed. “I know you’re there!”

The two came out from behind the tree. “Did you bathe in acid?” The first one asked.

“No, bleach, you definitely took a bath in bleach.” The second one taunted.

You bit the inside of your mouth in a temps to keep a straight face.

“We’ll tell us which was it?”

Your lip trembled and you looked down. “Please leave me alone,” you said.

The two ignored you and you ended running off, tears streaming down your cheeks.

You fell into a heap beneath a willow, crying softly. You looked down at your skin and began to rub it as if that would make it disappear.

The willow vines parted. “Ah, I see, you rub dirt on your skin, my mistake,” a voice said.

You looked up to see the elves from before. “Please just leave me alone,” you said quietly.

“Why should we? We live here too.”

You pulled your knees to your chest and your shawl slipped off of one of your shoulders and you didn’t even move to touch it. You let out a sob.

“What’s going on here?”

You peeked between the hair that had fallen around your face to see Lindir. You groaned internally another one here to call you a freak.

The elves turned and left. “Nothing.”

You sat for a while, waiting to hear Lindir walk off but he didn’t and after a moment he drew near and sat next to you.

You scrunched into an even tighter ball and trembled.

You felt a gentle touch as Lindir slowly traced your two different skin tones with his fingers.

You looked over at him. “Have you come to tease me too?”

He pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry I should have asked before touching you. And no, I wouldn’t dream of teasing you.”

You scoffed and pulled the shawl back over your shoulder. “That’s hard to believe when I catch you staring at me constantly.”

He looked away and placed a hand on the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to stare I just…i… I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable in what I’m going to say but I find your condition-”

“Ugly, bizarre, strange?”

“…beautiful” he finished, gently cupping your face in his hands. “I find you beautiful.”

You gave him a skeptical look and searched his eyes for any lie when you found none, you softened. “You really think that I’m… beautiful?”

He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

You felt your face lighten and the corner of your lips turn into a slight smile.

-.-.-

The elves from before blocked your way and snickered. “I put fifty coins that you used bleach.”

You raised a brow. “I’m sorry but you’re wrong,” you said taking the coin bag from his hand. “But thank you for placing a bet.”

You walked off with a smile as you tossed the coin bag in the air.

Sudenly, Lindir joined you.

“FREAK!” The elf shouted.

Lindir turned to confront the elf but you beat him to it. “I’ve been called worse by better.” You said as you took Lindir’s hand and continued walking. “Come on.”

He smiled. “Nice comeback…” he whispered.

The two of you headed out to a small pond and you smiled up at him. “You helped me realize it doesn’t matter what others think, thank you.”

He took both of your hands in his. “Y/n… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I-I like you a lot… I mean, more than just a friend…y/n, I-I’m in love… with you.”

You blinked in shock before standing on the tips of your toes and placing your lips on his. “Lindir…”

-.-.-

A month later, Arwen returned and was shocked to find you in a purple dress with only one strap. She walked up to you. “Y/n?”

You spun around. “Arwen, you’re back.”

“The dress is beautiful but, I’m surprised.”

You smiled. “Ive become more than comfortable in my skin.”

Sudenly, Lindir was by your side with his hand on your bare shoulder. “Welcome back, lady Arwen.”

She smiled. “It would appear you’ve befriended y/n…”

Lindir and you smiled at one another. “Actually…” Lindir began.

“He’s courting me…” you finished, a smile on your face.

Arwen squealed with excitement. “That’s amazing! Who else knows?”

��Practically all of Rivendell,” Elrond said. “The two are nearly inseparable.”

Lindir kissed your cheek. “It’s not my fault she has my heart…”

You smiled. “Lindir…”

#lotr #lord of the rings #lindir x reader #lindir #lindir x you #elrond #lord elrond #arwen #kat651

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animeloverskylarmoon · 28 days

Text

Byakuya Kuchiki (Bleach) Short Story: Chapter 5

It’s become apparent that the only thing you can do is avoid Byakuya. You can’t deal with anything. Not his confession or your own feelings. In theory, this is your dream. He literally said that he wants to be your lover.

“I should be happy that our feelings are mutual.”

Although that is the case, you can’t help but think about what it means. Not just his position as a captain, but his status as a noble. You aren’t naive. You’ve heard about his late wife. Rukia’s sister.

Hisana.

His family hated him for marrying someone who wasn’t what they viewed as important, but he did anyway.

“What’ll happen if they find out he’s interested in someone as plain as me.”

Surely he’ll lose the respect of his clan.

You let out another sigh as you try to stay focused on restocking the gauze. Hanataro has noticed your worried expressions.

“Is everything alright (Y/N)-chan?”

“Hai.”

You work up a smile on your face as you finish up. Byakuya seems to have gotten quite busy. Rukia had told you that he was appointed a mission in the world of the living. Which gave you a little time to work through your thoughts.

Standing, you turn.

“I’ll be turning in.”

You bow and Hanataro watches as you walk out.

As you’re making your way through the squad barracks you try to settle your mind. But it’s no use.

All you can think about is him.

His words.

His face.

Why did he have to be so perfect? Just a few months ago the both of you barely acknowledged each other.

Except maybe that’s not the whole truth. That first mission you did together. He said that he remembered you. Back when Aizen had everyone deceived. When you were just trying to be a good healer. Back then, just the thought of defeating a hollow was so out of the realm of possibility for you.

“Has he..always thought about me since then..”

You can’t help but wonder now. Because these feelings seem to have come out of nowhere and that seems so unlikely.

“(L/N)-san.”

The voice startles you, and standing right in front of your quarters is Byakuya. You almost bite your tongue.

How are you supposed to get out of this? It’s easy when he’s not around. But how do you explain all the other times that you’d literally disappeared when he showed up.

“K-Kuchiki-taicho, you’re back.”

You bow.

Maybe if you feign obliviousness, he won’t figure it out.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

Your body grows stiff and you rise slowly. Your eyes are sheltered by your hair. Just the thought of looking at him would be too much.

The silence speaks for itself.

“Is the thought of us together that unsettling to you?”

You press your hand to your chest at his question.

“I..I..”

You feel like crying.

“I see. I apologize. I won’t force you to do anything that you aren’t comfortable with. I should have been more considerate. I made feelings known, but I never asked how you felt. If those feelings were even returned.”

This is your chance to speak. Explain why this is so hard, but no words will leave your lips.

“Please excuse me.”

He turns in the opposite direction, walking away. With each step, there’s a tug at your heart. A subtle pull that hurts more than you expected. You clench your fists tighter.

“Coward…I’m a coward..”

Why can’t you just say the words.

Say the words.

SAY IT!

“I-I LIKE YOU!!”

Byakuya froze in his spot. He turns, and his expression shows obvious shock.

“I..I like you so much b-but… but we’re different. What if you end up in pain..fighting with your family because of me..”

“So that’s it.”

It’s not a matter of unrequited feelings.

You mean to say more, but in a matter of seconds he's standing right in front of you.

“K-Kuchiki-”

“My family’s views on who I pursue do not concern me.”

You’re a bit speechless.

“I have done my part. I once placed my pride before my integrity and I made a vow to never do that again. The ones that I hold dear, they are the only ones whose opinions hold any kind of weight. The rest of them believe that status is the most important.”

When he reaches out and takes your hand, it slowly lowers from the protective position against your chest.

“If you return these feelings, then nothing else should matter.”

You might actually start crying. Byakuya brings your hand up to his lips, placing a tender kiss on your knuckles. Your cheeks heat up, and you can only gape. His stoic gaze that has always given off a sense of nonchalance is so much more tender.

“Do you truly feel the same?”

You nod, cheeks still a heated red.

“H-Hai!”

It’s one of the rare times that he smiles, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.

You never want to forget this.

#byakuya kuchiki #bleach #humor #byakuya x reader #cute #gotei13 #feelings #soul reapers #soul society #trust #care #love #protective

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sansxfuckyou · 7 months

Text

Compact Confessional

Summary: Mysterion is holding something from the rest of the Freedom Pals. They should respect his privacy, they really should- but they only take it as a challenge.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, privacy breach, betrayal of trust, swearing, feral behavior (in Kite), the authors attempt at humor, heavy guilt, interrogation, it gets worse but then it gets better guys, I promise

Authors Note: hurgh K2, with the additional flavor of kitesterion because I went batshit over the AU to an insane degree. I have no clue when the Ao3 port is dropping. Sorry if some of the colored text, isnt colored. And fair warning, this badboy levels around 10K words, tumblr starts to lag around 7.5K for anyone curious. it is almost 3 AM (do artists ever stay up insanely late to finish big projects and get so sleepy they forget the hotkey for the eraser tool? I wouldn't know, but somewhere along the line I kept trying to write segue way with a Q because I was fucking disoriented) I need to go to sleep right the fuck now

Mysterion is keeping something from the Freedom Pals, he's keeping something from all of them. Maybe if he was willing to talk about it with someone everyone wouldn't find it so intriguing. Maybe then everyone wouldn't want to know what it is that's so fucking important that no one is allowed to know about it.

Super Craig tries to act like it's nothing super big, aware that if everybody paid no mind to it that it might come out faster. Tupperware followed suite with the idea, Wonder Tweek tagging in as well. Other members of their franchise were a lot less… subtle, about their interest in Mysterions secret, whatever it is. The Coon is practically begging him every single day to tell him what it is, Call Girl even joins in. Toolshed is pretty sure the both of them are just making things worse it they want Mysterion to come clean.

Human Kite is the only one that refuses to meddle at all, even Doctor Timothy has tried getting a peek in Mysterions mind. The alien is the only one that sits there and listens to him bitch about how annoying they are. The only one that pauses to look and listen and take in every visual and audible cue because that's what he's known to do since he first landed way back when. It tells him a lot about his teammates if nothing else.

Still.

Mysterion- no, Kenny McCormick is hiding something from his friends. And given the fact that it's barely coming out even when he's in a state of delirium or terribly wounded, it must be something big.

It's starting to piss off Kyle a little bit.

-/-/-/-

"Thanks for letting me hang out for a bit man," Kenny said as he pulled on his orange parka. He opted to leave his bleached cargo shorts and purple everything else in a pile on Kyles bedroom floor. It was easy to do that when the alien offered to wash them, "Chilling with Cartman all the time definitely does not do wonders for ones mental health."

Kyle gives a laugh, the kind that leaves teeth too sharp on full display. "Totally, I swear to fuck that asshole needs therapy," He stills his tail from wagging like he's a little kid, except, when he was a little kid he tied his tail up so it wouldn't be exposed in an all too human world. An extremely uncaring world for anything different then what they know as normalcy.

"He needs so much therapy," Kenny answered with, "See you tomorrow?"

"On our patrol, I'll make sure your suit is washed," Kyle said, throwing an arm to the side, an invitation for a hug. He wouldn't be sad if Kenny didn't take it, but he still can't help the way his heart skips several beats when he gets one. An anchoring tightness enveloping him, squeezing a comfortable amount on his rib cage that would hurt if he was human.

"Thanks Kyle," Kenny said quietly, head propped near Kyles shoulder but not quite tall enough to rest it on top. He pushes himself on his tippy toes to press the top of his head to the bottom of Kyles chin. He takes a dramatic step back and maybe Kyles tail is swaying a little bit with a silky soft comfort residing on his skin. He clasps his hands together, "Tomorrow."

"Yeah man, see you then," Kyle said, the instant he realized his tail was doing the thing he stilled it entirely. He felt a slight singe of cyan embarrassment. Stupid alien anatomy. Giving away how he feels.

Kenny pivots on his heel and gives a wave, "See ya man!" His steps are light and Kyle is watching with maybe a little bit too much intent.

He has zero legal rights to do so, but emotional and psychological rights? He has plenty. The first one being that he might've imprinted on Kenny the second his family landed on earth. He might've latched onto both Mysterion and Kenny like an orphan duckling in his childhood era of existing- so much so that he couldn't help the absolute giddiness when he learned they were the same. Maybe he got a little bit too attached to Kenny compared to everyone else in a human sense. But in an alien sense, in his instinctual sense, he was the perfect amount of attached considering how he thought of Kenny.

The second reason he stared was because Kenny had an undeniably amazing ass. That wasn't just personal opinion either, they held a vote after a particularly odd argument in the Freedom Pals lair. Kenny won by an absolute fucking landslide in the votes and voter fraud having taken place can't be confirmed or denied by anyone.

Except for Doctor Timothy of course.

And if there is a god, Kyle is praying everyday that the human one makes sure that Doctor Timothy doesn't look into the legitimacy of the votes.

Kyle barely drags himself back from his thoughts, he's been told he can get lost in them sometimes. His tail is wagging again, the multicolored diamond-like frills undulate a little bit. He swings the front door shut reluctantly when he can't see Kenny anymore. He tugs off his gloves and tosses them in a pile alongside his hat, letting the splotchy cyan coloration of his skin show. He makes his way up to his bedroom, but he finds his impossibly human little brother standing in his doorway.

"Ike, get out of the way," Kyle said sternly, giving a bit of a growl under his voice. His adoptive brother just quirks a brow in that annoying manner he learned from the humans.

Ike clears his throat, "No."

"Well why not?" Kyle questioned, growl snuffed and replaced with something louder and more resonant, it vibrated in his brothers flesh. It was something that Ike long since lost the ability to be intimidated by.

"When are you gonna stop inviting over your little posse of partners eh?" Ike asked, crossing one arm over the other. His tone was nothing but accusatory, Kyle saw through it.

"Are you jealous?" Came Kyles instant reaction.

"No," Ike responded with far too fast to be true.

"I'll play some video games with you on Thursday," Kyle offered.

Ike moved out of the way, "Enjoy wallowing in your disgusting room bud."

Kyle ignored him with nothing more than an eye roll, he made a point of slamming his door shut. He kicked aside a small heap of whatever, a mix of something or other he'd been intending to clean up. He gently picks up a small stack of comics Kenny had lent him and places them on his desk. Right beside the Mysterion charm. And the Mysterion action figure. And the other pieces of shitty Mysterion merchandise he had bought.

Okay, yeah, maybe he had a little bit too much Mysterion merchandise. He was just trying to put some extra cash into Kenny's pocket for when money is tight around the house. He just wanted to make sure his best friend was living a decent life, it wouldn't be enough to give him the life Kyle knew Kenny deserved, but it would help.

He takes hold of Kennys outfit and empties the contents of the pockets into a small bin. Loose change, granola bar wrappers, pocket knife, lock pick, the usual stuff he carried around for hero duties and then some. Kyle shakes the hood loose of any twigs or leaves and something large enough to clatter as it hits the metal netting of the bin falls out. His pointed ear gives a flick at the noise, he's dropping to the ground and pulling it out in a second.

He's completely enveloped in the mystery of what was hidden in Kennys hood because A: fucking genius hiding spot, and B: this could be what Kenny was hiding. It could be exactly what Kenny was trying so hard to keep under the radar, what he successfully kept hidden from everyone's prying eyes.

He came up with a tape, jet black, scratched plastic and a cracked see through window bit. There are silver markings across the black, seemingly unpredictable and laid out with either sharpie ink or a paint pen. The paper label is coffee stained and reads the date, recorded last month (why it's still on Kennys person is odd). The log number is left blank, presumably stated in the recording.

It was a jackpot and somewhere in the back of Kyles mind he knew he should ignore it. He knew this was shattering every rule in the book and that he'd be shattering his friendship with Kenny, Mysterion and Human Kite would probably stop being a dynamic duo at that.

But, he needed to know.

He absolutely fucking needed to know.

He wouldn't dare speak it too anyone ever, and he'd return it to the hood right afterwards. He wouldn't even tell Kenny that he listened to it, he'd just sleep at night knowing exactly what Kennys secret is. And that would be more than good enough for Kyle, he wouldn't need anything else.

He reaches blindly for his cassette player, the one he's held onto since he was young. One of his earliest earthly possessions, one he still cherished and used every day. He popped out the cassette already inside and gently placed the pilfered audio into it. He eagerly grabs his earbuds before pressing play.

Professor Chaos is pretty fucking sure doing this shit is helping out my mental state or whatever He doesn't know what he's dealing with He doesn't know that he's playing with fire trying to get me to spill my guts on his fancy therapy chair But, here I am, sitting on top of the police station fully decked out in my Mysterion persona just chatting it up with myself again

I already know exactly what the problem here is Chaos, the center of this massive shitfuck that even paid therapy couldn't fix!

I've probably said that a million times in every one of these stupid fucking recordings... shit I forgot to do that log date ha!

Ahem, log three, topic. Whatever comes out of my fucking mouth.

Kyle presses pause hesitantly.

Oh god.

This is an audio diary, just for spilling Kennys guts.

And he's listening to it.

He should stop. He really, truly, should.

But he doesn't.

Instead he presses play.

Where were we? Right, right, just saying whatever shit that comes to my mind . . . I'm pretty sure that Kyle thinks I can't see him stare at me whenever I fucking bend over or walk away I'm not complaining, I'm flattered really But jeez man just say it outright if you think I have a hot ass

The pause button is slammed this time.

Kyles face is burning up because Kenny knew apparently, he knew that Kyle stared at him at every chance he gets. He feels his stomach twist a bit because oh man, he got caught staring and Kenny didn't even mention. The usage of 'you' makes Kyle feel even more called out on the matter.

He could drop out now, maybe that's the secret, that Kenny knows he stares. He could sleep at night saying that's the thing he's keeping hidden.

I can't talk much if you put everything into consideration But still! Human Kite himself staring at my ass . . . That's fucking awesome if I'm being honest I would hope I'm being honest cause who else is gonna listen to the truth aside from this stupid tape

Like, I'm just doing whatever and I can feel it He is staring holes into me, somedays it's like he's hitting me with those fucking laser eyes! That'd be hilarious actually One second I'm loading a dishwasher and the next my ass is on fire because he couldn't help but stare The Coon would be laughing about that till he's dead

So would Toolshed

And Call Girl

And Mosquito

We'd all get a good laugh out of it

Except for Human Kite

I think he would die of embarrassment if he lit my ass on fire It'd be adorable Bright blue face, ears drooping the slightest bit, maybe his tail would do something I don't know He'd probably say sorry a lot All I know is that after I'm done putting out the fire I'd say "it's fine!" And then I'd think about how cute he looks for weeks on end

Fuck he's absolutely amazing in every sense of the word God, I'm supposed to use these to rant about my shitty family Not gush about my partner in heroics . Oh well

He's perfect! I swear on my mothers grave he is everything That grin he gets whenever he's about to blow someone sky high I can see almost all of his fangs when he does it, which are fucking scary by the way But I'll be damned if it isn't a little bit hot to think about He could kill me and I'll love him He could do absolutely anything to me and I'd still want him so fucking much

And!

And, and, and There's this little thing he does whenever he gets happy Where the weird bits on his tail like, shake? They move, his tail also wags But the frills don't move unless he's actually happy He can fake the wag but he can't fake the frills moving

It's so fucking cute and weird and different I love it

Anyways! This is South Parks number one worst superhero coming to you live from the top of the police station!

. . .

Shit I think someone heard me

Kyle is paralyzed as the tape ends, letting every single word soak into his brain. His tail is doing the thing, it's wagging. Every nerve in his body is alight and he feels his stomach twisting into knots. His claws are digging into the plastic of the tape player as he just stares. His eyes end up resting on his desk, his laptop, with all of his external attachments.

There's a rush to his movements as he grabs it and the oddest, most useless, thing he owns. A reverse recorder of sorts, a simple thing he crafted but never thought he'd have a chance to use. He flips open the top and jams the plug into it's socket before sliding the cassette as gently as possible into the gadget. He should not be doing this, he really shouldn't be doing this.

But he can't keep the cassette to keep hold of the audio, he needs too extract it if he ever wants to hear it again. Which is wrong, and bad, and he absolutely needs to stop but he isn't. He's clicking 'extract' and watching that loading bar fill up gratingly slow.

He places down his laptop gently and balls up the fabrics before leaving. There's a twist of wrong in his gut, but he ignores it as he swings open the washing machine door. He knows how fucking wretched this is, that he'll be absolutely ruined if anyone finds out. He won't be able to live down the shame of having anyone catch word that he knows the secret. That he knows what it is that's keeping Kenny wound up so tightly.

He'll just keep his mouth shut.

Real easy.

Real simple.

-/-/-/-

Kyle might be abusing the knowledge he garnered from the tape, maybe a little bit. He might be curling up next Kenny a little bit more than often, hunched under a flowing purple cape like a cougar despite the height difference. Just maybe he's resting his head atop Kenny's a little bit more than usual, purring a little bit louder whenever he comes into contact with Kenny.

He really doesn't care though, maybe there's a twisted sense of catharsis he gets from the knowledge that yes, it's reciprocated, despite doing nothing to change it. Being awkward homies acting like there's nothing going on below the surface is entirely acceptable and everything that he's wanted from Kenny the second his family landed. Definitely. Absolutely. He didn't imprint. He absolutely did not imprint. He killed off that instinct way back in fourth grade.

Right after he met Kenny.

One second too late. And he is one hundred percent sure everyone in his family can see it, even Ike! Except, the little shit will hold it over him if he gets a chance. Taunting and teasing that Kyle imprinted on his best friend instead of literally anyone else. Of course, the asshole knows better what with every member of his family sporting claws made to rend flesh.

"Kyle!"

The Broflovski perks up a bit at his name being called. Stan sits down across from him, sliding his safety glasses off as he does so.

"You good man?" Stan asked, Kyle nodded.

"I'm great, amazing even," Kyle said, he gestured vaguely as he spoke.

Stan stayed silent for a moment.

Kyle heaved a heavy sigh, "I think I fucked up the first day I landed."

"That was years ago, and just now it's affecting you?" Stan asked. He kicked up his feet to rest on the table.

"Yeah, and Kenny's sort of being an ass. He can trust us, he can trust us more than anyone else in this fucking town!" There's an exasperated exhale as he comes down from the near shout, "How come he's not telling us?"

Stan shrugged, "That's his business, if he doesn't want to tell us, just respect that."

"But-"

"Respect it," Stan pressed, "He might fess up to you first if you just give him time."

"I doubt it," Kyle muttered, barely loud enough for Stan to hear. His tail is snaking around his waist tightly. Tight enough he can feel it sting just a bit.

"Dude. Firstly, calm down," Stan said, Kyle glared at him. The ravenette simply gestured to the prehensile appendage squeezing the air from Kyle's lungs. He drops it, "Secondly, you're his best friend. If he's telling anyone it'll be you."

Kyle gave a hesitant nod, "Yeah, that makes sense."

Stan gave him a grin, comforting, grounding. He dropped down his feet and leaned over the table, holding out a hand. Kyle placed his atop Stan's, his hand was larger. Cyan tinted fingertips tapping along an open palm, "It's fine man, he'll tell us soon enough. It's not like he can keep a secret forever."

"No, you're right man. He can't keep a secret from us forever," Kyle said, a small grin on his face as Stan tightened his grip.

"Now stop stressing so much," Stan said, "Go get some calamari or whatever."

-/-/-/-

Kyle finds the next tape in a vent on top of Unplanned Parenthood while he's on a mission. He's quick to slide it into his pocket before Mysterion can notice. He can't just, jeopardize this discovery, he isn't even sure if he can call it a discovery if he's sure of what it is.

A shoulder collides with him and he stumbles just a bit. His arms are quick to push Mysterion right back up again. There's a crack down his lips and he looks to Kyle, "Get your head in the game, Kite!"

A blast of something or other comes straight at them and there's a brief second of hesitation before Mysterion is tossed out of the way and Kyle is ducking. The blonde is easily caught again and placed down, "Gladly," He takes Mysterion's hand, "Show me how?"

There's a smirk, bone chilling to many but it only makes Kyle's stomach flutter. Mysterion tightens his grip briefly, "Let's go then."

He's quick to launch Kyle forward with a running start, the alien tackling down whichever thug is on them now. Claws detract and tear through silver hued gloves as he snarls, easily dwarfing the goon. They're shaking as Kyle bares his fangs, tail thrashing about and body hunched in a predatory stance. Is he snarling? He is, he's proud of it too as he brings himself to be face to face.

He rears back on his knees, clawed hand raised and ready to slash. He goes to tear open their throat, but a grasp at the back of his collar prevents him. It short circuits him a little bit as the fabric of gloves press against cool skin.

"My friend here isn't exactly human," Mysterion said calmly as he released Kyle's costume. He stayed still and glanced up to Mysterion.

There's a shaky nod from the thug.

"Now, you have two options," Mysterion said. His tongue briefly slid between lips to capture the blood seeping from the crack. He circled around the dropped person a bit more, "Number one, you leave. You run to Canada, and never bother us again."

No response.

"Number two, Human Kite kills you. Right here," Mysterion snaps his fingers and as practiced Kyle gnashes his fangs with a growl, "Right now."

"I'll run! I'll leave!" The convict practically screamed.

"Fine, Kite?" Mysterion said. Claws come down atop the goons eye, deep enough to scar and maybe to go blind in one eye. Kyle stands up, red contrasting the cyan of his fingertips, he watches them run and revels in it.

Once they're far off, darting down staircases and running through the streets, does Mysterion take a seat. He drops down on the roof and Kyle takes a seat beside him, frilled tail wrapping around Mysterion's waist. A hand comes to push back the hood and he leans his head on Kyle's shoulder.

"Dude, being a hero is so sucky," Kenny said with a light laugh, "I just wanna get killed sometimes."

Kyle gives a hum.

"I just come back anyways, but we seriously haven't faced anyone actually dangerous in years," Kenny said, gesturing vaguely as he spoke to drive in the point.

"Definitely," Kyle said, Kenny dropped down onto his back. Kyle leans back to meet him in eye contact.

"I miss when this shit was fun," Kenny said, a sigh on his voice as he spoke.

"I think that most of us do," Kyle answered with. His tongue, forked, flickered out for a brief second.

"You're just like a snake man," Kenny said.

Cyan rose to Kyle's face, "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Like, your tongue. It looks like a snakes, forked," Kenny said, he did the spock thing with his hands as if to display forked. He stuck out his tongue at the same time, "It's really fucking cool. You got some scales right? And those weird little ridges on your back? All of those are snake-y things, Kyle."

"Yeah, cause I'm a freakish little dude," Kyle said extravagantly, as if to make his point he gave a set jazz hands, gloves off to expose to smallest bit of cyan webbing. He sticks out his tongue between too sharp teeth, "Absolutely monstrous."

"I'd hardly say 'little' is the word for you, ya six foot monster," Kenny taunted back, "And I love ya for that man."

Kyle barely beats down the intensifying flush on his face, "Well, won't stop me from being at least a little bit snake like. It's more fun to be a weird creature than a human anyways," He drops down and nudges Kenny's shoulder with his head until he sits up and nudges off the silvery cape. A hand rests in a tangle of red curls for a brief moment before the alien curls around Kenny's back.

"You're also very... Cat. Very feline. Very not human," Kenny said, words teasing but loving nonetheless.

He rested his hand on top of Kyle's head, gently sifting through a sea of red. He leaned back on his friends torso a little bit as he brought a second hand to run through Kyle's hair. He shifted around a bit to rest almost on his knees, facing Kyle just a bit more. His side pressed to Kyle's lower rib cage, his hands didn't leave the redheads hair for a second. He slid down his friends face just a bit, callused thumbs briefly brushing over the ever sensitive auricle fins he had. Were they fins? Not quite, just cyan flares at the base of pointed ears.

He let his fingers scritch just past the back of Kyle's ears, resting atop the buzzed patch of hair. Olive green eyes fluttered shut as Kenny just rubbed right there, the sweet spot. He slumps into Kenny's hands, chin resting at the heel of his palm (he can't see the gentle smile on Kenny's face).

The blonde nearly explodes when Kyle starts to purr. It starts soft, but it slowly grows, shaking Kenny down to his core with his side pressed against Kyle's diaphragm. Or his lungs. Or his whatever it is that makes that wonderful rumbling sound giving Kenny enough serotonin to live forever. He already will, but this is making that eternity sound a lot more bearable. Then he hears a thudding- three, soft thumps before it resets and happens again. His tail is wagging, Kyle really likes being scratched behind the ears apparently.

Kenny's pretty sure he's falling asleep with the pads of his finger, despite being rough and scratchy, gently rubbing behind his ears. He lifts his fingers for a second too long and Kyle opens up his eyes, "Why'd you stop?" He sounds groggy and disappointed, he stops purring.

Kenny picks up the motions, "You were falling asleep," He tosses his cape over Kyle's form.

Kyle lazily blinks, one eye, then the other. He shrugs the best he can, "And?"

"Good point," Kenny said on a hum as he twirls a finger through curls, a light tug.

Kyle's tail starts to thud again and he's sure the afterglow of this will never fade.

-/-/-/-

Kyle's feeling a little bit guilty about tuning into this tape.

Not nearly enough to make him stop though.

He drops down on his bed comfortably, he doesn't even bother to put in his earbuds. His parents are out for the weekend, his brother is at Kenny's to hang out with Karen, presumably fishing. He knows that he's bound to get a call from Ike sometime in the night for a ride, for Ike, Karen, and maybe even Kenny if it's really rough. But, he'll have enough time to listen to the entirety of it.

He presses play.

I think shits getting worse I'm not using these things properly I should be using these for literally anything else! I could talk about how much I worry about my sister, or my money problems, or whatever!

But I'm still using these tapes for just a few little things

Mostly talking about Kite Not gonna use his actual name this time cause someone heard me last week I'm pretty sure I ran them out of town For good

Do I feel bad about that?

Absolutely not

Gotta protect a mans privacy, even if that means blood and intimidation Which uh, I swear it didn't involve blood This time at least

Now, log number... nine? I'm pretty sure this is number nine I would go back and check 'em all out again, but I lost one of them No clue where the little fucker went But it's gone

Kyle pauses the tape. There's missing ones- he needs to find it before Kenny does. He can just put it back later, like he'll do with this one after he's done thoroughly listening to it. He put back the last one, slid it back into the hidden pocket and acted like it never happened.

Of course, since then he's always checked the hidden pocket whenever he got a chance to do so. But, he's been unlucky in terms of finding any up until this one which leaves him with the idea that the rest have been planted around town. He shuts off his rampant train of thought- he is not going to try and sleuth out all of the tapes. He still has some respect for Kenny's privacy, he still has some intention to keep their friendship intact, and most importantly, he still has full intention of never acting on any of what he hears in said tapes.

That would give away that he's been listening to them, a risk he can't take. He clicks the button again.

Look, I always knew Kite was a weird one Everyone does The guys alien, so we cut him some slack on human things that go mostly unspoken

Conversational subtext, call frequency, having beer on ice- simple shit

And in turn, we also try to learn a bit about his species culture I don't even know if species is the right word Does that make me racist? Are aliens even a race to be racist against? Could I even discriminate if only... Three, exist on earth?

So many questions, so little time

Of course, there isn't exactly a lot about his kind I doubt there's a lot of his kind His mom keeps making quips about how all of them would come to earth if it was easier to integrate But honestly? If you just got rid of the alien extremities I would not be able to tell that Kite isn't human

Same with his parents The lot of them blend in perfectly Don't know why she stresses so much And even if they didn't, they have a human to vouch for them A bunch of humans actually

There's a brief pause where Kyle let's himself think about that for a moment. He's never had a chance to think about it before. He doesn't really dwell on it for longer than a minute, flipping himself onto his stomach. His tail lazily sways back and forth as he listens/

I think I got off point there

Allow me to relocate and get back to what I was supposed to be talking about

. . .

There is a fucking line, Kite! You stay on your side of the line! You can't just walk over to my side! Just waltz on over like you own the fucking place! And just, act like it's no big deal! You just sit down right next to me. Like. Right next to me, are thighs are fucking pressed against each other and you lean into me! You just, push your head up against my shoulder like a fucking cat until I give you attention

Which I always do I'm weak

And then you start purring, and your tail does a dumb little wag! And I'm sitting there, begging and pleading, that I don't do something dumb You're putty in my fucking hands Asking me to just shower you in attention! I do, I always do- I always sit there and give you attention

Whatever it is you want I'd give it to you I'd do it for you Anything, for you

The voice softens just a bit, lowering itself. He sounded so very, very mad. Not even mad, just agitated. His voice is heady, wrapped into the narrative he's spinning so accurately. Kyle feels his stomach flip at the words droning so deeply into his skull. The notions made his skin tingle, heart pulsating so very fast he wouldn't be shocked if it exploded all at once.

But no! I stay on my side of the line Like a good boy

Because I don't wanna freak him out Or scare him off

I feel like such a fucking perv And I am a bit pervy I am fully aware of the fact that I am known to stare if someone fine is walking by

But.

To stare at Kite? To want Kite?

It definitely caught me off guard

And he isn't human He doesn't get it I touch him I feel like I'm dirtying him Even if it's just a high five! I have too much on mind for this shit

I see that idiot and you know what I wanna to do?

Do you even wanna to know what I want do to him?

Kyle slams the pause button, he can feel his nerves shoot up in shock. His tail has went from lazily thumping back and forth to wagging like that of a dogs. The minute ridges on his back are shaking, just a bit. He may be mildly cold-blooded, but right now he really can't tell.

He looks down at his hands and they're entirely cyan, normally just a little bit at the tips. The hue shoots up his forearms. He can practically hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest, the sound bangs back and forth in his skull.

Oh.

Oh he's opened up a massive can of worms with this tape.

He keeps listening

I'd just

I would-

Fuck man I can't even say it out loud I don't know what I was thinking!

I'm sitting on top of city hall and I was about to go off about how I'd fuck him!

Could I even fuck him? Are the species compatible? Do aliens even have reproductive organs?

They must They totally do How else do they, how do they reproduce? Eggs?

. . . Nasty

But I would fucking worship him I would do whatever he asked me too Even if he's too unversed in human reproduction to ask me too fuck him up I'd still do what he asks me too

You wanna go out at that new pizza place that charges by the minute? Let's go darling

You wanna go check out the newest arcade cabinet? Baby, the cars already running

You want me to get your logo as a tramp stamp? I might not do that one actually . That's a lie I'd do anything for him

. . .

God, I'm such a mess I need real therapy

Kyle has long since buried his face in a pillow to muffle his screams (although they're closer to high pitched squeals) and cover his ears. He feels like he's running a fever, a really, really bad fever. Every square inch of his body is on fire and he can't care much that he's clawing into his pillow, downy soft feathers spilling from gouges.

He's drawing a blank.

A complete and utter blank.

He hears the click signalling it's over and he feels his stomach twist in regret.

It's a lot easier to hide that you know something if said something isn't... that, whole thing that just happened. His ears are ringing a little bit as the words ping around the sides of his head, like a game of Pong. The pillow is still keeping his face covered as he rolls onto his back, then his side, then his front, and his side again, knees pressed flush against the wall. Fuck, he feels like he's sixteen all over again, and that was just three years ago! He's too young to be having moments like this.

He mechanizes his breathing, eyes wide open as he stares at the darkness of the space themed pillow case in front of him. Sheer darkness with the occasional blip of a lighter hue. His tail is still thrashing, whipping back and forth madly, he's sure it would scuff the wall if it hit it.

He has to come down from his safe space eventually. Even if that safe space is merely a pillow pressed to his face.

He tosses aside the pillow and rolls onto his back and just stares at the ceiling.

His entire existence has officially been flipped on it's head.

He hears his cell phone ring and he reaches for it, answering before even checking whose calling. He gives a cracked, "Hello?"

"Dude are you good? You sound like you've just been crying," Came Kenny's voice, concern laid on thick.

Kyle nearly hangs upon the spot but instead he bites his tongue and doesn't say a word.

"Look man, dads being a bit of an ass, and Ike was wondering if you could come pick him up for the umpteenth time," Kenny said. He gave a hum, "Could Karen tag along?"

"Totally man," Kyle answered with as he sat up, trying so hard to still his tail. It swiped back and forth atop the blankets, he felt a little bit wrong about not telling Kenny what he knew right now. But, this is a bad time to do that, any Kyle can lie his way out of it again. He hesitates before adding, "You need an escape too?"

"It'd be nice, but you already sound tired. Did I catch you at a bad time? Were you perhaps 'jacking it', my fine, alien friend?" Kenny asked tauntingly, his smugness was palatable.

Kyle wished he could just say 'yeah' and move on instead of carefully think over his next words. Life would much simpler if his head didn't catch on the usage of 'fine' in referral to himself. His mouth felt dry but he choked out some words anyways. "Dude, what makes you think I even have a dick? I got that weird ass alien biology, don't I?""

There's a laugh on the other side, "Hey man, not all of my shots are gonna be spot on. But really, if you don't want me over I won't come," There's an tenderness to his voice and the contrast to the almost gritty and desperate tone he had on the tape gives Kyle whiplash.

"You can if you want too, but I'll probably pass out pretty fast," Kyle lied. He'd just lay in bed, wide awake, for potentially hours with Kenny on the floor beside him. That's how it usually went at least.

"Going full on feral like you did earlier takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" Kenny asked.

Silence.

"Silent treatment, did I strike a nerve bud? Regardless, we'll be out front in ten," Kenny said, "I can make you some hot coco if you'd like."

"That'd be nice," Was Kyle's weak response.

-/-/-/-

The night was a lot more tense than either of them wanted it to be.

They usually shared a hug before actually getting into bed and trying to pass out. And if not that then Kyle would subtly demand some time to just, co-exist, in very close proximity to each other. In even more minimal situations, they would just share some words of 'love you bro' and call it a night.

None of that transpired.

"I can just go home man," Kenny offered at the break of two AM.

Kyle rolled over to the edge of his bed, leaning over it just a bit, "It's fine."

"Is something wrong? Cause like, you've just been acting... off, lately," Kenny said gently as he propped himself on his elbows, both resting on his pillow.

"Nothings wrong," Kyle said, he crossed his arms and rested his chin on them, "I am gonna ask my parents some questions when they get back."

"About what?" Kenny asked quietly, as though he were afraid of shattering the night if he spoke too loud. The navy walls cast deep blue across the room, reflecting the moonlight in a comfortable darkness.

Kyle stayed silent.

"Alien stuff?" Kenny asked.

Kyle nodded, "Yeah, alien stuff."

"Fun," Kenny answered with a scoff. He dropped back down again and turned to face Kyle, Kyle's bed frame at least, "But for real, you're just- somethings going on in your head. I can tell."

Kyle shrugged, "It's stupid."

"I won't judge man, you're my best friend," Kenny said. And he said it in such a way that for a brief second Kyle forgot about the tapes entirely.

"How are you supposed to talk to someone about something you don't want too?" Kyle asked, trying to withhold and give equal amounts of information.

Kenny paused, "Work out the words in your head. Practice once or twice, maybe even record it. Figure out what needs to be reworked. Write it out if you must- just get it out of your head."

Kyle nodded.

"Trust me man, the second it's out of your head and off your shoulders, life will be easier," Kenny explained reassuringly, "Even if it's only for a second or two."

"Thanks bro," Kyle said quietly.

"Least I can do," Kenny said.

There's a beat of hesitance, "Love you man."

"Love you too," And then Kenny turns away from him, tugging the blanket up to his shoulders.

-/-/-/-

Kyle's pretty sure that Kenny is onto him at this rate, but, he tries to ignore the terrible slithering sensation that he's been caught.

He just focuses on whatever comes next.

This time it's none other than The Coon himself deciding he needs to bring something up with Kyle. Silence drenches the room in the worst way possible as he sits across from the hybrid. Furred ears are swiveled to face Kyle and it makes him feel impossibly nervous, he knows that Cartman can hear his heartbeat. Can it hear pick up speed when Stan sits down beside him, even more so when Wendy joins.

And then Clyde, Timothy, Jimmy- all on one side of Cartman.

Tweek and Craig sit down on the side with Wendy and Stan, Scott as well.

"We know you figured it out, Kyle," Cartman said calmly, tone frigid in a way that makes Kyle feel paralyzed. The hybrid clasps his hands together in front of himself on the table.

"Figured what out?" Kyle snaps back with, trying his hardest to muster the usual snarkiness he has around Cartman. Bute he fails, miserably at that. He just sounds pathetic, grasping at straws if nothing else.

"Don't play dumb," Wendy said, she sounded sharp. She may be tough as nails, and normally Kyle respects that, admires it even, but when it's directed towards him? He gets why people run from Call Girl.

"Why in the cosmos should I tell the likes of you?" Kyle answered with, feebly trying to defend Kenny's privacy.

A privacy that he had already thoroughly breached and ravaged, alongside the unspoken trust they had. He had wrecked it, ruined it, destroyed it- but he could salvage it from the fact Kenny didn't know that Kyle knew.

"You can trust us, Kyle. We're your best friends," Clyde said. And he was right, he was so right.

Kyle's tail snaked itself around the chair leg, "Really guys, I don't know what you're talking about-"

"His secret, Kyle," Cartman said, "Tell us."

"I," He hesitated, "I can't."

"You've already fucked up your relationship with him enough, Kyle. I got Wendy to do a deep dive on your species, and of the few things she could find, she discovered this," Cartman said. He raised a folder, an awful beige and orange hue, and slid it over to Kyle.

The alien hesitantly took it. It was three pages thick, presumably doubled sided. He opened it and skimmed through the headings, he knew every single trait in and out. He paused at the highlighted one, "You're joking."

"This is serious man," Stan said, "We wouldn't just accuse you of imprinting of Kenny without any basis."

"That's stupid. He's my best friend. That's all, that's our dynamic- the kind of dynamic that rakes in loads of cash," Kyle defended with, hoping that pressing on Cartman's one pressure point would make him let up. He slammed the folder shut and slid it back, "Even if I did imprint on him, it would ruin the franchise and never be reciprocated."

"Then tell us what the secret is, you have nothing to lose, no? Just a friend, they come and go on earth," Cartman said. He was calling Kyle's bluff, did he even realize it? He probably did, or if he didn't, he'd snoop until he did.

"Ask Professor Chaos instead, he knows more," Kyle said, trying so, so hard to deflect. The tension pooling everywhere under his skin was agonizing. He needed an out so bad, he needed an escape so, so fucking bad.

Cartman scoffs, "Already done, he said he was sworn to some oath of secrecy, sent us to you."

Kyle stays silent, forcing eye contact with the sleaze in front of the him. The trash eater himself, scraping tactics from the bottom of the barrel.

"Just tell us, no harm will come from it," Cartman said sternly.

"It'll destroy my friendship with Kenny," Kyle snarled out.

"No new harm will come from it, we all know the damage has been done my friend, it's just yet to be discovered," Cartman said, words cutting into Kyle like a knife.

He bites his tongue, Cartman's right, "Give me a week to collect more information on the subject, then I'll report back with the news."

There's a smug and satisfied grin on Cartman's face as he leans back, "See? That wasn't so hard, was now?"

Kyle stands up and pushes away from the table, "I'm going."

"Don't forget about your patrol with Mysterion tomorrow evening, Kite!" Cartman calls out, head leaned back on his chairs backrest.

Kyle's tail is swaying angrily, "Fuck off."

His fangs are grinding against each other as he storms off, if it weren't for the fact he was in suit he would punt the closest chihuahua like a football. Or do something else just as dumb. Maybe kick a fire hydrant and hope it doesn't dent, or punch a tree. Something to make the tense feeling uncoil, to let himself just relax for one second.

He doesn't deserve that though.

He's been uprooting the very foundations of his friendship with Kenny, all because of some morbid curiosity. And Kenny doesn't even fucking know. Kyle is just getting away with it cause he's being awfully slick with how careful he is to put everything back exactly where he found it.

The worst part is how long it's taken for him to feel genuine guilt about it if nothing else. He's such a fucking snake, biting onto his relationship with Kenny and refusing to let go. Sinking fangs deeper and deeper, searching for more even though it's cannibalizing itself. And the first taste is all that it takes to get someone hooked, shame that the thing he got a taste of was metaphorical guts. Kenny just hasn't realized he's stuck in this ouroboros of a relationship.

Despite that, a really twisted and messed up part of him persists in wondering when he'll find the next tape.

-/-/-/-

He finds the next tape almost a week after the interrogation.

Although, we're using the term 'find' rather loosely here. Instead it sort of, fell directly into his lap. And despite knowing better and not wanting to go any further, he still held onto it and didn't let go.

"Thanks for washing my gear man," Kenny said as he stood at the door, Kyle held the bundle of purple fabrics in hand.

He gave a smile, as convincing as he could manage, "No problem man, least I can do."

"See ya tomorrow bro," Kenny said before pivoting on a heel to leave which struck Kyle as odd. The blonde usually loitered for a little bit, chatted casually about whatevers on his head. But none of that came today.

Still, Kyle closed the door and walked down to the luandry room before shaking out the purple. There was that clatter, plastic against unfinished flooring, it was just concrete at the moment. He tossed in the clothing and flipped on the spin cycle with a bit of lavender scented soap. He slid down the front of the washing machine and stared at the tape.

He shouldn't.

He really shouldn't.

He does.

He grips the tape and slams it into the player and hits the play button before he can further question his actions.

I know you're hearing this, Kyle I don't know how long you've been listening to my diary for But it's you It has to be you

Kyle swears his heart stops dead in its tracks. He barely registers that the grit Kenny forces when he's acting out Mysterion has disappeared. That this is just Kenny now.

Who else would be messing with my tapes They're never just right when you put them back You leave scuff marks on the plastic I can fingerprint things, Kyle

I planted this one And log number twelve The rest though? I don't know how many of those you've heard

I'll admit I never meant for number three to fall into your hands I just thought you'd be kind enough to not listen in

. . . How wrong I was

And it's a real shame too You better not have told the rest of the team, Kyle I will make you regret every single breath you've taken if you have

But, that's only if I can get that intel from the gang Do be warned that Cartman is very easy to persuade It won't take me much longer than ten minutes to make him crack

The rest will go even faster Although, I'd give Wendy much longer Craig? He'll be shattering in seven minutes, tops Tweek? Three, maybe four Stan? He trusts me more than you'd expect, he won't even fight

I hope I was right about you being smart, Kyle

Kyle's blood turns to ice.

He is so fucked.

At least he didn't tell Cartman.

You already know my big secret And you have two options, Kyle

Option one: Meet me at Starks Pond tonight to confirm how you feel about the contents of these logs. I'm probably sitting there right now

Option two: Don't. This horrible relationship limbo can remain just like this, on my end I've been stuck here for years

Look, Kyle, what you've done here You're forcing my hand I don't have any other options

Do what you want

I clearly can't stop you

The tape is flung from the cassette player to the other side of the room, it hits the wall and cracks. A thousand regrets pool in the pit of Kyle's stomach and he wants to vomit. He also wants to curl up in a ball and die. Or live in Cartman's basement instead, those are all good options.

But in the same breath...

He's being given a choice when he was sure this whole thing he had with Kenny would simply implode, collapse in on itself and die. He has one chance to make this better than it is. He'll never be able to make this right, but, he can at least try and reinforce the breaking pieces before it's entirely broken.

He picks himself up off the ground and starts on his way up the stairs. He freezes at the door, is he gonna do this? Is he gonna go out to Starks Pond and talk like he should've far too long ago?

Yeah, yeah he fucking is.

The real question is if he's actually gonna say whats been fueling his co-dependency with Kenny for so long.

He isn't sure if he'll manage to fess up to the stupidest biological function he has. He'll try, he'll make an attempt to explain exactly what's been conspiring inside of his head without him even realizing for so many years. He'll at the very least get out a couple words to explain the dumbest thing he's been roped into by his own genetics and unfortunate timing.

-/-/-/-

The ever-present snow and ice crunches under Kyle's boots, but that's the last thing he's focusing on. His eyes are trained ahead of hi as he walks along the edge of Starks Pond. His tail is still, a very rare occurrence.

When he reaches the edge of the pond that Kenny's standing at he's lost his words. The blonde is just staring at him, looking for tells. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his orange jacket, bright orange, pumpkin orange. Kyle can't focus on anything.

"It worked, you nosy little shit," Kenny said, words weaponized with ease.

"Yeah, it worked," Kyle said. He took a step closer, "I'm sorry," and then another, "For everything really," A third step and Kenny tenses, flinching back just a bit. In turn Kyle steps back.

"For what? Did you tell them?" Kenny asked defensively. He sounded scared more than anything else.

"I know better than that Kenny, they did interrogate me though," Kyle explained stiffly.

Kenny gives a hum, "That gets that problem out of the way."

Kyle nods, "Yeah, that it does."

"So, you listened to three, nine, twelve, and seven, right?" Kenny asked.

"Sorry," Kyle said.

"At least have the decency to dignify me with an answer man, you just fucking ruined me. I had to record that final tape five times before it was good enough to use. I swear to god, normally I'd cut you some slack and now you know why, but not this time," Kenny spat sharply, "So, you listened to those tapes, right?"

"Yep, the four that you listed," Kyle said, his attempt to stay professional just made him sound stiff and disjointed.

This time Kenny faltered before speaking, "And your opinions on them?"

"Positive," Kyle answered with faster than a bullet. His tail flicked as he spoke.

"Anything else?" Kenny asked, desperation heavy on his voice. Thick like molasses.

"I think I imprinted on you- which means something different then it does for the ducks!" Kyle was quick to backtrack on his words, Kenny just looked intrigued, "My species has a 'thats the one' instinct. If we find the right person, it activates, and according to my parents at least, it's usually subliminal. When we landed, I imprinted on you- so, to me, you're the one. And for all I know, unless you die and stay dead, that stupid ass hormonal flux won't go down."

Kenny stayed silent.

"I'm stuck fixating on you until one of us dies, my kind mates for life, and unless I submit myself to experimental science the animal part of my brain is gonna keep screaming that you're mine. Which is kind of annoying, and dumb, and gets in the way- and I didn't even realize it until I found that first tape. I've just been infatuated with you since grade four and I don't know how to make it stop," Kyle spilled, some words meshing together in a blend of syllables. Cyan progressively rose to his face the entire time he spoke. He dropped down to the ground, facing away from Kenny and towards the water, "I'm so fucking sorry Kenny."

Kenny took a few tentative steps closer to where Kyle sat, his tail lay curled around him yet limp on the ground. His ears were drooping a bit and he looked ashamed of himself, a little bit distraught at that. "I'm not gonna disown you, Kyle. That'd just be fucking stupid."

"I didn't mean to ruin your life man, you could've been scoring. God, I probably scared off so many people without even realizing it," Kyle choked out weakly. He pressed his nails into the heel of his palm, "I swear I didn't mean to imprint on you. I swear man- I can try and suppress it."

"It's fine, Kyle," Kenny said as he crouched down beside Kyle. He bumped their shoulders together.

No response.

Okay, that was worrying. It struck a particular chord in the depths of Kenny's chest. One very, very similar to the 'my sister is hurt' chord, which unlocks a specific subset of reactions. Those reactions include:

A: Unbridled violence on whoever caused this B: Giving tried and true advice C: Terrible jokes and playful punches D: Just listening with or without a glass of warm milk

None of those options seem optimal, so Kenny improvises.

"I mean, the whole 'imprint' thing doesn't bother me," Kenny said as he sat down behind Kyle. His knees were bent and he rested his head on Kyle's shoulder.

"Dude I fucking ruined your life," Kyle got out quietly, his tail snapped to punctuate his sentence. It wrapped itself around Kenny's thigh, just above his knee.

"Beg to differ," Kenny said as he slowly raised his hands up. He gently placed them at the base of Kyle's skull, he tensed but didn't move. Kenny slowly rubbed circles in just behind Kyle's ears in the hopes it would calm him down.

Kyle leaned back into Kenny a bit, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Half of those tapes were me going off about how much I adore you and want you, Kyle. I know you have a brain in there, put it to some use," Kenny said, a small grin on his face as he spoke. He could feel Kyle start to purr, "Just think about it."

Kyle paused for a moment, to just let all of the data sink in. He felt like a total idiot when the conclusion formed in his head, "Oh."

"Yeah," Kenny answered with, "Good thing."

"I'm such a fucking idiot," Kyle said with a laugh on his voice. He squeezed a bit tighter around Kenny's leg, constricting, like a snake, "Can't wait to confirm my families suspicions."

"Do they think we're a thing?" Kenny asked as he combed his fingers through Kyle's hair.

Kyle nodded, "Probably, apparently I've been signalling some very, very vulgar and subtle things to you with my tail for the past six years. I didn't even notice my tail was moving half the time, but it was- mom and dad had to explain that to me which was fun."

"Did you stop?" Kenny asked.

"Naw, definitely not," Kyle answered with smugly, "You never knew anyways."

Kenny gives a hum, "I would say I was giving some vulgar signs myself, but humans don't have a good way to do that discretely."

"I've noticed," Kyle said, "I can read half of you like books with all the tells each of you have."

"Guess Ill have to be even more mysterious so the guys don't catch on," Kenny said as Kyle started to purr, the vibrations rapidly picking up in volume. It felt nice.

"They aren't idiots dude," Kyle said, "They'll catch on soon enough."

"Or we could just walk in there holding hands one day, wait for someone to point it out and go 'yeah we're dating now' and just act like nothing has changed," Kenny said, "Even if we don't go to the movies or eat out at restaurants- that'd be funny."

"We'll see what happens first," Kyle answered with. He holds his breath for a beat, "Love you, Kenny," There's a veritable depth to the words now.

"Love you, Kyle," Kenny answered with the same as he always has, Kyle just never noticed the subtext. He presses a brief kiss to Kyle's forehead.

-/-/-/-

Stan is the first one too notice that Kyle and Kenny are different. A good different though. They're more synced up on the field, better at silent communication, just predicting each other in general. It definitely benefits the team as a whole for the crime-fighting, but whether or not the development is good for the franchise is a whole other story.

He's the first one to ask around about it too.

"Hey Wendy, Kyle and Kenny-"

"Are acting off? I noticed," Wendy said, cutting Stan short with ease. She glanced up from her phone, "I'm already scouring about for details."

"Anything actually come up?" Stan asked.

Wendy shook her head, "Nope, you'd assume that there'd be something; but most searches are coming up dry."

"Worth a shot," Stan said with a sigh.

"You should go ask Craig, he's pretty close to Kenny," Wendy offered up and before she could finish her sentence Stan was looking for Craig.

He was sitting at his desk as usual, cruddy costume and all.

"Craig whats up with Kyle and Kenny?" Stan asked.

And without skipping a beat Craig answered with, "They're homosexuals, Stan."

"What?" Came Stan's dead response, words hollow and in disbelief.

Craig nodded to the aforementioned duo walking in, "Go ask why they're holding hands."

Stan faltered.

"Listen, if you're afraid I'm right you should've asked out Kyle sooner to avoid it," Craig blatantly accused, the words forced the air from Stan's lungs like a sucker punch.

Now aware that Craig is going to keep mentally gut punching him, Stan just heads on off to Kyle and Kenny. They are indeed holding hands, and Kyle's tail is wrapped around Kenny's thigh, just above his knee.

"Look, you two," Stan began with.

"Yeah man, what's up?" Kyle asked, and he's hiding a grin poorly. He's sure that it adds to the confusion Stan is displaying.

Kenny was right.

This is pretty fucking funny.

"How come you guys are holding hands?" Stan asked quietly.

"Kyle imprinted on me," Kenny said bluntly, "We're dating now."

"How long has this been going on for?" Stan asked.

Kyle shrugged, "A month, we were waiting for you guys to notice."

Craig gives a smug, "Told you so!" from his desk.

"Were you guys betting on what was happening?" Kenny asked, an undertone of a snicker to his voice.

"No, even if we did Craig would've won," Stan said spitefully.

Kyle grins a bit, "No need to be sour man, you can still break the news to Cartman, I'm sure it'll be hysterical to see his reaction."

"Dude. Let's go find Cartman," Kenny said eagerly, he was practically vibrating where he stood. Hes grinning that gap tooth grin, "I need to see his reaction right now."

"Wanna tag along?" Kyle asked, holding out a hand to Stan.

He refrained from taking it, "Totally man."

Craig sidles up beside the three of them, "I got a camera to record it."

#south park #south park k2 #sp k2 #south park fanfiction #south park fic #kysterion #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #tw mild gore #tw swearing #tw betrayal #as you all know i was once again staring at artwork by kennysdeadbody. as i usually do writing K2. specifically those kitenny doodles.#kite is really just a creature. big ol' cat. he purrs.#kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #stan marsh #small headcanon that craigs gaydar is off the motherfucking shits (also wanted to let him say faggot(I didnt))

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