#yes I’m absolutely overthinking it but when you put something like this in the world building/lore can you blame me? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunny-likes-pokemon · 7 months

Text

Performance

Serena is planning her next performance and is completely stuck. Can her friends help her get out of her own head?

AO3 • ff.net

I absolutely love Showcases. They felt like actual dance competitions to me as someone who danced competitively in high school and college. As a performer myself, I related so much to those girls giving their all and improving their routines over their season, the costume troubles, the fun rivals, the weird ones who took everything way too seriously and weren’t fun at all. I’ll be honest, that’s probably why I like the Kalos adventure so much! It was very relevant to my life at the time.

I’ve read criticisms that the routines were “the same every time” and "boring" and I just want to be like—do you have eyes?? Can’t you see the gradual progression??? The growth of personal character and skill???? The changes that make such a big difference, culminating in a final performance reminiscent of and yet entirely evolved from the start????? Bah.

So this piece is dedicated to little me, full of anxiety but dancing her heart out anyways.

Serena sat with her head in her hands, thinking as hard as she could.

She’d gotten notes from the performance judges after her last showcase, but how in the world was she supposed to incorporate them?

One note had said her routine needed more ‘dimensionality,’ that she needed to use all the space available on the stage, including vertically, for the best effect. Another had said the rhythm of the transition during the bridge of the song needed to be improved.

And, most confusing of all, one note said that she was ‘overthinking’ her routine.

“What does that even mean?!” she screeched, burying her hands in her hair.

The Pokémon gathered nearby to eat lunch startled, Frogadier jumping to his feet with hands raised, Braixen whipping out her branch and looking for enemies.

“Serena?” called Bonnie from the campsite where she was watching Clemont make lunch. “Are you okay?” Ash, who had been watching the Pokémon, and Clemont, busy with cooking, looked at her as well, concern obvious on their faces.

“Oh, yes, just fine!” she called back, embarrassed that everyone witnessed her outburst. She had to leave, just for a bit, and pull herself together. “I’m just going to take a quick walk.” And she stood in a hurry and quickly walked away.

“Stupid, stupid,” she muttered, then took a deep breath. “Okay. One at a time. Timing.”

That just needed more training, right? The more she and her Pokémon worked together, the more in sync they’d be. They would have to practice every day, then practice until they couldn’t mess up. Then they’d be perfectly on beat.

“Okay, next. Dimensionality.”

She closed her eyes and imagined she was looking at the stage from the audience, but frowned and stomped her foot when she started mixing up directions in her head. “I need to see it,” she said, marching back to the camp.

“Clemont!” she shouted when she got close, still marching.

The inventor jumped and nearly dropped his ladle into the soup. “Y-yes?”

“Did you record my performance?” He hadn’t mentioned anything beforehand, but sometimes he did things like that to be prepared for ‘a situation precisely like this one!’

“Y-yes?”

She nodded and put her hands on her hips. “I need to see it. I need to see what those judges were talking about.”

“I’ll watch the soup, Clemont,” Ash said, standing up and taking the ladle.

The inventor was so startled that he didn’t even try to show her a ‘Performance Improver Prediction Machine’ or something. He just dug around until he found a tablet, loaded up the video, then handed it to her.

She sat down on the ground and started the video, studying it intently.

“Um, Serena?” Bonnie asked.

“Yes, what is it?” she asked, not looking up. There was the starting move from Braixen. Hm, maybe they could use Ancient Power to push it higher? No, that would change the shape of it too much. Could Braixen learn to increase her range?

“Don't you want to sit at the table…?”

Serena hummed absently and nodded. Pancham’s acrobatics were impressive close up, but diminished at a distance. How could he gain altitude? How far could he jump straight up?

“Notebook, notebook,” she muttered, reaching for her backpack. She didn’t find anything and realized she didn’t have it on.

“Here,” Ash said, handing her her bag.

Serena dug through the bag for a notebook and pencil, then started taking notes.

“How to visualize…?” she muttered, then started sketching out the ‘beats’ of the performance, the big moments she really wanted to linger on, as they currently were, then below that, how she could change them to make them more dynamic.

They had three minutes to perform, starting from the moment their music started, which was a few seconds after they took their starting poses on stage.

They had to keep the performance escalating through that whole three minutes, starting off interesting and keeping it that way before a finishing move that would be memorable—popular vote deciding the competition meant she had to stick out in some way.

“Serena, the soup’s getting cold,” Clemont said from nearby.

She hummed and nodded, then squeaked when someone plucked the pencil and notebook from her hands. “Hey!”

Ash didn’t look impressed. “Seriously, you need to eat. I’ll give them back when you’re done.”

She pouted and pushed herself up, dusting herself off and stomping to the table to sit. There was a bowl of soup waiting there for her, as well as some fruit in the middle to share and her water bottle.

She quickly shoveled the food into her mouth, grabbing her water bottle and a piece of fruit before standing up.

“Okay, done! Give them back!”

Ash did, his eyes wide. He gestured at his face. “Um, you’ve got some soup…”

But she had already gone, heading over to the shade of one of the big trees around the campsite and settling down. She had to figure this out.

—

Ash stood there, staring at Serena as she plopped herself down on the ground again.

“That…was Serena, right?” Bonnie said, scooting behind Ash and holding Dedenne close as if to keep him safe. “She didn’t get possessed or…or body-swapped?”

Clemont shrugged. “I guess she must be really excited about working on her routine.” He started to clean up from lunch and Ash quickly shook off his confusion and helped.

Usually, Serena was the last of them to finish eating, taking her time and talking and laughing, and she always helped clean up.

Ash had hoped to move further that day, closer to his next gym, but Serena didn’t seem to realize anything else was going on, focused entirely on rewatching her performance and taking notes. The day dragged on and on, and Ash eventually had to admit they wouldnt be going any further. “I guess we’re camping here tonight,” he told the others, who looked over at Serena with concern. Camping here was okay with him. It wasn’t like gym battles were on a set schedule like showcases were (even if he did want to get there as soon as possible). He, like Clemont and Bonnie, was kind of worried about Serena, though.

They set up their tents, the boys helping Bonnie with the girls’ tent, then got ready for bed. Some nights they all played a card game or something before going to sleep, but as one-fourth of their group was so frantically occupied, none of them were really feeling it. So Ash said his final ‘good night’ to his Pokémon and returned them to their Pokéballs to rest (except for Pikachu, who had already snuggled up in his sleeping bag). Then he put his hands on his hips and frowned at Serena, still scribbling away. At least she was sitting at the table now.

“Serena,” he said, walking over to her, “it’s time for bed.”

“Just gotta…figure this…” she mumbled.

He sighed. He understood. He did. And he’d had friends have this problem, before, too—hyper-focusing on planning it ‘just right’ and not taking breaks when needed, not doing what they’d planned.

So he sat across from her and drummed his fingers on the table until she looked up at him, blinking, her eyes bloodshot.

“Ash?” she asked, her voice a bit rough. “What’s up?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You. It’s bedtime.”

She scoffed. “No, it’s barely even…” She seemed to notice the dark of the sky then, how Ash was in his pajamas and the others already gone to sleep. “Oh. I guess it is.” She bit her lip and looked down at her notes. “But…but I need to…”

Ash sighed and propped his head up on his hand. It looked like a little more help was needed. “What are you struggling with?” She blinked at him in confusion and he waved at her notes. “I’ve had friends compete in things like this before. I have, too, but just for fun.” He scratched his cheek. “Maybe it won’t be the best help, but I’ll help you.”

Serena smiled at him, her shoulders finally relaxing. “Really?” He nodded, preparing himself for a long night. Then Serena yawned, covering it with her hand and then blinking slowly. “Oh, wow, I’m tired. Um, would you be okay to help me tomorrow?”

A bit relieved, he nodded again. “Absolutely.”

He stayed up while Serena got ready for bed, not wanting to leave her alone in case she decided she wanted to work some more. She did go right to bed, though, waving goodnight to him before joining Bonnie in the girls’ tent.

The next day, Serena seemed to be back to her usual self, helping Clemont with breakfast and making Bonnie laugh with a story about her and Rhyhorn when she was very little. They got back in the road, and then Serena came up to him.

“Um, are you still okay to help me?” she asked.

He pumped his fist. “Of course! What do you need?”

She brought out her notebook, but paused and chewed on her lip. “When you said you competed in something like performances, what did you mean?”

So he explained contests to her, how the trainer was called a coordinator and specifically showed off Pokémon moves and the health of the Pokémon themselves, and then battled another Coordinator in a flashy way. Also, all scores were all decided by judges and not the audience.

“Interesting,” she said softly, tapping her lips with her pencil. “So they don’t do routines?”

Ash frowned. “Well, I mean, kind of, but they’re much shorter and not set to a specific song. Not very many moves, either. Sometimes just one! They also don’t do the same routine, but come up with new ones each time. They weren’t as…it’s like…ah, buddy, what am I not explaining right?”

Pikachu crossed his tiny arms as he thought, then jumped off his shoulder and got into a ready stance, nodding at him. Ash laughed. “Alright, a demonstration it is!” He closed his eyes, remembering the moves he’d used before and what he’d learned since then. Then he shrugged and called out, “Okay, Pikachu, Electro Ball, straight up!” Once it was in the air, he called, “Thunderbolt at it, then smash them both with Iron Tail!” What resulted was an explosion of sparks and energy, and a very charged-up Pikachu.

“Pika!!” Pikachu cried, eyes wide and grin wider.

“Wow!!” Bonnie cheered, running up to them. “That was so cool, Pikachu!!” Dedenne cheered as well, scampering around Pikachu.

Ash laughed at his little electric mouse, all fluffed up and sparking like a very hyper puff-ball. “Pikachu, Thunderbolt to get rid of all that static!” He looked back at Serena as Pikachu fired off a bolt into the sky and shrugged again. “Sorry, contests weren’t my thing. We probably would have gotten points off for all that static build up making Pikachu look silly. Some contests wouldn’t have allowed three moves. And there would have been a bit more planning, but that sort of thing.”

She tilted her head. “So, a coordinator just calls out a couple moves that their Pokémon practiced? They don’t all perform together?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Coordinators kinda just stand there. They usually have nice outfits, but it wasn’t a requirement.”

She hummed and thought for a moment. “Well, I guess it’s not my part I have questions about.” Then she opened her notebook and showed Ash the drawings she’d made of a stage, tiny figures in various poses with move effects surrounding them. “One of the judges said I needed to use the vertical space more, so I was trying to think of different ways to get everyone’s moves to go farther.” She sighed. “I don’t know if you can train for that, though.”

“Well, you could have them launch themselves off of Pancham’s Stone Edge and then use their moves to get themselves higher into the air,” he said. “They both could do that, right? And then they could do something flashy while they’re up there.”

“Hm, yeah,” she said, turning to a new page and scribbling a few words there. “Maybe Braixen could blast herself up…”

Ash nodded, trying to think of cool moves he’d seen in his various battles. They continued to talk, throwing out ideas of different ways to add to or change Serena’s routine. Once Bonnie figured out what they were doing, she joined in, although she quickly got distracted imagining how Dedenne could perform. (And then Clemont joined in, too, when Bonnie seemed to think Dedenne could learn Flying Type moves.)

They didn’t make it to a Pokémon Center that day, so they found another spot to camp for the night. Serena seemed much more relaxed, actually joining them for dinner and helping set up camp.

It was only after Bonnie and Clemont had both gone to sleep (Clemont had made a new invention which had exploded spectacularly and then said he was going to bed early) that Ash realized Serena was bent over her notebook again at the table, scribbling away.

He sighed. He’d hoped their planning session would have relaxed her. He was kind of tired…would it be better to let Serena figure out how bad an idea it was to stay up late on her own? Would she even notice, though?

And then he heard a little sniff and saw Serena rub one eye, then a few more sniffs as she rubbed her arm across her face. She was crying?!

He grabbed his handkerchief from his bag and hurried over to her, sitting beside her and holding out the square of cloth.

“Thanks,” she said in a rough, quiet voice. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” She kept crying. She used the handkerchief to muffle the few sobs that tried to get through.

Ash frowned, trying to think of something to do or say. He shouldn’t just let her cry, right? When he got upset, he stormed off and brooded for a while. Except when he was at home, where his mom wouldn’t let him mope—she’d drag him into making dinner with her or playing a video game or watching a rerun of his favorite Pokémon battles until his problems didn’t seem so big. And if he was really upset, she’d sit with him and hug him until he felt better. There wasn’t exactly a kitchen, game system, or TV around, though, so he couldn’t do those things for Serena (he also didn’t know if she liked video games, and she probably would want to watch something other than battle reruns). He could hug her, though. So he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her.

She squeaked and went very rigid. “A-Ash?!”

“It’s okay,” he said, patting her back and trying to remember what his mom had said to him in these situations. “It’s going to be okay.”

She slumped against him. “Why can’t I think of anything on my own?” she whispered. “I can’t just use your ideas all the time. Why…?”

Oh. Well, that made sense. “You’re thinking too hard about it.”

A groan was her response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you thought about anything else these past couple days?”

“I mean…no, not really.” Then she straightened and narrowed her eyes at him. “And hard to believe you’re telling me that, Mr. Battle-Every-Trainer-That-Makes-Eye-Contact.”

He shrugged. “I know this stuff. Sometimes I use what I know.” Then he frowned. “I don’t battle every trainer.”

“But you want to.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong . “We’re getting off track. You can’t just think about one thing all the time. You’ll paralyze yourself. Do lots of things, think about lots of things.” He sighed and looked around at their little campsite. “That’s one of the reasons I like traveling with people. I get too caught up in my own head otherwise.”

She snorted lightly. “You? Really?”

He smiled wanly. “Yeah, I’m…not the best on my own.”

She had been smiling as if expecting a joke, but it faded as she seemed to realize he was serious. “But you always come off as so confident and mature…”

Ash barked out a laugh, genuinely surprised. “Really?” He didn’t feel any different than he had when he first set off on his journey years ago, and he knew he’d been a brat back then, all big dreams and desperation to prove he had what it took to be a good trainer. Then again, he’d learned so much since then, met so many people and seen so many things, traveled all around the planet and had more adventures than any kid could ask for. It would have been stranger if he hadn’t changed at least a little bit. “If I’m so wise and mature, then you should listen to me and go to sleep. Sleep isn’t something you can miss and still function normally.”

Rolling her eyes, Serena closed her notebook. “Fine, fine.” She went to stand up, but paused and then sat down again, a small frown on her face as she looked at the handkerchief in her hand.

“…Serena?”

Her eyes met his briefly, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled, bright as could be, and held the square of cloth out to him. When he went to grab it, she put her hand over his, her gaze practically burning into his. “You’re incredible. You’ll reach your dreams and go even further beyond them. I know you will.”

Before he could say anything, she walked away and off to her tent. He didn’t move for a while, just sitting there, confused as could be.

But…it made him really happy that she believed in him. She’d been traveling with him long enough to see the kind of guy he was, and apparently she still thought he could reach his dreams, no matter how big.

He believed in her, too. Once she stopped worrying so much and found her groove again, he had no doubt she’d go on to be the best performer Kalos had ever seen. He couldn’t wait to see it!

#amourshipping #satosere #my writing

24 notes · View notes

reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 1 year

Note

I’m just stopping by in your inbox to say thank you! As you could see already I really like your posts and thoughts about …well everything honestly😅 I wish I knew English better to feel more comfortable to develop the conversations you are holding here. You are saying all truth about fandom and members. Damn this fandom ….made me feel insane over the years. Like when majority of people start pressuring you to have certain approved by company (lol) or just masses’ opinions. It’d have been easier if I didn’t felt related to them back then, when I only started to listen to bts. It’s so silly I know but you find people with the same taste and interests (more or less) and you think “oh that’s my people” until they are not and you start basically self-censoring yourself. But arguing with them is even worse, especially on twitter. I’m an artist and I have a lot of inspiration from Jimin and Jungkook but it’s frightening me to even open fan artist page in social media to start to post them…The army or jikook fans sphere isn’t welcoming to me anymore. I don’t know if it would feel more fun or stressful. But I just know that I can’t hold myself and when I would see some stupid comment I would openly troll them not nicely or just response back very harshly so I would end up in report accs in a second. Lol😅 One comment about not streaming much from army or delusional shit from jikookers and here I’m telling them to shut up or flare up just laughing “yeah t*ekook f*cking dating in love and now what’s the issue”. All fan artists are so calm and especially big ones are just avoiding all of these and stay silent. I don’t think I’m capable of it. I’m too bitter and quick-tempered and if I have some real life issues and then I would see something absolutely ridiculous in my lil escape from reality time aka fandom..uuuff better someone to hold me back. How do you do it almost daily? I’m too young and inexperienced. To have artist account is like to have brand with your nick(name), and even fan artist seems to behave “professionally” in fandom spaces really taking that as their job or something. And if you won’t bend under these unspoken rules you would have no engagement or too much negativity … so that’s why I keep all drawings to myself only. Help🤣🤣🤣 yeah maybe I’m overthinking but fandom made me feel about them like this, they are driving me crazy. Anyway I just wanted to add to conversation how old time fans feel in this fandom and how you are fresh educated 🧐 air in all of this craziness.

Hello, @moon-under-sunshine. I see you frequently in my notes. Don't worry about your English, you're doing just fine and you can engage more if that's something you would like.

As to your dilemma, I do have some thoughts. You may not like it or agree with, but you came to me so I'll tell you how I see it.

I don't think fandom quarreling should stop you from posting your art. Especially if that's your passion and you want to share it with the world. It's doable and your concerns can be solved if you divide your space accordingly. Make a twitter account which is solely focused on the art you make, use it for eventual commissions if that opportunity arises and keep it simple. You attribute to it one purpose only and it doesn't need to contain your fandom thoughts. You can make a different account for that or even use another platform, like tumblr. I know fanartists seem really professional and not involved in any drama from an outside perspective. But a lot can happen behind the scenes. Don't put anyone on a pedestal, especially when it's just a username.

Not agreeing with army or jikookers is your business and no one is stopping you from sharing your thoughts. But you have to be honest about what do you want to get out if it. Do you just like to rile people up or you're open to conversation? Do you want to be honest or just a troll? What good does trolling do? Offer some sort of satisfaction which is short lived? Yes, it's annoying to read all that about having to stream or maybe some shipping theories are a bit too much or actually ludicrous, but trolling is creating conflict without taking the responsibility for your words. If wanting to express your disagreements with what others are saying is something you want to do, then you should do it in a more mature way. The best solution would of course be to just write the stuff on your own blog. Go bananas. Create your space, you'll have people agreeing and disagreeing with you, but that's the nature of social media. Yeah, it helps create echo chambers because there's less and less interaction between bloggers, but if that interaction does not have a lucrative outcome and it's based solely on trolling, then perhaps it's better to not exist at all.

You asked me how I do it daily. We have different lives so each method one has, it produces a different outcome. If something pisses me off at work, I don't bring that here. And what happens here on my blog doesn't transfer to my overall mood in day to day life. I can keep it separately and also because I don't get actually angry enough to the point of being affected by what the fandom is doing, by what messages I receive and so on. Because as much as I enjoy what I'm doing here, it's but a small fraction of my life and when I put the phone down, it disappears. Participating and talking about the fandom is not that deep for me. It doesn't represent me completely. I don't make it my purpose to prove daily if two guys are together and I certainly don't need to make my entire online identity about telling that the two guys aren't fucking. Same about army, bts or any other topic. If you can't find a bit of joy in all this that makes it worthwile, then there's no point.

You said you're young and inexperienced and that real life issues affect the way you behave online. It's good that you're honest and you're aware of that. You can't change it over night and perhaps with age, you'll see things differently. You don't have to take my advice, but I don't know, maybe channeling your short temper into something else might help. Or make one of those private accounts on twitter and just "scream" into the void and write your most outrageous thoughts you have about the fandom. But remember, it's just that. An online fandom, full of strangers typing on their phone and each has their baggage. But we can choose how we want to behave and what we want from this experience. If posting your art and wanting to get it out there is important, you can find a way to do it.

#bmt asks #bts fandom #bts fandom behavior

15 notes · View notes

taegularities · 1 year

Note

hi Rid, this is the mafia anon hehe 🥹 i had a busy weekend, but i’ve finally had time to catch up with CMI and i- 😔 let’s just say i trust the process, every story should have a bit of good ol’ angst, so i am here for it! i understand JK’s pov, but i feel like he’s kinda forcing himself to do what (in his opinion) is right, like, it’s his head, not heart. i’m rooting for them so much 🥺

about what anon said, i personally love your style of writing ❤️ and i feel like it actually says a lot about being a great writer, to have your own style. i’ve always enjoyed long chapters, because - in case you’re not focusing on a particular part of someone’s life, like smut for example - it’s impossible to deliver a wholesome story and for me it’s hard to become invested in the story as well. your scenarios are always so well told, every background, every character description, they make your stories complete ❤️ and about the CMI/royal au votes, i might be not objective because they are both about JK hehe, but! sometimes when i work too long on something, even if it’s something i like, it becomes tiring and i do it just for the sake of finishing it. it’s good to take a break to put your energy into smth different ❤️

and yes, i read hell is empty! JK is another level hot in it 🥵🥵 but now that you’ve mentioned late night devil… 👀 looking forward to it, angry and mean male lead is what i live for 🫠

UUH, i’m so sorry for this long ass message 😅 to end it on a lighter note, i found the perfect visualisation of me being bias wrecked by Jungkook 🥵 enjoy! and have a great week Rid 🫶🏼 https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMY1XFTp7/

MAFIA ANON HI !!! i think i'm gonna go with this name 🥺

ah babe, you're 100% right. he's absolutely forcing himself to do smth that he thinks is right, though it might be even more damaging. he just doesn't realise it. but i still understand where he's coming from.. it's the overthinking :((

and yes, yes, i agree, i do also think every writer has their own writing style. i enjoy oneshots a lot, and there are quite a few that are some of my favourite fics, but i know what you mean – it's easier to feel attached to a character when the story's long. and i overthink my writing a lot, so it means the world to me that you like my writing style and everything that a scenario contains <3 about your vote – yeeeppp, i actually am still so damn excited for cmi7, but so am i for royal jk... and since cmi6 was so emotionally loaded, it'd be definitely a great alternative to work on the e2l. but i'll see !! whatever calls for me louder. thank you for saying that, love 🤍

hehehe late night devil is a very old wip and i've no clue when i'll drop it. but pissed jk really does it for me.. the jaw clench and all ugh. never apologise for long messages btw, my god, i LOVE reading through them so much 😭 what i don't love is hOW MUCH THIS TIKTOK RUINED ME LMAO I'M SERIOUS WHEN I SAY IT LITERALLY MADE ME GASP AND TOOK MY BREATH AWAY. smhhh, mafia, why. but yes, i hope you're having a great week, too 😭🤍

#i LOVE this song and the video had me full on GASPING :')#btw guys thank you so much for the trust y'all have in me ?!?!? makes my heart go boom 😭#notes for rid 🌹#mafia anon 🔪#fic: colour me in

5 notes · View notes

scoups4lyfe · 2 years

Note

Say Gentaro Kisaragi is mindcontrolled and he hurt a lot of people while under mindcontrol... how does he react upon snapping out of mindcontrol?

Lmao I have surprisingly thought about this a lot.

Gentaro is someone super loving and forgiving, even if they, I don’t know — say, muRdeReD him.

(Lmao)

The moment he got alived again, he literally went to find his murderer and said, “wow <333 I know you so much better now.” Which is a whole thing

But I think it’s interesting how very little he thinks about himself. Others are always placed as more important. They hurt him? Insult him? That’s okay because he is going to befriend The SH*T out of them no matter what >:)).

Every single one of the actions Gentaro takes are impulsive to a degree, but always a selfless one. He loves people. He wants to help people. He wants to make them happy. So what would happen if he were the one to cause the pain?

Oh, the agnst would be beautiful my friends.

The amount of care he’s placed on other people (before himself), means that if he were the one to have hurt them, essentially I think it would put him in a state of shock.

He would be horrified.

That trust he has so keenly in himself and his actions would be the first to disappear. He would have the thought “what if I hurt them” constantly twisting inside of him. Building and building.

I absolutely love how wholesome Fourze is as a show, but as a writer —- if Fourze were to ever be remade, I think putting that focus on Gentaro and his altruism and the conflict or pain his actions could cause — mind controlled or not, would be a very interesting theme to explore.

We see similar things being explored right now through Ikki and Momoi. Gentaro would fall somewhere within the middle. (And I think a character exploration as to why he thinks or acts like this would also be something I would hope a re-write would address and it’s fascinating actually. The fact that Gentaro chooses to wear and style himself like a Punk, a Rebel (TM) and yet why?

People can wear whatever aesthetics they want. But there’s always a reason, subconscious or not. A punk aesthetic is one of the aesthetics I would say is chosen as like a shield.

“I am agaisnt this world so this world can’t hurt me.”

But, Gentaro isn’t someone I’d describe as “against the world”, he’s more than for it. So why does he dress and style himself that way, is he modeling himself after a mentor he looked up to? Is it a shield he wears so that even when he’s attacked or hurt he can think ‘I’m fine. I’m okay. This world cannot affect me (negatively).’

His psychology would be something fun to explore. Now, if you say: “Naw, he’s just naturally forgiving and—“

Listen.

All actions a human takes. Every reaction. Is based on something.

No one (take this with a grain of salt, but most of the average population is what I’m taking about.) is “naturally forgiving” and selfless. That’s a learned trait. What’s the first trait you see in toddlers? The idea of possession.

“This is MINE.”

That ALWAYS comes before the action of sharing. (There might be outliers yes, but 99% of the everyday population is like this, so the outliers AREN’T the point.)

So Gentaro’s selflessness has to have come from somewhere.

Anyways, back to the hypothetical question (lol), but I 100% believe him hurting others (not at all of his own volition) is something that would break him.

He’d lose his trust in himself. He’d start to doubt his actions, he’d start to overthink.

“What if this ends up hurting someone? What if I hurt someone again?”

It would terrify him. With his emotional turmoil conflicting how he normally appears with friends, I don’t doubt that he would mask it. He would smile like everything is fine, when he can’t even sleep at night because every time he does he’ll have nightmares from that Day. That time where he hurt people.

Originally when he first snaps out —he can’t think, only react. He sees people hurt, he would go up and try to help them, in shock and not at all thinking yet ‘I caused this’.

But then they shrink back from him in fear, and that makes him pause. Hesitate.

And then the thoughts come, they start processing, and he can’t be here, he can’t be around these people that he’s hurt. So he leaves, he backs away, he isolates himself, and then Everything Hits.

#nothing like some strife to build character #I watched Fourze a few years ago so #don’t fully remember everything #there was a flashback episode to like a mentor right? or am I trippin?#no lie if I was the writer my ideal Gentaro would be a foster kid #one that’s been tossed around homes a lot #which is how he ends up at the new school #(tho I know Japan doesn’t quite have a foster care system right?)#could get the same thing from relatives that don’t want him or whatever #so he models himself as this selfless character wanting to make friends with everyone #because he so desperately wants acceptance and love #and he wears a punk aesthetic bc he’s so emotionally vulnerable #anyways. in this essay I will—#my thougts #kronthescoup #kamen rider fourze #asks #gentaro kisaragi #gen anon #anons

9 notes · View notes

world-of-fire-and-flight · 2 years

Text

Mirth's Ebenezer: Part 9

A/N: Our favorite love triangle is baaack (more or less)! I’m a little stuck on this ngl, but it’s coming together…I just don’t know where the whole “someone’s betraying the agency” plot went. Maybe Mirth’ll find it again😝

Warnings: …implied nudity because Mirth takes a shower. Slight anxiety, hypothetical situations, worry, overthinking, and gun reference.

My Masterlist | Mirth’s Ebenezer series | Taglist Info

Buzz.

Mirth groaned. Without even cracking her eyes open, she unraveled herself from the warm cocoon of her blankets and flipped over. Stretching, she blindly reached for her cellphone buzzing on the faraway nightstand. Wrapping her fingers around the cool metal of her phone, Mirth blinked her eyes open and tried to force the bleariness from her version.

Supes.

Sighing heavily, she tapped the answer option and put the phone to her ear, falling back onto her pillow. “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?” Superhero snickered.

“No…” Mirth yawned, “I’ve been awake for…” she trailed off, twisting around to catch sight of the alarm clock. The red glow of the clock read 12:43 pm. “…hours.”

Silence.

“Riight…” Superhero drawled. “I just wanted to check in and let you know that Baron and I are both alive, and well, and unscathed, and that the safe house is actually pretty nice. There’s three bedrooms and a full kitchen, and honestly I might try and get the Agency to lease it out to me once this is all over.”

Mirth laughed. “Beats your apartment then?”

“If it wasn’t for Baron, absolutely,” they huffed.

Mirth rolled over onto her back and draped her arm over her forehead. At one point or another, she’d have to scrape the will together to drag herself out of bed and down the stairs for breakfast.

“Supes,” she started, “it’s been what, twelve hours? It really can’t be that bad.”

Superhero scoffed. “I mean, when you put it like that—”

“IS THAT MIRTH?” Baron’s voice sounded in the background of the call, followed by Superhero hushing him and then the firm thud of a door pulling closed.

“I swear, it’s like I can’t get a moment’s peace. First, he had to play with the thermostat, then he had to set up all of his streaming accounts, and then it was a two-hour rant about the Wi-Fi connection out here,” Superhero ranted. “I don’t mean to rush you and I know I said to take all the time you need, but please, I’m begging you, come and suffer with me?”

Mirth’s lips pulled into a grin. “You did tell me to take all the time I needed…”

She could feel the tingle of apprehension that struck her friend in the silence that followed. Sitting up in bed, Mirth bit her lip, waiting for Superhero to say something, anything, even if it was only to throw some snark at her.

“I did…” Superhero said slowly, hesitation in their voice. “We’ll manage for a few more days, but after that my grab-bag is gonna be empty and Baron doesn’t have much here either. The Agency provided some things and some basic necessities in the kitchen to keep us for a bit, but we’ll have to figure something out for supplies and clothes then.”

Mirth hummed, tossing the covers aside and standing at last. Stretching she said, “I’ll take the ride out there today—”

“YOU WILL?!” Superhero said excitedly.

“Yes,” Mirth rolled her eyes, walking downstairs and yearning for her first cup of coffee. “Do you want me to grab anything before I head over?”

“Uh,” Superhero paused.

The coffeemaker whirred and gurgled as Mirth grabbed her favorite mug from the drainboard.

“Could you grab some stuff from my apartment? I’ll text you a list and check in with Whitmire about grabbing some of Baron’s things. I don’t know if they’ve dissolved his operation yet, so it may be a while before we can do that.”

Mirth nodded, taking a sip of freshly brewed coffee. “Okay, sure. Anything else?”

“Migraine medicine?” Superhero asked.

“Oh, stop it,” Mirth sighed, “The day you get a migraine is the day the world is ending.”

Superhero chuckled. “Touché.”

“I’ll be over in a few hours.”

“A few hours?” Superhero sputtered, “It only takes two to get here at most.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘take all the time you need,’” Mirth mimicked, “and Baron agreed. So I’m going to pamper myself before heading out because I spent the last two months held against my will by Whitmire’s squirrely and just ways, so excuse me for enjoying my freedom before shackling myself to you two idiots for the next three years.”

“…that’s fair…” Superhero conceded. Mirth took another sip of her coffee to stop the triumphant retort begging to leap from her tongue. “I’ll call Whitmire and see about Baron’s stuff and the progress they’ve made dissolving his villainous enterprise.”

“‘Kay. I’m gonna eat some breakfast and get some things done around my apartment before heading out.”

“I thought you’ve been up for hours.” Mirth could hear Superhero’s trademark smirk in their teasing tone.

“Sorry, you’re breaking up, gotta run!” She hung up before they could get the last word in. Setting her cell down on the quartz countertop, she glanced across her living room and out into the bright light of the afternoon. Outside, the electronic billboards scrolled between advertisements for art museums and musicals, for new products she couldn’t care less about and everything in-between.

Mirth wrapped her arms around herself. The quiet of her apartment was joined by the hustle and bustle of the city street below. It was a faint symphony that she’d missed. It wasn’t that Superhero’s apartment was in a quiet neighborhood, but it was quiet. Tucked away in the outskirts of the city, their apartment was bigger, and probably cheaper, but it didn’t have the same cozy feeling that her apartment had.

It didn’t have the exposed brick or the loft with its industrial banisters or the wood beams running along the ceiling. It didn’t have her charm or the touches of a life lived there.

No matter how much Mirth knew she had a job to do and that she needed to do it, if not because of the goodness in her heart then at least to support her oldest friend, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her apartment again. She supposed her and Superhero would have to work out a schedule today too.

Trepidation flooded her gut.

Why had she agreed to this?

Shaking her head, Mirth trudged back up the stairs. Pressing the switch for her automatic curtains, the oversized windows dwarfing the exterior wall of her apartment drew shut with the subtle hum of mechanics.

She promised not to take too long in getting ready for the day, but the moment the warm spray from her shower hit her, her entire body sighed. One night hadn’t been enough time to reconcile her Rogue Trial and the events that had unfolded during Baron’s.

And if Supervillain was involved with the leak within the Agency…were any of them really safe? What if they already knew where Baron was, that he’d let the cat out of the bag and that the entire Agency was looking into the mole now? What would Supervillain do to get even with Baron?

And more importantly, would she and Superhero get caught up in that vendetta?

Shutting the shower off with a frown, Mirth inhaled the steam lightly scented with her cinnamon sugar body wash. She’d have to bring all that up with Superhero today too, especially since Whitmire and Agent had mentioned using Baron to help flush out Supervillain’s informant.

That tidbit made her realize just how much work this house arrest gig was going to be. She could handle an investigation. She could handle community service and making Baron served his.

But the two of them combined? House arrest plus community service and an investigation involving Supervillain?

It was enough to send chills of anxiety pooling in her gut.

Quickly drying off and Mirth debated whether she should wear civilian clothes or her supersuit. It’s not like the public didn’t know her as ‘Mirth’ or that she hadn’t gone shopping in her uniform before, it was just…taxing.

Deciding to play it safe, she slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, shoving her mask in her pocket and her suit in a duffle bag. Grabbing whatever else she could think off and shoving it in her bag, Mirth overlooked her apartment in the dim light of her floor lamp and the few lights she’d flicked on downstairs.

It was going to be a long three years. Whether or not Baron and Superhero could get along was the least of her worries as her mind turned over the prospect of who the mole was and what Supervillain would do when it inevitably got back to them that the Agency knew.

Before Mirth could talk herself out of it, she dug through her closet until she could haul her safe from the back of its depths. Inputting the code and letting the safe open with a clank, she pulled the Agency-issued handgun from within and a couple magazines. Sliding her conceal-carry holster onto her waistband, Mirth untucked her shirt and let it hang loosely around her hips. The extra magazines she strapped to her ankle with another holster that hadn’t been broken in yet.

Her lips pressed into a grim line, Mirth shook her head, overly conscious of the holster digging into the skin of her stomach and the Velcro itching her ankle. But at least she wouldn’t wholly be dependent on her powers, especially if she got caught in her civilian clothes.

Just in case, she told herself. Just in case, she’d be ready for anything.

Taglist: @feline17ff, @selene-stories, @violetcancerian

Part 10

#heroes and villains #writeblr #hero and villain community #my writing #hero x villain #the love triangle is stronger than the plot #Mirth's Ebenezer series #Mirth's Ebenezer

5 notes · View notes

cybermeep · 2 months

Text

i have an odd urge to speak a lot today. because of this, i’ve thought of a few different questions and what my answers would be to them. yes this is a little silly. i am separating this just so it doesn’t absolutely destroy someones timeline somewhere. read if you want

“what is your personal philosophy?”

ah, this is… a jarring one to start off with. nonetheless, i think its good to discuss! my personal philosophy is one not really falling under any blatant ones i know off the top of my head like nihilism or absurdism. although i agree with certain absurdism concepts, i like to sort of.. branch out. the following will be what i personally think, i guess;

i like to believe everything has meaning. every small microscopic organism, to the empire state building, to a small amount of chicken wire. everything has some beauty to it. even if it doesn’t have some which is blatant, everything has a sort of creative aspect of itself which is fascinating. i also like to believe things generally have a purpose. if something doesn’t have one which blossoms at the beginning, then a reason may appear in the future. who knows. i personally (someones name popped up when i typed that…? odd.) like to see everything in the world as being worth something, somewhere, somehow. i like to believe the world around me has the capacity to both be nice and hopelessly cruel. i believe everyone deserves the basic right to exist, even if i don’t necessarily agree with what they may believe. i like to think everyone deserves to be happy and live a comfortable life… of course, this comes off as a very kind of ‘peace’ narrative. you can’t always have peace; i know that. sometimes you have to fight to be happy, fight to live. its jarring, and i wish people didn’t have to do that; i wish we as people didn’t have to fight to be happy, that we were all allowed it from the get go. sadly that isn’t always the case. this might be a very odd answer so thats uh.. my bad. i just like the world around me although i realize its quite shitty. i most certainly have the capacity to be aware of many other human faults, but i like trying to put faith into things. if i can, anyway.

“do you consider yourself a good person?”

…haha, i should know better than to ask myself these questions. i think i’m asking the ones i wish i would get and simultaneously dread because they make me think and make me uncomfortable.

i.. don’t really consider myself anything. i don’t think of myself as good, nor do i consider myself.. bad. good and bad are feeble words we as humans use to try and put others into categories of being. i know this because i too have labeled others as good, although it doesn’t really do much besides surround a person with some loose narrative of what they may be like. i tend to flesh out when i say others are good people, however; i note their kind natures or kind actions and cite those as things which make them good in the sense they’re helpful and uplifting people to be around.

i… am…. Um. i.. don’t know. others say im a good person, but i wouldn’t label myself as quote good. that feels weirdly egotistical.

“what would you describe yourself as, if not good?”

just general things i do, i suppose. i consider myself someone who overthinks about many things, is abnormally sensitive, and is rather outgoing in the sense i like to help others. i guess im kind, but just because someone is kind doesn’t necessarily mean they’re a good person… i’m just, like, existent. i’m nothing special, truly. i don’t think i ever will be something special, just kind of mediocre, and im fine with that

“do you consider yourself a lover or a hater?”

lover, indefinitely. this is ironic, considering i for the almost entirety of my life thought love was sort of just something people made up, but it’s accurate. i seem to forget you can love things but not love them in a romantic sense. im just so blatantly used to the romantic love that general love is sometimes less apparent in my mind. i’ve been getting better at recognizing the general kind of love people feel..

by used to the romantic love, i mean more so in media. as mentioned above, i thought for a good chunk of my life romantic love was just.. fake. not real. embellished, false. i thought it was some weird social normality which i was never in on; i felt like an outcast to the whole idea. when i realized it was an actual thing, i remember having an existential crisis over it.

anyway, yeah, lover all the way. i hate very little people and hate very little things. i guess with that in mind..

“why are you so forgiving?”

man, a question i ask myself every single day. asked myself, from myself. god this post is probably weird to read.

ummm, lets see… i had to be emotionally mature at a young age, and because of that i seem to be a bit more mature than others in my age range when it comes to social miscommunications and whatnot. i also have realized it takes an immense amount of energy out of me whenever i think about events for an extended period of time. when i feel something emotionally, i feel it. it hits like a tidal wave. as you could possibly tell from any of my ramblings, i tend to be obsessive over very small things. and compulsive. and uh.. well.. i mean, its both a genetics result and simultaneously from upbringing that i seem to have these tendencies. its jarring to admit, but its true.

i think i also am a bit rational when it comes to these things.. but simultaneously not? unsure. what i think is that im not like.. petty. others around me have seemingly held the anger/distain i likely should, but i haven’t held much of it myself. i’m not the kind of person to insult others because of simple personal happenings. i don’t talk of others with distain even when i have every right to. i talk about others neutrally and almost matter-of-factly. if thats a word. not even, though; i mean, i talk neutrally, yes, but i also am not blindsided by emotions either. if some Guy clocks me in the face and is an amazing musician, i’m still gonna be honest and say he’s an amazing musician. its not because I’ve forgotten he’s clocked me in the face, not at all, but because i want to be honest with what im saying. someone can do something flawed and still have good parts to them; one action doesn’t define who someone is. people change & all that jazz

“why are you so honest?”

uh.. i guess because i hate lying to others. it makes me uncomfortable; like im putting up a façade. i like being my true self and saying whats on my mind; i also like being literal. although metaphors and allusions are always fun, i also wish to be direct with things which are important to me or in general are best said directly. being quietly uncomfortable and laughing nervously doesn’t get a point across; if someones being a dick, i’m gonna say that to them. vice versa, if someone is being extremely nice & or friendly, i’m going to tell them that and let them know! its just the way i prefer to function.

with honesty in mind, i guess its also worth saying i don’t like saying things i don’t necessarily mean. it makes me uncomfortable. if i tell you something/give a compliment, then i probably mean it. i don’t just ask or say things for no reason… good example of this is uh, i don’t know, asking if a friend needs anything. i mean, i mean it; if they need something ill try and get it. same with asking if an acquaintance needs anything. if i didn’t want to ask, i wouldn’t. if i didn’t want to do something, i probably wouldn’t do it; im very direct in that regard

“are you still afraid of not being your own person?”

…yes.

ive gotten better at being more, shall we say, level-headed, but its definitely a fear of mine. i forgot if a sentence im thinking of was actually said or simply internalization of what someone else said. either way, it fucked with me; made me think i was just a puppet on someone elses strings. i was petrified of this, as ive been trying what is essentially throughout my entire life to be my own person, be ‘myself’. learning i apparently wasn’t this was like a slap in the face. no, was a slap in the face. i still am reeling from it, as you can probably tell, but i believe my best way of thinking is this;

inevitably, everyone is affected by someone. you get affected by your guardians, friends, peers. you make friends with those with similar interests, or gain interests from being introduced to them. thats simply how human relations work. thats fine, thats normal. inevitably, nobody is a quote clean slate. i am not the same person i was before i met savanna, because her being in my life changed the way i functioned. people change people, is what im saying.

yet, despite this, you still have free reign of what you choose to do. i on my own volition go out of my way to do things which are pleasing to me. i may like the same movie you do, but you and i are separate entities. different people. we aren’t carbon copies of one another, as no human is really meant to be so. everyone is meant to be themselves in whatever sense of the word.

..although i still understand why it was a fear, because i can sometimes feel a compulsion to look into things others enjoy as almost a prerequisite to being a friend. i tend to be afraid being myself is simply not enough for others, as i don’t see what i necessarily bring to the table that someone else cannot. i feel as if im easily replaceable, even with others telling me i am not. i think ive been getting better at looking into things solely because i want to, but sometimes i still feel worried im not being enough of a friend, i guess

this is… augh, very emotionally vulnerable. hey at least i did something for like an hour. i might go to bed early

#cybers tangents #probably important if someone wanted to analyze my psyche

0 notes

unluckilyimnot · 2 years

Note

Helloo!! Could you possibly write a part 2 to your rindou angst marriage fanfic u wrote? You could write about slowburn,angst,fluff,however you want to continue with it! I just wanna hear more of your thoughts abt it cuz it's been my fave fic these days and i keep reading it every time i need some inspiration 👉👈

Hiiii I can absolutely do that (even if i took forever to do so) I'm really happy to see that you thought that much about it and hope it's not to late haha Thank you sm !

type: slow burn (ig), fluff

Words count: 4.7k || Pt.1 || Pt.3

note: I can’t count the number of mental breakdown I got bc of this. I never ever wrote slow burn and then suddenly I’m doing one with an awful base, great idea Mia. Anyway, here’s my first slow burn (if it can be considered as one), hope it’s not too bad for the time it took.

I would really appreciate feedback back for this one so feel free to comment or send a message, thank you !

Rindou was thinking a lot since the last time you two argued. It wasn't the first time for you to take care of him like this, but neither of you ever speak your heart like this and he has to admit that his mind didn't want to let it go. The way your hand was so gentle towards him, patting his cheek as if he was still a kid. It's been a long time since you did that and, this time, he could remember your touch on his skin without hating it. It's been what, one or two weeks now ? He couldn't understand why he wasn't getting over it yet. It was poisoning his brain. Overthinking the whole situation like he never did before. Was it because he was too angry to face it before ? Or just to try to know you ? This was messing with his mind and he doesn't like it at all. It never was important, you never were, so why now he was thinking about how dirty he did you ? That was pure nonsense. Just like you.

"Rindou are you listening?" Ran's voice rises and Rindou lifts his head. "Yes, I am," answers Rindou but his lost eyes show that, in fact, he wasn't at all. Shaking this whole situation out of his mind for the next few hours. He was worried that this would take too much space when he had to work but at the same time, he couldn't find a way to resolve it. So he'll ignore it til the end of the day or Ran would kill him if he has to call him out one more time.

Ran obviously noticed how his brother's behavior changed since that night but he just couldn't figure out what happened since Rindou doesn't talk to him about it. Which he finds weird in the first place because they usually talk about everything together. He was curious to know what was happening to his brother. As the two of them go on their meeting, someone suddenly comes inside after a firm knock. The two Haitani were sending daggers to them for this audacity but cut it out when they saw a pretty woman enter the room.

Leaving for work this afternoon, you noticed a pile of files on the kitchen's table as you passed by to take something to eat on the way. Seeing your last name on it, you assumed that it was Rindou’s files and that he forgot it this morning. You knew you didn’t have the right to take a look at all, it was confident stuff most of the time, so you simply grabbed it and decided to pass by the Bonten’s building before going to your own after putting some sweets in your bag. Driving to the place, it almost seems like a normal company you said to yourself as you stop in front of it. It must be insane for someone outside of this world you guess. But yes, for people like you, it has always been normal to carry top secret papers and a gun in your bag while playing innocent. Entering the building as if it was yours, you were surprised to see two guys coming to you and asking for your matter. You don't come around a lot but still, you weren't anybody either. But you can't know everyone, right ? So you let it go and smiled at them.

"I'm bringing papers to my husband, he forgot those this morning," you said with a little smile, trying to be nice as you showed them in your hands.

"I've never seen you around with anyone though..." Imply one of the men, making you quirk. Not coming around everyday doesn't mean that you're lying. You don't have to do so just because of your previous last name in fact. You never needed to be a Haitani to be respected. You sigh as they didn't let you pass even after reading the name on the files.

"Don't make me call him, he won't answer anyway," you explain. Rolling your eyes, you push them aside softly to go on anyway. One of them roughly catches your arm and tries to get you out. A fragile sigh leaves your lips, your cool was more than down and you didn't have the time for this bullshit. Being late is one of the things you hated the most in life and being taken for an idiot too. The thought of killing him right away crossed your mind and the gaze you sent to this poor man made shivers go down his spine in terror when he catches your eyes. "Don't touch me," you instructed, not feeling like playing the sweet wife anymore.

"Oh Miss Haitani, it's been a while since the last time you came," says a young lady passing by with a smile. Her voice calms you down immediately and the man lets you go for the sake of his dear life. She was new the last time you came and you guided her through the building because she couldn't find an office. She was such a kind memory to this place you don’t necessarily appreciate that she calms your nerves. At her words, the two men finally let you live and you go on to the elevator to find Rindou.

Clenching your jaw as the door closes, thinking that a simple lady working here has more value than your words drives you mad. You'll talk to him about it, if you can ever see him. Leaning on the wall as you were alone in the cage, you thought that maybe you wouldn't even have to see him today. Your strict expression falls for a second, replaced with a morose one. You hoped you could, you didn't see each other often after all, but you're always happy to speak with him. Even if it's fighting or just a hello, it warms up your heart. He was right, you're stupid to love him, but hope make you live right ? So you'll continue till it kills you. The doors open in front of you, taking you out of your thoughts before you straighten up when people come in. Going down to the right floor, you walked to the room Rindou is usually in with his brother. As you were about to knock when someone stopped you again and this time you didn't take any of it. You knock and open anyway, a blank expression to contain your anger.

Rindou was surprised. He never expected you there and almost never saw you when you were ready to work. You stand out immediately from anyone in this room, black and red outfits flattering your skin. For the first time in his life, he finds you pretty. Your prideful gait and straight face flutter him a bit as you lay his papers on the desk.

"You forgot this," you simply said as you looked him in the eyes, not waiting for anything but a kind of fondness in it. He answered a little thank you, not shutting your gaze and he had to blink a few times before he could. Leaning his gaze on the other men around the table, their looks on you slightly irritate him. Do men usually look at you that way ? He never expected it. Maybe because he never saw you like a woman but mainly like a kid stealing his freedom. You were in fact a beautiful woman, he had to admit it. You nod and turn around to leave and go take care of your own business. Everyone followed you as you stepped back out of the room. Looking at him one last time, you showed the man next to the door.

"And tell your men about me please, the next one who touches me is dead," you add firmly before definitely passing the door without a goodbye. You weren't a kid anymore and Rindou started to realize it only now. Ran looked at his brother's stun reaction as you left, thinking about what must have happened for him to react like this. Looking through the papers, Rindou realized he actually needed it later on for this meeting and should have been more thankful. But that can’t stay on his mind for too long, immediately coming back to work because it needs to be done and resolved by the end of the day or Kokonoi would kill them. He was thankful, but you still weren't that important. A message would be fine.

By the end of the day, as you were still at work, your phone lights up, showing his name on the screen. You opened it, surprised to receive a text from him because it rarely happened during your three years relationship. It was a simple thank you, nothing less or more, but it made you blush like a high-school girl. Making you think that it was really helpful and worth it to stop by before coming here and proceed to go back to work so you could come home soon.

“Say Rindou,” Sanzu doesn’t even have finished his sentence that Rindou wanted to quit it. He doesn’t feel like talking or arguing with him today. His nerves were nothing to play with right now, tiredness showing in his eyes. Last night’s mission was longer than expected and he just wanted to cool down with someone to fill his mind. Forget everything for a while. Glaring at the pink-haired boy, Rindou really wished this would be enough for him to shut up but the only answer he got was a mischievous smile.

“I saw your girl the other day,” the world he used made Rindou hiss. You’re not his girl, you’ve never been and would never be. He despises the fact that Sanzu keeps on calling you like this.

“She’s freaking hot, I don’t understand why you bother to find some girls here and there when you have this at home,” joked the guy while resting on the back of his seat with a smirk.

“Shut up,” spited Rindou, shutting Sanzu’s month only for him to smile, amused.

“If you really don’t want it, at least share-”

“Enough !” screamed Rindou, “stop being fucking horny for a minute and leave her alone.” His strict tone surprised everyone, he never acted like this, maybe because they usually don’t bring you on. It’s been a while since anyone jokes about it, and it was better that way. Knowing that people think of you that way made him angry in a way, he doesn't like the idea. In his mind, you’re still so young so he doesn't understand how anyone could want you or find you attractive. Even if he faced it the other day, his mind still doesn’t want to see you as a grown up woman. But it’s the case, and maybe you’ll change your mind one day because you will understand that him, and this marriage, aren’t worthy to you. He will come back home and you won’t be there - or there will be someone else here with you. Rindou never dared think about it but, this too, makes him kinda angry. He’s just used to you being at his place when he leaves or comes back.

Thinking about it only now, Rindou wonders why he never got to see you in that kind of outfit before. Of course, he leaves before you most of the time and also comes home late, if he ever comes back. He never saw you leaving or coming back from work. You always seem to be at home. He never really cared but that was normal for him to act like this. Even though Rindou was acting weird lately because of that day and now Sanzu’s words.

“If one day she changes her mind, tell her to call me,” jokes Sanzu again, not knowing when to stop.

“She won’t,” answered Rindou quietly, desperate himself.

“You’re so full of yourself,” adds the pink-haired boy, now bored by his answer.

“I’m not, she’s just like this. I want her to change too…” Rindou suddenly seems a bit numb, angriness gone and only his mind even more stuffy. He doesn’t want you to stick him to death like this, he’d love it if you were able to change your mind, but not to go with someone like Sanzu. And as long as you stay at his place. It might seem to be contradictory, but in his unstable life you're the only thing that hasn’t changed in years and maybe he minds it more than he expected. After that, Rindou leaves the place alone without adding anything, leaving some of them annoyed or concerned. Ran doesn’t really get why his brother is now so concerned about you, but he really wanted to talk about it now.

Rindou comes home with someone that night. He never really does that because he knows he can meet you and doesn't want it to happen at all, but in his head it was clear that you’re rarely here on Thursday night. He never sees you anywhere in your shared apartment and so thought it would be okay for once ; he didn’t want to sleep over tonight, too tired for that. It's better to send her home when he’s done than to himself get home later. Everything was calm, nothing could be heard beside their footsteps and that was all he could pray for. As the girl entered the living room, looking around because she never gets to see where he lives even if they saw each other a few times now, she was more than ready to have some fun here. The place is big, tidy and the overall atmosphere is just perfect. She was already loving it.

“I really like your place, you choose all of this ?” she asked, mentioning the decoration and softly letting her hand go on the couch to feel the texture.

“That’s all you care about ?” answer harshly Rindou. Of course it was not him, this whole place is based on your tastes and he knows you have good ones since everyone told him that his place is so well decorated. It made him sick at first, but now he’s just used to it. She wasn’t there to look at the decoration but him and suddenly, he was off. All he could think was you, again. Following her to the living room anyway, being sure that his mind will change again if she shuts up, he notices something unusual. The door or your office was slightly open, a little lamp glowing inside but mostly you leaned on your desk. Your hair was still up in a ponytail and he couldn’t see your face but was sure that you were asleep. Chills drive down his back at the thought of you waking up to him fucking someone else here and his mind quickly get a conclusion. Grabbing the girl’s arm, he pulls her to the door in a rush.

“My wife is here, you have to go.” His tone looks like you didn’t know any of it and that was better that way or else she wouldn't let him alone easily.

“So we’re going somewhere else ?” she asked, sure that he will follow her. “No,” he simply said before pushing her outside.

“Don’t call me,” was the last thing slipping out of his mouth before he closed the door in front of her face. Rindou was confused at his own behavior. He could follow her at her place but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. Leaning his back against the door for a moment, a sigh leaves his lips before heading to your office. As he passed the door to check for real this time, you were certainly sleeping, an open window with a planned meeting for later on the screen. He never comes to your office before but you always seem to get out of there when you greet him when he’s back. Based on all the files that were accumulated here, you probably mainly work from here and that explains why he rarely saw you in the kind of outfit of the last time. Rindou doesn't dare look at your papers, knowing too well that you’ll never look at his, but still lets his gaze go around your desk, observing your workplace. It was like learning things about you and, to his surprise, it wasn't that bad. You look really invested in your work, have a photo of your younger brother on your desk and even a post-it to call your mom regularly. As he looked at all the things you had around your screen, he found one with when he comes home regularly and even important dates of the month, probably so you know when he comes back or not. That was showing that you cared without stepping on his intimacy.

His eyes fell on your sleeping figure, it definitely was bad for your back to sleep like this and he finds himself hoping that it doesn’t happen too often. You weren’t the little girl that wanted to follow him everywhere anymore, too curious about his job even though your dad did the same and teaches you everything you need to know. You learned to stay in your place and were now respected for sure based on your attitude outside this place. Maybe Rindou was wrong. Yet he won’t tell you that. So, before he leaves, he puts your jacket on your bare shoulders so you won’t be cold when you wake up and closes the door behind him to be sure to not wake you up.

“So both Haitani have to go, make sure to find someone to go with you because I don’t want to do it this time,” Koko warns while searching for the next subject of the meeting in his papers. A little chuckle leaves Sanzu’s lips, happy that it's not him but even more ‘cause it’s them. Rindou isn’t a big fan of events like this but if Mikey is asking for them, there must be a reason. Or not, they’re just there and he probably doesn’t want to send Sanzu or he will make a mess. Still fair enough to Rindou to not sigh at the thought. He just has to find someone, but someone was already on his mind. Plus, he understands Koko’s point : last time, they were both awful because they had to go instead of Sanzu and Kakucho and the poor girls had to go through their bad temper, no matter what, the whole night. This time wouldn’t be the same though, and it’s gladly appreciated. Ran likes those, and Rindou never mind coming with his brother when it's already planned like this. Everything must go well as long as no-one is acting like a jerk around them. It rarely happens in that kind of meeting but, there’s always some person for whom it’s the first time and so they can’t behave. Anyway, Rindou was praying not to cross their roads. He has something else to deal with first.

As Rindou was leaving the meeting with his brother when it finally came to an end, the older one offered him a ride home so they could talk about it further. Ran waves at the others while leaving , smiling but finally happy to have some time with his brother. Plus, they were both busy lately and didn’t get to talk to each other a lot, and since he knew something was off, Ran couldn’t wait to be in his car to talk. Walking to where Ran's car was parked, they both sat in silence before driving out of the parking lot. Ran felt like it’s been an eternity since this happened.

“What’s wrong Ran ?” asking Rindou straight away, knowing his brother too well to know that something was on his mind. His eyes were looking through the window, his chin in his hand, waiting for him to talk but he was obviously busy thinking.

“I want to know what’s on your mind lately,” answered the older one, looking at the road. After a short break, Rindou added a little “nothing” that could never convince his brother and he knew it. Ran sighs before shaking his head a little. Why was he always like this ?

“You can talk to me you know, we’ve been together for life,” he assures, looking sideways at him but he wasn’t moving. “You’re just weird lately and I’m worried. Is it because of Sanzu’s joke the other day ?”

Rindou clenches his jaw at the memories. Simply imagining it makes him want to kill him, and that fact shows how much he changes already. Acknowledging you was something that shakes him deep down, and he doesn't want anyone to joke about it anymore.

“Or is it just about her ?” adds Ran carefully after watching his reaction. His intuition was right, that time when you came to their office really did something to him, as if it was the first time he really saw you. Rindou knew it was impossible to hide it from his brother and sigh before leaning on the back of his seat.

“Just her,” he whispers, like it was a crime to say it out loud. Doing that made it real, and it was still hard for him to admit it. That you were on his mind, that he was kinda worried for you now, sometimes. He hopes you had enough sleep after your late meeting, that no one is bothering you anymore and even asks himself if you remember to eat since you work alone most of the time. It feels stupid and ridiculous, he never did that for anyone and he never thought he will for you but there he was, thinking about sending you a message at 2pm to asks if you’ve eat today when he almost never texted you.

“I feel like a child,” started the youngest, covering his eyes. Ran hum in response, encouraging him to go on. “She’s been on my mind a lot, I started to feel bad being like this with her. She always did a lot for me without me realizing it.” He cuts himself to breathe. Acknowledging that he was wrong seems harder than any mission he ever faced and Ran was ready to wait and listen to him like he always did.

“She’s not a kid anymore,” Rindou finally said but those words were cutting deep in his throat. He probably was the only one to not see it yet, too blinded by the view he had of you, of the child who cuts his freedom and who would always be useless to him because you were too young and immature.

“Better late than never,” answered his brother with a bit of sarcasm. No need to say that it wasn’t welcomed by the youngest who sent daggers at him. “I’m kidding,” chuckles Ran, “What are you gonna do now ? Accepting your marriage ? Considering her as your wife for real this time ?”

“I don’t know, I’m still thinking about it. But I stopped seeing other girls and she was the first one that came to my mind when Koko said we have to come with someone,” admit the youngest. A small and prideful smile appears on Ran's lips at his words. Rindou always blamed you for not being mature enough, but with time, he was the immature one in this relationship and he was ready to go on and face it. Finally.

“So you will ask her ?” Ran couldn’t contain his happiness, he always finds you cute in fact, and thinks that you suit Rindou pretty well in the end.

“Don’t be so happy about it,” pouted Rindou but still nods at his brother’s words. Yes, he will, even if he was anticipating your reaction.

Rindou tried to act normal as he came back home but his hands were sweaty. He stressed about it more than he thought. He rarely talked to you, besides arguing, and it feels weird to suddenly ask you to come with him at a big meeting as his date. Maybe he should apologize first. Thinking too hard about it, he doesn’t realize that he was now in front of your office door and, after a deep breath, he takes his courage with both hands and knocks.

The sudden noise makes you flinch. No one ever knocked on your door here and, for a second, you forget how to respond to that. You regain yourself fast and get up with a little “coming” before opening the door. There was Rindou, freshly coming back from work but without that annoyed expression he always has. Questioning yourself, you tilt your head to the side, not knowing if you should be the one speaking first or letting him since he was the one - kinda - asking for you.

“Do you need something ?” Yes, you talk first by reflex in the end, even if it never ends well. But for some reason, Rindou standing oddly calm in front of you made you feel calm too ? It never happened yet, he was always aggressive around you. Agreeing to your words, he was now searching for his words or how to say it and you never thought you'd be blessed enough to see Rindou like this. awkwardness showing in his attitude and looking away with a frown that didn’t seem hard at all. You wanted to chuckle, but kept your mouth shut and instead smiled politely.

“Just tell me, don't be ashamed,” you added sweetly. Rindou sighs, realizing he was probably ridiculous, he just decided to ask right away.

“I have an important meeting in a few weeks and I wanted to know if you could be my date for the night,” he said quickly, and if you weren’t used to your co-worker speaking so fast you probably wouldn’t have understood a single word. But you did and your cheeks grew hot immediately. You were touched by his offer for sure, but at the same time couldn’t believe it. Rindou never wanted you around him, to hear about you and was angry to get here because that means seeing you, why was he asking you this now ? He clearly saw the misunderstanding in your eyes and decided to speak up.

“I was the childish one in the end, but I want to make it up to you. That doesn’t mean that we’ll be a happy couple tomorrow,” he warns you. “But I’m ready to try to know you better…”

Your heart flutters at his words. It felt like you’ve waited all your life to hear those words. Your hand that was left on the door to keep it open falls slowly as your brain processes them and a lot of things come to your mind.

You didn't even think of nodding in agreement but were already retracing your schedules in your head to be sure you were free. Rindou was waiting for your answer, worried to the bone. You didn’t know, but you were so serious that he was sure you’ll smack the door at him soon because it was way too easy to come to you like this. Instead, you signal him to come inside with you so you can check the date and secure it for him.

“You’re okay with it ?” he asked, confused. Sitting at your desk, you looked at him surprised. “Of course I am, you’re asking so why would I say no ?” It was your first wife's duty, and you were more than glad to accept it. Even more since he was the one asking. So with a smile, you show him to come to you once again so you two can check together.

Rindou looked at you in disbelief, you sure were weird. He still doesn’t get you, and he doesn't really know if he will one day. But he will surely try from now on.

It took me some times, I’m sorry. I was, at first, in an exam period, but since I’m positive to covid I use that time to write and rest

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyorev x reader #haitani rindou imagines #haitani rindou x reader #rindou fluff #rindou x reader #rindou haitani

395 notes · View notes

drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 127: Fake Dating

"It's just annoying," Draco continued as he and Harry packed up for the night. "Literally every single party or brunch, I am hounded about when I'll start dating someone." He slammed his desk drawer closed, "I'm a bloody auror! I haven't got time to date anyone," he groaned. "And now I have this party tonight and I just know-"

"I'll go with you," Harry offered.

He broke off and stared at the other man. "What?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a shrug, "I'll go and be your pretend boyfriend, it would be easy to fake that we're dating since we already know everything about each other."

"But," he started, tilting his head at the other man, "Then people will think we're dating."

"I thought that was the point?"

He stared at Harry, waiting for it to click. When no click was forthcoming he said "but then people would think you're dating me."

"Am I missing something here?"

He rolled his eyes, "I don't think you quite understand what dating me entails."

"Ah, need to be pampered, darling? Wined and dined? Roses on Tuesday and dinner on Friday nights? I could bring you coffee in the morning-"

"I- What?" Draco spluttered. "No! No. Merlin, that's not what I'm saying, although, yes if we're being honest I want to be absolutely doted upon," he added.

"Obviously."

"Wait," he said, shaking his head to clear it, "You're missing the fucking point."

(Read more below the cut)

"Sorry," Harry said, smirking at him and not looking sorry at all, "What's the point?"

"The point," Draco said, poking him in the chest, "Is that dating me is not a pleasant experience."

"Oh come on," Harry teased, "You're not that bad."

"I am a fucking delight," he replied, exasperated, "I am saying that the press will make your life hell."

"Ah," he said, nodding, "I have no idea what dealing with the press is like."

"The press has been kind to you for at least the past decade because of the whole saving the world nonsense," Draco replied as he opened the door and held it open for Harry.

"Except for the lurid months after I came out and all sorts of lies were spread about me," Harry replied wryly.

He shook his head and headed toward the floos, "Even those were mostly flattering," he added with a lewd glance.

Harry laughed, "Whatever. My point," he said, poking him in the shoulder, "is that I'm not afraid of the press." He bumped his shoulder against Draco's, "Come on. What have you got to lose?"

"Fine," he huffed but his stomach was silently doing back flips while his heart did a complicated tap routine in his chest. "Meet me at the Screaming Goblin at 7:00pm sharp." He stepped toward the floo and turned, "Don't dress like a homeless person," he added before stepping into the floo.

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

Harry did not dress like a homeless person. In fact it was quite the opposite.

Harry looked fucking hot.

He was wearing tight dark-wash jeans and a lightweight jumper that hugged his body, making his strong, broad shoulders look even broader and his trim waist even narrowed. He'd done his hair, putting enough product in his curls to make them look artfully tousled and not a mess. And he'd arrived before Draco but instead of waiting, he'd gone in and bought Draco's friends a round and was sitting and yammering away at them.

As Draco approached, Harry turned his head and gave him a wide grin, "Hey, babe," he said, standing up and pulling out Draco's chair for him.

"Hi," he said weakly.

Harry pressed a kiss to his temple and a thrill shot through Draco's body as his brain went pleasantly fuzzy.

And thank Merlin for Harry because Draco hardly answered a question all night, hardly even heard a question all night because he was too busy focusing on the way it felt to have Harry's fingers trailing through the hair at the base of his skull. Harry talked and laughed with Draco's friends like they'd all been friends for ages as he sat with his arm resting on the back of Draco's chair.

When it was time to go, Harry helped Draco into his coat and bid all of the former Slytherins goodbye as he wrapped his arm through Draco's.

The bar wasn't far from Draco's but still Harry murmured, "Can I walk you?"

And Draco found himself charmed into saying yes.

Harry hummed, quiet now that all of Draco's friends were gone, but he still kept his arm looped through Draco's as they walked. When they arrived at Draco's front door Harry asked, "Everything alright?"

Draco's eyes snapped to his and he nodded, "I just can't believe how well they took to you."

He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and grinned up at Draco from the bottom step, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Well, I can be very charming, what can I say?"

"It's a little strange-" Draco started but Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Draco's mouth and every word that Draco knew disappeared.

"Don't overthink it," he said with a wink. Then he turned and started off down the sidewalk calling, "See you tomorrow," over his shoulder.

Draco was half way to bed before he realized that there was no one watching when Harry kissed him on his door step.

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

They spent the next two weeks fake dating and it was the best dating experience Draco had ever had. Harry was sweet and doting, just like Draco had said he wanted and Draco enjoyed that thoroughly.

But what he hadn't expected enjoying as much as he did was being good to Harry in return. While Draco loved to be praised and brought little treats, Harry loved to be touched. He melted when Draco ran his fingers through his hair; when Draco held his hand, he got a huge dopey grin on his face that took hours to disappear; and even a casual touch, fingers trailing over the small of his back when Draco walked by, made his lips twitch up as he leaned into the touch.

Draco was quickly, and disconcertingly, becoming addicted to those smiles.

Smiles were in short supply that day, though. The case they'd worked had been tough. Harry was scowling at the folder splayed out in front of him, his jaw clenched as he filled in paperwork.

"Hey," Draco murmured as he slipped behind him and slowly rubbed Harry's shoulders.

Harry dropped his quill and leaned back into the touch, "Hey," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"Alright?" Draco asked.

He nodded, "I just hate the ones with kids."

"They're going to be alright, though," he said.

"Yeah," he agreed, "But it just brings up bad memories." He shook his head and covered Draco's hand with his own. "Want to get out of here?"

"What did you have in mind?" he asked as he combed his fingers through Harry's soft curls.

Harry tipped his head back to look up at Draco, "this is nice," he said softly. "Want to go back to mine and I'll make you dinner? Then I'll lay with my head on your lap and you can stroke my hair?" he asked wistfully and Draco's heart stuttered in his chest.

"That sounds an awful lot like dating."

"Yeah," Harry affirmed.

"But there's no one there-"

Harry pulled away, breaking Draco's contact with him, "You're right," he said, nodding as he stood up and started shoving files into his bag. "Forget it."

"Harry-"

"No, it's fine," he said, giving him a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're right. I'm just," he shrugged helplessly. "Forget it," he repeated as he grabbed his bag and headed to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

"But-" Draco started before realizing it was useless because Harry was gone. He packed up his things and headed home, this was what he should have been worried about; pretending to be dating had been a terrible idea.

When he got home he flooed Pansy and told her everything. "And now I don't know what to do," he finished, imaging Harry at home all alone make dinner.

"You're such an idiot," Pansy groaned.

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes. "You do know that we all knew you thought it was fake, don't you."

"What?"

"We all knew. Potter told us that first night when we met up for drinks," she said.

He frowned, "Why? Why would he say that? And why haven't you said anything?"

"Because he asked us not to. He said he was really into you, or whatever," she said flippantly, "And that he thought he could win you over by showing you how great dating him could be. He begged us to play along."

He stared at her, mouth open, "He feels the same?" he breathed.

"Yeah," she said. "Obviously."

"I've got to go," he said, abruptly ending the call so he could floo to Harry's flat.

He stumbled out of the floo and immediately called for the other man, "Harry!" he shouted, heading toward the kitchen. "Harry!"

The other man's head appeared outside of the kitchen doorway, "Draco?" he asked as though he couldn't believe his ears.

Draco took one look at him and then closed the gap between them in three steps before wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

Harry dropped whatever he'd been holding and it shattered at their feet but Draco didn't care because he was kissing Harry Potter and that was all that mattered at the moment. He poured his heart and soul into the kiss and Harry met him with the same.

"Me too," he gasped when he pulled back.

"What?" Harry asked, looking a bit dazed and Draco could hardly blame him.

"I'm into you too," he said. "Or whatever you said to Pansy that first night."

"I told them I was in love with you," he confessed. "You still want to own that?"

He nodded and threw himself at Harry again, kissing him and wrapping his arms tight around his neck.

The next time they parted Harry asked hopefully, "So, do you want to stay for dinner?"

"How about I stay forever?" he asked, grinning wide at the other man.

He nodded, "Even better."

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

Day 126: Arranged Marriage | Day 128: Snake

#drarry #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #fake dating #falling in love #I never feel like I can do stories like this justice in just one little ficlet #oh well #I hope you enjoy!#Thanks for the prompt #oblivious draco #boys in love

533 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on.

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish.

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands).

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding.

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.”

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all.

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t.

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world.

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about.

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease.

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do.

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind.

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.”

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused.

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves.

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop.

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening.

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x y/n #corpse social media au #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #fluff #wtf i have never been this soft no one hmu

2K notes · View notes

titularkilljoy · 3 years

Text

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler

717 notes · View notes

studiojeon · 3 years

Text

bitterness in goodbye | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. sadly, you can't read this as a stand alone (meaning: feel free to check the previous parts ♡)

| summary | - You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

warnings: none (?) i mean chaeryeong insults jungkook which is an atrocity in itself but-

contents: we diving into the angst my friends. jungkook is an innocent, kind hearted soul, i promise. oc's got the feels (out oct. 1) for jk. idol!jungkook × student!reader.

author's note: I EDITTED THIS FROM MY PHONE DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING ANNOYING THAT IS? also, thank u for the amount of support i've been receiving lately, i appreciate everyone lots. feel free to ask away or suggest anything btw, i would love to write for any prompts you guys come up with. 💞💗💖💘💓💕

words: 1.57k

playlist: honey by halsey

Four weeks later, the receptionist of your apartment complex hands you over a cardboard box with the hoodie Jungkook and you had talked about that day on the Han River. Jungkook kept pestering you to please please please send him your address for confidential purposes, which you knew had to do with his determination to literally provide anything that catches your eye right away. You assumed it was a sensitive topic for the boy whether people had purposefully taken advantage of his money before, so you didn’t dare to say anything when the man asked you for your size literally two hours after he dropped you off, scared to either reject his solidare intentions or piss him off for bringing unwanted memories back. In your defense, your personality type keeps oscillating between INFP and INFJ so it’s only natural that you take extra care to make sure those around you have as much peace of mind as possible in your presence.

As pretty and comfortable the piece of soft clothing is, an important factor is missing, something that you can’t recreate buying two of the same size and color, and that is Jungkook's escence and how good it looks on him in comparison to anyone else in the world. Meaning, you didn’t like it as much as you thought initially would. And it absolutely did not have to do with the fact that your short stature made you look like a toddler who stole their dad’s jacket.

Still, in order to show Jungkook how much you appreciate his gift, you bring it to work the next day, and the rest of the days after that, with the excuse that with winter rolling around you needed something to keep you warm in the office. Jungkook doesn’t miss the opportunity to confirm your assumptions regarding your appearance whenever he barges into your office randomly throughout the week, arguing that ”you look so adorable” and doesn’t stop for two weeks more, until he gets used to seeing you wearing something you shared with him. Which doesn’t help ease your growing romantic feelings for him whatsoever.

Because yeah, you liked Jeon Jungkook, just like every human being with eyes and sexual desires, except, you didn’t just like him in a superficial way, and that’s where the problem with him resides. Though you are sure everyone has fallen in love with the endearing boy at some point - especially the excluded and invalidated women of society - you can’t help but place some blame on you for allowing yourself to be swooned so goddamn easily. Your mom had said to you at some point to be wary of the way some men would talk to you when you grew up, their intention usually being getting inside your pants, which has happened to you more times than you'd like to admit. And with the argument that she knew you better than anyone, she claimed you would comply right the second someone talked sweet to you; you despised the fact that was the case with Jungkook (and Jungkook only), although he had never shown any sexual innuendos. What your feelings could do to your relationship with Jungkook and your rather chill lifestyle scared you to death, shiver me timbers and all that shit, having romantic feelings for someone else is embarrassing, especially when your chance with them has been scratched out the second you laid eyes on them.

Jungkook sits on your couch, legs spread on your thighs as you two pretend to watch some series on netflix. “I don’t buy for a second the act you’re putting on right now.” he speaks randomly after staring at your deep-in-thought state for a few minutes and laughs when you snap at him for not letting you overthink in peace. “What’s going on?”

Truth is, you don’t fucking know. A few hours before he arrived at your place (you had to pick him up at the dorm and sneak the both of you through the subterranean parking lot, because god forbid someone saw Jungkook arriving at some chick’s dorm on a saturday afternoon) you swore you would be able to conceal whatever emotional turmoil you had going inside of you without compromising your regular behaviour around the man, but when push comes to shove, it’s impossible to keep yourself from wondering how far you could go before that special someone found out what was going on inside of your head.

Jungkook’s phone rings in his pocket with some annoying tone he had downloaded illegally from youtube the same day the company had handed over the device as a gift for him (you still were a little bitter over how they neglected the rest of the staff but you also knew it was kind of impossible for the human kind to just gift a-thousand-dollar-phones to almost five hundred people out of solidarity). “Hyung?” he picks up, still wary of your unusual behaviour, concerned eyes looking at you. “No, uh- i’m with Yugyeom right now.” and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

You have been suspecting for a while that Jungkook is being hesitant to introduce you to his social circle. Although, you’ve tried your best not to take it personal, it is getting harder to resist the urge to ask him what the fuck is up with that. The fact that Jungkook had to lie about the person he was hanging out with broke your ego; he could’ve just said he was with a friend, right? You suddenly feel like you’re fifteen again, when the guy you liked would love you in the dark but pretend he didn’t know you in the light.

Holding your tears back, you gently push him off and make your way towards the bathroom in the most nonchalant way you could. This is your fault for falling for the nice popular guy in the first place, you remind the reflection staring back at you. Still, as bad as it hurt, there was no way you were going to cry over a stupid boy, let alone when he was literally sat on the next room. He can go fuck himself if he thinks he can just toss this behind as if nothing ever happened.

You text Chaeryeong instead.

“chaery bom bom: i swear to god i gonna throw hands the next time i see the bitch.

chaery bom bom: like who the hell does he think he is? fucking squidward looking asshole.

chaery bom bom: he ain’t even that cute bub, you’ll get over him. i know jinyoung wouldn’t treat you like this”

You sigh. Chaeryeong has been enamored with the idea of you and his former company colleague from GOT7 since the day she met the guy (which was somewhere around ten years ago), and although he was all that, you didn’t like his quiet and cold aura, it intimidated the fuck out of you (Jungkook was the entire opposite of that).

You spray on some perfume just to have an excuse as to why you randomly ran to the bathroom when Jungkook’s inquiring eyes stare as you sit back on the couch, which is exactly what he does. “You done with your call?” you ask, bitter.

Jungkook frowns, a bit taken aback by the sudden question but still unaware of the way his words had made you feel, not even sensing the hostile change in your mood. “Yes, it was one of our managers. He was wondering if I could come back to reshoot some...-thing.”

Okay, now you kind of understand as to why he lied in the first place and to say you feel guilty is an understatement. “I supposed he backed down once you mentioned you were hanging out with Yugyeom.” playfulness makes its appearance on your tone and Jungkook rolls his eyes at you, tongue poking on the inside of his slightly red cheeks.

“Sorry for that” he moves closer and cuddles your arm, like a sad guilty puppy. “It’s just- I don’t want them asking questions''.

You understand. He is a very reserved and private person after all. It took you a bit to crack him open yourself. Plus, you kind of share that trait with him, you’d hate it too if people were constantly on your nerves for the people you decide to hang out with.

And that’s all it takes to forgive him. Not very cash money of you.

“You better not pull that shit again, though” you shift in his hold and he looks up at you. One look into your eyes and he knows what you mean. “I’ll kick you out.”

After nodding, Jungkook resumes his concentration on the series you picked out for him. Due to your short attention span, you are very picky about what you invest your time in, especifically with audiovisual pieces of media, so Jungkook trusts you whenever you recommend something on very rare occasions. As a matter of fact, Jungkook was busy attacking your kitchen counters for snacks (which you didn’t have) when you mentioned Money Heist. “Munch on some grapes instead” you suggested to soothe his disappointment.

You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

165 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

Note

It it okay to request for reader (platonic or romantic) to comfort logan after last episode's events?

Yes lord knows he needs it-

(WTIT spoilers ahead)

.........

"STOP IGNORING ME!!!"

That single phrase was still fresh in your mind as you approached the logical Side's room.

After seeing the recent video, you were obviously concerned with how Logan was doing now. Even though he reassured you he lost his cool in the spur of the moment, it seemed to be a lot more than just a simple temper flare.

But for his eyes to glow orange as he screamed? You had no idea why that happened, or if it was the influence of another unseen Side that made him lash out.

Regardless, those three words were fueled with such raw anger that you've never seen before. Coupled with Remus' comment of "who do you want to really scream that at", it was clear Logan's frustration over being ignored constantly was sending him over the edge.

While the other Sides were clueless as to what happened, you didn't bother explaining it to them.

You would rather help Logan yourself, but more importantly you wanted to understand why he felt the need to repress that side of him.

After knocking, Logan opened the door almost immediately. His eyes were fixated on a book regarding anger management, though when he realized it was you and not a Side, he was swift to close it.

"Ah, hello darling." He smiled politely, though you noticed he seemed a bit more exhausted than usual.

Between his desperation to keep Thomas on schedule, dealing with Remus' traps, and everything else...it was easy to see it was wearing him down.

"Hey..are you sure you're alright?"

"..pardon?" Now he was confused, furrowing his eyebrows as he wondered why you were suddenly upset.

"You know what I'm talking about. You can't pretend around me, especially not after-"

"Oh..that again?" Once more he tried to dismiss your concerns, shaking his head. "Listen, I can assure you I'm in a much better state of mind now. I've realized I was being too harsh on Thomas, and a fool to think Remus would listen to anything I had to say. I'm sorry again if my outburst frightened you. I'll take steps to ensure that never-"

"You didn't frighten me, Lo." Your voice became softer as you set a hand on the door.

"....I didn't?" He uttered those words with slight disbelief. And it broke your heart to realize that he assumed you were afraid of him.

"Of course not, I wouldn't be here if I was frightened." As you entered, Logan did nothing to stop you, only shutting the door once you were inside. "But it's troubling that you kept your emotions bottled up for this long and..it got to that point. What if you didn't explode on Remus? What if it was Patton or Thomas?"

"Well..if something like that were to happen-"

"It's hypothetical."

"...hm."

"You're not understanding what I'm saying." You huffed. "Repressing your emotions and letting them explode like a volcano isn't healthy for you."

"So I should just let them dictate my every thought and action?" Logan frowned slightly. "That would compromise the very essence of logic: being able to make rational decisions. It's still my duty as a core part of Thomas. You know I can't afford-"

"And you know you're more than just a part of Thomas. After that video you could've stayed with me longer..and I would've helped you find outlets for your anger. But you hid away here, going back to making stupidly strict schedules like nothing ever happened. When are you gonna realize you're hurting him, too? That you're hurting me?"

For a moment he was stunned by your words. He never considered how this would've hurt you, but...what could he say?

What could he do to remedy this?

"I think you could let out some more of that anger."

"Huh?" He blinked, surprised that you read his thoughts. "What do you suggest?"

"Well, maybe..we can go out into an open field and you can just shout your frustrations to the world and hope nobody hears?"

"........."

"I-It's stupid, I know but-"

"No, no..I understand." He cut in gently, sighing. "While screaming in an open field is usually reserved for dramatic films and is inappropriate in real life, it may serve as a good catharsis for unconscious conflicts. Granted you are somewhere open and completely undisturbed."

"Yeah! Though..it may take us a while to drive out somewhere and-"

"That won't be an issue. You do know you're in the Mindscape, right?"

"..ah, yeah..I forgot." You awkwardly chuckled, falling silent as Logan took your hands into his.

"Hold on."

In the blink of an eye, you two were teleported to another realm of the Mindscape: a wide open field at night. Countless stars and galaxies were in the sky, with the occasional comet soaring past. You noticed the observation tower in the distance and remembered this is where Logan studies astronomy.

All the Sides could make their own personal landscape if they desired to. But you were always impressed by how he made something like this, rather than a simple room like Patton and Virgil had.

Logan let your hands go and adjusted his glasses. "Now then, we'll see how this helps. The exercise of shouting into the..erm..." He seemed lost on the phrase, not having his flashcards on-hand.

"Shouting into the void?"

"Thank you." He smiled a bit before walking away, putting a great deal of distance between himself and you.

When he stopped, he stared up at the sky for some time. Then he gazed down at his hands, which trembled slightly as he began overthinking that video...and every frustration he's ever had.

All the things he tried to get Thomas to do or say..but were always ignored or mocked by the others.

He hated it..

Absolutely hated it.

It wasn't fair.

Meanwhile, you were just checking your phone, though you noticed that Logan hasn't done anything for a good minute or two. It made you worried that he was gonna back out of this and think it was a ridiculous idea.

'Maybe this wasn't a good-'

"AAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Logan suddenly screamed, louder than ever before. It was truly raw and heartbreaking. But even afterwards he continued shout at nothing:

"I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE A VOICE TOO!! I JUST WANT TO BE HEARD AND FULFILL MY PURPOSE!! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR?!!!"

Then he collapsed to his knees, clutching his head for a few moments before bringing both arms around himself. His heavy breathing eventually slowed by the time you approached him.

"Lo?"

You cautiously sat beside him in the grass, stunned by what you saw when he gazed over at you.

His eyes were glowing orange, tears brimming in the corners of them. Now that you could actually see them, they seemed animalistic in a way. But as he began calming down, the glow disappeared although the tears didn't as they streaked his face.

"W-Well..I..wow..." His voice was a bit hoarse as he took his glasses off, sniffling.

" Yeah..I know, love." You smiled sadly, setting a gentle hand on his back. "It's very cathartic, isn't it?"

#clanask #anonymous #sanders sides x reader #sanders sides imagine #logan sanders x reader #ts logan x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #wtit spoilers #logan sanders

176 notes · View notes

comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

Best friends Brother - G.W

Part 1 of my slow burn mini-series, inspired by and dedicated to @amourtentiaa , want to be tagged? Let me know!

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Part 2

George Weasley x Fem Reader

About: The Reader is falling for her best mates older brother, she confines in Ron who is already afraid of losing his best friend to the brothers he’s so pressured to be like.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mention of food and eating, but of angst, George punching a creep.

Walking away from Hagrid’s hut towards the castle, thoughts about the more quiet Weasley twin filled your hazy head - you were planning on shooting your shot, but first you needed some advice and the only person who could do that right now is your best friend Ron - currently chewing your ear off about Hermione and the house elves.

“She doesn’t know when to stop does she? All the S.P.E.W nonsense, if she brings it up one more time-”

“Hey, do you think George likes anyone?” you asked as cool as possible, trying to contain your nervousness and excitement.

Although you and George had only spoken few words to one another, he was all you could think about, all you ever thought about, day in day out. You would share sweet glances and looks across the common room in the evening, the beautiful amber glare coming from the flames projecting onto George’s face, making him look like an angel.

As much as you liked him, you were terrified that he wouldn’t feel the same, that he only saw you as his little brothers best friend - you hated it.

Ron slowed down from his brisk walk and he continued to stare at the ground “George? As in.. my brother?”

“yeah” you smiled shyly, swallowing hard.

Ron could feel his heart flutter, the idea of another person - his best friend - favouring one of his legendary twin brothers over him made him sick to his stomach, he couldn’t lose anyone else, he wouldn’t let it.

He pondered his thoughts, perhaps you were asking for someone else, someone Ron didn’t care about - the desperation in his stomach kept churning to find out.

“I don’t know” he replied in a huff “we don’t really talk much, why you asking anyway?”

You went quiet, suddenly finding interest in the scenery as the two of you edged closer to the castle.

“uh, no reason” you lied, running your hand through your hair.

For all of Ron’s flaws, he could tell when his best friend was lying - he never failed calling you out for it in the past, you learnt not to play any card games with him - especially when galleons were on the table.

The two of you entered the loud castle, pushing past students in the hall, making your way to the Gryffindor common room.

“you like him, don’t you?” Ron muttered under his breath, making sure everyone else around you couldn’t hear.

You sighed and made eye contact with Ron, his facial expression even more sour than when he puked up slugs in first year.

You walked up the stairs and held on to the rail, looking around for the Fat Lady “I suppose I do, I was thinking of asking him to-”

Ron could feel the sweat form in his palms and under his arms, images of you and George being together all the time instead of him flashed before him.

“I don’t know, Y/N, you’re two years younger than him, you haven’t spoken more than ten words to each other.”

Your heart pained for a moment, your spirits crushing like the ingredients in one of Snape’s potions.

“I just don’t think he’ll like you that much, I don’t want you to get hurt.” he finished, the two of you finally reaching the portrait.

“I guess so” you mumbled “you know him better than I do.”

Over the next few days you couldn’t stomach being around George, each time you looked into his gorgeous eyes and seeing him smile, caused your heart pain, a lump forming in your throat, and hot tears filling your eyes.

At first George didn’t notice but when he would wave and smile - only to be ignored, he couldn’t help but overthink; wondering if he had done something wrong.

It wasn’t just George who you ignored, you kept away from your best friend Ron too - Ron felt like shit but you were away from George and that gave him enough of a clear conscience to sleep at night.

You couldn’t sleep, you missed your best friend even when he hurt your feelings, you also felt hopeless, the only person you ever showed an interest in wouldn’t even give you a chance.

“What’s been up with Y/N lately? George asked his younger brother, buttering his toast, causing Ron to almost choke on his.

“What you on about?”

George rolled his eyes and swallowed his food, “unbelievable you are, she’s been avoiding you like the plague and she won’t even look at me.”

“So, did you make up your mind yet?”

You swore silently under your breath, recognising the voice who called out to you - an attractive and charming Hufflepuff student in George’s year with short black hair kept asking you over and over to go on a date with him in Hogsmeade, each time you said no had failed to satisfy his desire.

“Uh” you were trying to figure out the best way to tell him to fuck off, but then again, what did you have to lose? “yeah, I’ll be there” you faked a smile.

Ron watched in the distance and felt relieved, from his perspective, the possibility of you and George seemed incredibly slim to none. He walked over towards you as soon as the lad split, a smile creeping up on his face.

“Y/N, alright?” he smiled, his hands in his pockets.

You stared at him, yes you were hurt, but you missed him - he could do much worse to cause a much bigger fall out between the two of you.

“I suppose” you sighed “walk with me to Transfiguration class?”

Ron smiled “can do”

“and took your bloody shirt in!” you scolded him, bumping into him playfully.

As much as you enjoyed visiting Hogsmeade, you couldn’t help but want to go back home and climb back into your warm bed, hiding away from the world - but your habit of trying to see the best in people lead you here - waiting outside Honey Dukes for your date to arrive.

“Look at you!” he called out, walking over and kissing your hand “ready for the best day of your life?” he grinned.

Best day of my life? with you? I should’ve stayed in bed.

“Sure” you replied, plastering a fake smile on your face.

The best day of your life wasn’t too bad, you had someone new to talk to, to try and get your mind off things - but your heart couldn’t help but yearn for George. You looked around the shops thinking of the products he liked, disliked, and what he bought for Ron at Christmas.

Your date had more to blab about himself than get to know you, he held your hand and bought you a much needed Butterbeer - but he talked so much that he didn’t even get round to drinking his own. The more he had to say, the more he tried to impress you, the more you disliked him, making you fall for George even more.

Finally breaking out from the busy and overwhelming pub and out into the cold, your date stood in front of you with a strange expression on his face.

“So?” he shrugged

“so, what?” you stared at him, your patience wearing thin.

The shared laughter between George and Ron came to a halt when George spotted you with his classmate, he knitted his brows together.

“Why’s Y/N around that plonker?” he asked his younger brother.

Ron looked at you then back to George “she’s on a date”

George shook his head “he’s an absolute creep”

The two of them stared, the student took a hold of your hand and tried to pull you in for a kiss, you pulled away and glared at him, trying to not make a scene.

“Fucking pervert!” George hissed, storming over towards the two of you “Hey!”

George clenched his jaw, his nostrils flared and his glaring gaze settled on on the lad, he bunched his right hand into a fist and swung, everything went in slow motion as George punched him in the face.

You were speechless, you didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare and watch the fight unfold.

“Stay away from her or my foot will rip you a new one!” George threatened him, he turned to you, his facial expression instantly turning soft.

“th-thank you”

“you don’t need to thank me love, are you alright?” George searching your eyes with his, full of care and concern.

Your heart fluttered, his voice, him speaking to you sounded like the most fascinating birds chirping, and his caring face caused fireworks in your stomach to erupt into the sky.

You wanted to take your chance, ask him out and start over but before you could do any of that, let alone reply, Ron hurried over and interrupted; putting you back in your place and making you remember how his brother felt about you.

“Proper shiner he’ll have in the morning” Ron laughed “sort your knuckles out George, if anyone sees they’ll send a letter home.”

The fluttering in your heart died down, the chirping of the birds instantly turning into the most dreadful squawks, and the fireworks in your stomach burning out, starving the embers before they could relight.

“Thanks again” you murmured quietly, flashing George one last smile before walking away, wanting to retreat to your bed and hide away.

George had to admit, he felt quite hurt that you went back to ignoring him after he had your back the other week - he knew that you didn’t owe him anything, not even an explanation - but he couldn’t understand why even after making up with Ron, you still refused to look at him.

Sitting on the sofa in the common room in your pyjamas, you flicked through your Quidditch magazine and blinked over and over whilst you looked across the page, sleep trying to pull you in.

“Georgie, I’ve already said-”

“Shhh!”

Jolting awake, you looked behind you and stared at the twins, long roles of parchment in one hand and a map in the other, you yawned and rubbed your eyes, closing your magazine.

“It’s okay boys, I’m going to bed anyway.” you yawned again, slowly getting off the sofa.

Fred and George shared a look, the older twin nodding his head towards you “go on then, mate, I’ll be upstairs.”

Fred walked past you, he whispered a “goodnight!” and went off to his dorm, leaving you alone with the person you wanted more than anyone in the world.

George pursed his lips, standing around awkwardly before approaching you “Y/N, can we talk?” he asked softly.

You nodded slowly, the nerves piping up in your tummy.

“What’s up?”

“You’ve been ignoring me, love” he said softly “have I done something wrong?”

This was your moment, not to ask him out - but to tell him the truth.

You pushed your stray hairs out of your face and sighed, the lad of your dreams standing beside you, looking down on you.

“I have feelings for you George” you admitted, your mouth going dry “and that’s why I have to stay away from you, because I know you’re never going to feel the same.”

George went quiet, the embers from the fire spreading and making it set alight, the amber tones coming from the flames resting on his face. He smiled for a moment and licked his lips, looking into your eyes.

“Tomorrow night” he whispered softly in your ear “where we first met”

Tag list: @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl

452 notes · View notes

futurewriter2000 · 3 years

Text

Rocks and Dust

A/N: I don't know why Remus gave me such Heath Ledger vibes when I was writing this but he did and I am honestly so fucking proud of it. Now, I really want to make myself some rice and chicken... or just rice. I hope you like it <3

REQUESTED BY @cloudywitchh: Hiiii, Im not sure if your requests are open, but if they are i have one. :)) Before I request, I want you to know that I love your oneshots and series! ive been binge reading. Could you possibly do a Gryffindor reader that has both james and remus that like her. oneshot or series. if you choose to write it, thank you, if not i understand

Souls meet when eyes do and it hasn't been much easy to hold yourself back when such mesmerising hazel eyes had done nothing but watch you seductively.

At first you couldn't feel it but after a while, something in the back of your mind told you to look a certain direction. When you did, your eyes met his and a certain colour started to appear on your cheeks.

You watched him, he watched you. "Yes, Potter?" you asked with a smirk forming on the corner of your lips.

He smiled, tilting his head a bit to the side before speaking. "Had you done something new with your hair?" he asked, glancing up at your hair as you let out a laugh.

"Not really."

"Well, no matter of it." he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "You look absolutely stunning."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest but you were not about to let him know that. "Thank you. When don't I look absolutely stunning." you joked and he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, mate." Remus came into the common room and tapped James' shoulder as he passed him by, sitting next to him.

James smile faded a bit. He was a tad disappointed in his friend's presence. Everything had seemed to go so well between you and him. If the two of you continued to be alone, he would have had more confidence to ask you out on a date. Knowing that Remus took fancy in you too, it was a bit challenging to do so.

"What's up, Moony?" James looked at him, clearly not in a friendliest tone Remus was used to.

Remus' lips twirled upwards and he felt amused by his friends' frustration. He looked at you and smiled wonderfully. "Hi." he said and you smiled cheerfully, oblivious to the competition in front of you.

"Hi, Remus."

You seemed to be a tad disappointed as well. You loved to flirt with James because it seemed so easy and fun to do yet sometimes you couldn't understand whether he truly likes you or if he's doing it just out of fun. But you live by your mother's words; If a man truly likes you, he will do absolutely everything to let you know and pursue you.

That was why you were always so laid back. You didn't overthink anything when it came to boy. They seemed to think more simply than girls and whatever they did, they did because they wanted to, not because there was a whole scheme behind their actions.

You could see a bit discomfort in James. You couldn't really figure out why but he started to pout, which had made you a bit more uncomfortable around both of them.

Remus, however, loved to talk to you. He was open and honest but sometimes you felt as if he held too many secrets inside of him. To you, he was a bit harder to get to know, no matter how much he could tell you.

"You're going to love this, (y/n)!" he started to sound more excited. "I had found the oldest yet most interesting place a few nights ago-" he hear- both of you heard James scoff to that. "And I know your curious spirit cannot wait to explore it."

"Where?!" you threw all your books away and jumped forward. Old ruins and historic backgrounds always made you overly excited. You must have gotten it from your dad's side of the family. Everybody seemed to be more of history freaks and you were no different.

"I can show you. What do you think James?" Remus turned to James, who only laughed.

"No, thank you." he stood up and stretched his arms over his body. "Rocks and dust? Not my cup of tea. If I wanted to take a girl I fancy-" he looked at you with a grin and a soft chuckle. "I'd take her somewhere more romantic." he walked to you and winked. "A lovely restaurant or a walk among the trees under the moonlight." he was leaning down to you, close and observing the flush in your cheeks.

Your eyes were meeting and it lit a fiery spark between the two of you but as you didn't want to give him the pleasure of it, you rolled your eyes and moved away. "That's a bit of a cliche, isn't it, Potter?" you stood up and stretched your back as well. "I don't do romance." you turned from James to Remus and smiled excitedly. "Shall we go and explore!?"

"Yes we shall."

---

Remus hasn't felt you this excited over some 'rocks and dust' in all the years he had known you but he had felt his heart fill with joy and love when he could see how a person can live for the small things in life. You didn't care about wealth or power, neither if a person was physically beautiful and attractive. You neither cared if person had its flaws, you still loved anybody for who they were; good or evil. You always tried to look the best in people and your gift was, that you always seemed to bring out just that out of everybody and especially out of him.

As the two of you had walked, he had realised that he wants to tell you something important to him. It wasn't a secret to his friends and family but it was a shameful secret to him and to everybody else.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked as the two of you were climbing up the hill.

"Yeah." you stopped, gasping for air and putting your hands on your hips. "I think we need to rest too." you smiled and he laughed.

"It's not that far. We're almost close."

"My heart is almost close to stopping too."

He laughed again and sat on the rock, finding the moon shining on him as if it was leaving its fullness from a few days ago. "I just have the need to tell you this... and I'm serious."

You looked up at him and found the moon perfectly cut out the colour of his green eyes. "Your eyes look so pretty in the moonlight." you said without any filter but sat down next to him.

"Thank you."

You smiled and looked up at the moon before taking a look of his worried expression. "What is it?" you shoved him a little as he smiled. "You can tell me your deepest darkest secret." you joked but it was no joke to him.

"Well... I'm... I'm a werewOlf." he stuttered out, trying to sound casually as he said so but unsuccessful.

You only stared in silence, clearly processing the information as he was impatient to wait for your reaction. Your eyes only narrowed at him and you nodded. "I knew it."

"You knew it?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, I didn't know it. I just know there was something to you that I couldn't put my finger on but I kind of knew it. It did cross my mind once but I brushed it off quickly. I didn't believe it but apparently my intuition was on to something." you laughed and stood up, offering him your hand. "Shall we continue?"

"You don't seem a tad phased by it." he took your hand gently and stood up.

"Oh, I am but I really don't mind people being people. You know?" you started to talk fast. "I don't judge people by their flaws, more by their actions and I don't seem why your werewolfness would bother me when there are far worse withces, wizards and Muggles in this world, who are far more worse than any werewolf I had encounter. Which, you're the first but still. You don't seem the one to eat children and howl at the moon."

He let out a loud laugh. "I don't eat children but I do the latter."

---

The two of you walked up the hill hand in hand, him trying to pull you up as his steps were much larger than yours. He was more of muscles than you, faster and careful as for you seemed to trip over a branch or two.

He had opened up as the two of you made your way to the top and started to walk on the flatlands. It stretched far away from the castle but you could see the ruins so clearly from the distance. The light of he moon made the subject far more pleasing to the eye and at that moment when Remus was talking to you and your eyes seemed to wander on the view- everything seemed to be perfect and you imprinted that moment into your memory so that you can look back and re-live it all over again.

As he talked, he seemed more lose and excited. He hadn't held back on anything. He had told you about Animagnus forms of his friends and how he isn't the only one who howls at the moon. Sirius apparently loves to do it just as well in his other form. He had constantly made you laugh by his full moon stories and how he accepted the awful fact of his life-long destiny of sharing his body with a beast.

He was glowing, literally glowing when he was telling you all the things he was hiding from you and for the first time, you were the one to listen and he was the one constantly talking.

"We're here!" he pointed at the ruins of an old castle. It wasn't big or notorious as Camelot or Hogwarts or any other historically known castle. It was small and poor in it's built but it was still a castle, just not the traditional kind.

He let go of your hand and it gave you a sort of an electrical shock as he did. You seemed to be so comfortable and in love of holding hands that you completely forgot what it was like without his fingers intertwined with yours.

It wasn't for long though. He had opened the old wooden door for you and offered you his hand to lead you inside. "After you, m'lady." he bowed as a gentleman should and you hurried up inside, taking him by the hand and leading him behind you.

Your wands needn't to be lit as the moonlight made it's own natural light through the large gaps between the rocks. Nature made it's own charm by growing vines around the walls, flowers and grass among the cracks. It truly did feel more magical than the magic itself.

"Oh, Remus look!" you ran to one of the walls and saw names carved in. "Ibzan." you smiled back at him.

"Old biblical name." Remus followed and saw many other names written around it. "Arthur." he laughed. "Wouldn't be an English castle without an Arthur in it."

"Tatiana." you looked at it. "Like a princess." you looked at him but he seemed to be very close to you, staring forward. His chest was against your back and his head leaning over your shoulder. You didn't have to look back. You could only move your eyes to the side and see him there.

He seemed to be so focused on the rocks in front of you that he hasn't even noticed you marvelling at him. All you could see, for the first time noticing his sharp, nicely structured side profile. His cheek bones were finely defined, his lips sharp and plump and his eyebrows nicely arched.

He truly was a beautiful boy and you hadn't noticed it till now. His palm was placed against the rock as he was supporting himself but when he had noticed you looking at him, he slyly looked back. A corner of his mouth quirked up and he said: "A girl doesn't need to be a princess to have a beautiful name." he spoke low and quietly.

The spark that James lit before was over-flamed by the passion Remus arroused in you. Before you knew it, he was leaning down and kissed you softly. One short kiss and it was enough to tempt you for more. You put your hand around his neck and pulled him down for me, smiling into it as you had felt him smile as well. As heavy as they felt, they seemed light as well because no kisses seemed to be as perfect as his; soft, teasing yet deep and passionate.

When he placed his hand on your cheek you could feel the dust set on your skin. You let out a giggle and he pulled away. "What?" he smiled but then just noticed how dark your cheek was. "Oh, my-" he let out a laugh, then looked back on the wall his palm was pressed on before. "I am terribly sorry."

You laughed as well. "Don't worry." you continued to laugh and wipe it away. "It'll probably wash away."

"Probably." he tilted his head a bit and gave you a peck. "And we should probably head back."

Putting your arms around his neck, you made a big stretch and looked up at the sky. "Ugh..." you looked back into his green eyes, burning your soul into sparks and bitses. "But it's so beautiful here." you let out a small whine and he chuckled.

"Well, (y/n)(y/l/n). I didn't think you did romance." he teased.

"I don't. I let the man do all the romance for me." you stepped on your tiptoes and brushed your nose against his.

"That's a bit unfair."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you, Lupin. I have time to make it fair."

"Glad to hear it."

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #marauders x reader

180 notes · View notes