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phas3d · 2 months

Text

You Play Quidditch || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw:: none

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

summary :: you play quidditch either alongside them or against them, I automatically thought that you wouldn't be on the same team as them so uh,,, whoops

DRACO MALFOY

Loves the idea of it, the two best Quidditch players are dating

But once he finds out you're better than him, he hates it LMAO

Everyone starts to compare you two and he's so quick to defend himself and say he's better

Makes everything a competition now, he can't stand losing

Who's faster, who can dive better, better broom, cooler tricks, everything is a big competition to him

During his game days, if he's against you - he does not give a fuck

If anything, he's harsher against your team to make SURE he doesn't get embarrassed

If you end up winning against him, then he'll be upset the whole time during your celebration party

But if you lose, oh my god he's bragging and taking shot after shot

Takes so many photos of his win and rubs it in your face every time you make him mad

During your games he's not super loud

But oh my god, he is a KAREN

Always complaining to the ref about how what the other team was a foul or wasn't fair

He has genuinely held back a game by almost an hour just by arguing with the ref

Eventually you did get the point

One whole hour of his yapping,,, for 10 points...

If you ever get hurt from playing, he'll mock you but be worried of course

He'll stay in the hospital wing until you're all better

The nurses have to beg him to leave but all he does is pretend to leave but sneak in during night

He helps you heal and get better since he's been hurt a lot from quidditch

He's kinda like your own physical therapist

TOM RIDDLE

Never liked quidditch because of all of the assholes who play (like his brother)

Often gets teased by the team but it’s ironic

Because the coach has literally BEGGED Tom on their knees to play for the Slytherin house

He’s an amazing seeker, one of the best and way better than Draco

But he’d rather enjoy his own time and not have to deal with teammates, practices, award ceremony’s, etc

He did play in year 3, and he was INSANEE

Literally got the snitch within 4 minutes, the world record for Quidditch… done by some little 14 year old

But he quit after because he thought it was boring, plus Mattheo joined and he didn't want to be around his brother

But once he sees you playing, he sighs and realizes he's gonna have to turn into a soccer mom

Helps your prep for all of your games

Fills up your water bottle, packs your broom, brings deodorant and extra socks, and ofc a shit ton of snacks

He couldn't give less of a shit about coming to your games, but he decides to go to one and only one

But when he does, he gets so irritated with how everyone plays, especially you, so he decides to join the team again

The second he joins, he leaves everyone in the dust and instantly becomes captain as well as Seeker (Draco was pisssssseddddd)

Starts training everyone as if they're preparing for war

Pushes you way harder than all of the others

Although he's a player, he's basically the coach since even the coach isn't as good as him

Overtime, he sees improvement in you and he's proud but won't show it

He supports your sport but won't attend a majority of the games, only practices

Surprisingly, he's pretty nice to your teammates and ends up getting a small soft spot for them all

Brings your whole team water and snacks, but he says it's just cause it's cheaper to buy snacks in bulk

But regardless, if you win your match, he's happy for you and won't do anything special besides maybe give you a small kiss

But if you lose, he'll make sure that you learn from your mistakes and trains your team even harder

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Super conflicted between falling deeper in love or being protective and not allowing you to get hurt

He also plays and he’s a beater, he knows how harsh the players can get

Comes to all of your games and practices to make sure you never get hurt

Runs at full speed if he thinks you’re going to fall

But you always end up saving yourself

Whenever Slytherin goes against your house, he’s always a little bit more gentle on you

But he doesn’t hold back against your teammates

Everyone calls him a wimp for not wanting to hurt you, in retaliation he wacks the shit out of anyone who said that

Soooo embarrassing in the crowd for your games

“THAT’S MY GIRL!!!!”

Definitely goes crazy and buys air horns, party poppers, a megaphone, the whole soccer mom kit

He's one of the Weasleys' number one buyers, since he purchases all of their fireworks

100000000%% DEFINITELY AFFIRMATIVELY CONFIDENTLY, he yells at the ref whenever they fuck up anything

One time the speaker called a foul on you since you stole the opposing team beater's bat and started wacking the opposing team on the head with it

You were 1000% in the wrong. No point in defending yourself

But Mattheo slammed the speaker's head into their desk and removed the foul from your record

Even when a point is rightfully earned by the other team, Mattheo will start booing the ref and convince others to join him

When you win your match, he's super happy for you and gets you a nice filling dinner

But if you lose, he'll just say that the game was rigged and that he'll beat up anyone who mentions the loss

THEODORE NOTT

When you make the team, he’s super duper proud of you

But once he finally realizes that you’re going to be playing and getting hurt, he instantly takes it back

He asks if you’re sure you want to play 24/7

He also plays, he’s the Keeper for Slytherin and is pretty good

Whenever Slytherin goes against your house, he’s shitting bricks

Once the match starts, he avoids you at all cost to make sure he doesn’t hurt you

But when he sees Matt slam a ball into your broom, making you fall from the sky, he instantly rushes to you

He helps you get off your broom and put you on the floor and then continues the match

Everyoneeeeee was booing him but he didn’t give a shit

When he’s watching you play, he’s so annoying omg

Definitely a back-seater

“Why would you do that?!? No go left!!! Oh my god….”

It’s never towards you, but your teammates

After the game ends, he loudly shit talks your teammates even though they're right there

"Bruh number 10 was selling the whole match" while number 10 is already crying on a bench from feeling so guilty

If you win, it's endless praises and a small surprise for you in some shape or form

It might be a milkshake or boba after your game, a promise for a future date, or just a bunch of kissings

But if you lose, don't worry he won't ever blame you

Instead he bullies the shit out of your teammates until they almost cry or burst into tears

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Is on the Quidditch team too but he's a benched player :( He's not super duper good

But he's a back up Keeper for when the main guy gets sick or beaten too badly

So when you make it and you have an important role, he's amazed at how good you are

He does his best to support you and go to all of your games

He realizes that he might never be put on the field for his games, so he decides to quit and instead become a water boy

This makes your team reallyyy like him, and he gets popular with the girls on your team

So much so that it ends up distracting them, making them fuck up practice

So he quits being a water boy and lets Neville do it

He supports you at all of your games and gives you any tips he can since Slytherin is one of the top quidditch teams

Whenever you win, he's so proud you you!!!!

He takes you out to eat and celebrate

Whenever you lose, he shrugs it off and says that it was rigged anyways

Will get you a small gift anyways as a congrats for even playing

Always tells people that you're on the quidditch team to flex that you're cool

One day you get hurt from playing and he's so worried for you

But he calms down and waits all day till you're better

Always proud of you and encourages whatever you choose to do

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heavyhitterheaux · 25 days

Text

Got Me Thinking

Part 8: When I Needed You Most

Synopsis: This is supposed to be a time of healing, so you let Jack know what you had been feeling since the last time the two of you spoke despite how difficult it is. You feel like he failed you, but unexpectedly, a piece of paper is about to change both of your lives forever.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Series Masterlist 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

As hard as it was for Jack to walk away from you that night, he knew if he had wavered for a second then he would have instantly changed his mind and went right back to you. It was a difficult decision for him to make, but when he really sat down and thought about it, it made the most sense. A lot had occurred within the last six months and knew that your anxiety was probably getting the best of you and instead of putting pressure on you by being in the situation, he decided to take a step back in order for both of you to begin to properly heal.

He didn't leave until you fell asleep and made sure you were safe at this point, he was praying that you didn't run off again.

He drove back to his house in silence and was surprised to walk in to see Kelsey gathering all of her things. Or what was left of them for that matter. Ever since he had gotten back from Paris and being with you, of course an argument took place about the paparazzi pictures when Kelsey finally confronted him and he owned up to it.

He loved you and didn't love her and didn't want to be with her anymore.

“Oh, I thought that you would be with her. I was trying to be gone before you got back.” She quietly said as she was zipping one of her suitcases.

“I was earlier.”

“Can we just talk for a second? No bullshit.” She asked and Jack slowly nodded before shrugging, because at this point what did he have to lose?

“I knew. I knew and I didn't want to believe it. From the moment you brought her to your show and I saw how everyone gravitated towards her, I instantly got jealous because I couldn't even remember the last time you looked at me like how you looked at her. Actually, you never have. Not even on our wedding day. Since then, I knew that I wasn't going to be able to compete and when Clay told me that you and her were just friends, I highly doubted it.”

“Kelsey…”

“Just let me finish. Please. I'm sorry for what I did to you and I'm sorry for how I've treated you overall for these last few months.”

“Hmm, more so an entire two years, but go on.”

“I deserved that. I'm realizing how bad I've hurt you and I started pushing you away so you going back to your ex is not surprising and I should have seen it coming. I just want you to be happy at the end of the day and I now know that Y/N is the one who brings you happiness and not me. I should have been able to realize this on my own, but it took me talking to my therapist and my sister to see how wrong I was. I mean I cheated first so I guess this is my karma.”

“At one point in time, I did see myself being with you for the rest of my life, but Kelsey, you changed and it wasn't for the better.”

“That's fair and I agree. I wasn't the nicest person. I just…. want this divorce to go as smoothly as possible so whatever you want me to sign, I'll do it. Here's your key back. And I wish the best for you and Y/N, jealousy aside, she seems like an amazing girl who loves and cares about you a lot. I'm sorry that I took you for granted. I know now that we were kinda doomed from the beginning because of what I did. Take care of yourself and take care of Y/N.” Kelsey placed the house key in Jack’s hand before grabbing her suitcase and making her way towards the front door.

Once the door shut, Jack had sat down on the couch playing with the key in his hands and trying to make sense of what had just happened. If circumstances were different, you would be the first person that he told, but figured that it was best to give you your space.

—

You didn’t bother moving when you heard the front door open knowing that it was Tania who just got done her shift and had the rest of the day to herself which meant that she would be all up under you and not letting you out of her sight.

“Y/N, are you watching White Men Can't Jump again? This is the fourth time today and maybe the fifteenth time this week.” Tania said as she came into your bedroom to see you surrounded by snacks and Jack's face on the TV.

“I miss him and he hates me.” You quietly responded before stuffing another cheese puff into your mouth.

You were back in Calabasas in your house and Tania had been staying with you because everyone just knew that you were probably going to make a run for it again, even though you had said that you weren't.

“He does not hate you and I'm sure he misses you too. But you damn near gave all of us a heart attack…. again. I got on the first flight I could find to come and look for your ass.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Stop it. Stop apologizing. What's done is done. Now you have to start healing. Did you call that therapist that my cousin had recommended?”

When you were quiet, she grabbed the remote to press pause.

“How are you supposed to heal if you won't even try? This is not what you do to start to heal.”

“I'll do it tomorrow.”

“And I'm going to keep bothering you until you do.”

“Tania, I literally uprooted the life that I've known for like the past 5 years for him all to be like we need to work on ourselves before we be together how we want to be. Like what the fuck? You couldn't have figured that out before? In that regard, I'm pissed at him.”

“And I see why because I would be too. However, look at it from this perspective. He loves you enough to be honest and tell you that because he wants the relationship to be successful. We are all literally rooting for the two of you. I'm going to be here with you every step of the way. You can always call him, because what's stopping you? But… what the hell are you eating? Did you just dip your cheese puff in cream cheese and peanut butter?”

“What? I'm hungry?”

“No, that is the diet of someone who is pregnant.”

You looked over at her and rolled your eyes as you grabbed another one.

“You are literally so dramatic. I can't be. Already took a test when I was with Jack and it was negative. I'm just hungry like I said. Stop making a big deal out of everything.”

“Y/N, you have never eaten that when you're hungry so cut the bullshit.”

All of a sudden, a wave of nausea hit you and you then hopped up to run into the bathroom emptying the contents of your stomach with Tania right behind you.

Once you were finished, you stood up and brushed your teeth before splashing cold water on your face and Tania was eyeing you through the mirror.

“There’s a baby in there.”

“No there isn't and stop wishing that on me. I can't have a baby right now because that is only going to complicate things. It's not like me and Jack are exactly talking to one another.”

“Let's just take another one and see. I'll go buy it.”

All you did was let out a groan before rolling your eyes at her.

“Auntie Tania reporting for duty.”

“I can still kick you out of my house.”

—

Jack had been pacing back and forth in the studio while staring at his phone debating on if he was going to call you. It had been a few weeks and he wanted to check in on you and make sure that you were okay, but he wasn't quite sure if you would be willing to talk to him.

A few people came with him to Nashville to start working on new music, but truth be told, he did it to get out of Louisville and to hopefully get his mind off of you.

And his plan was failing…. Miserably. He couldn't focus for more than thirty minutes at a time.

“Will you just call her already?” Clay asked while glancing at his older brother.

“If you keep this up, you’re going to run a hole in the floor and I'm not paying for it.” Neelam said from behind him as she walked into the room.

“I'll call her for you!” 2fo yelled from the corner as he had just opened a bag of cheetos.

“I don't understand why you're acting like this when you were the one who broke it off with Y/N in the first place.” Urban quietly said and Jack shot him a look.

“I didn't break it off! We're taking a break. Hiatus if you will.”

“Why are you yelling at us? We didn't tell you to do that. It seems like you're more miserable now then you were when you and Kelsey were a thing. If you could call it that.”

“Ew, I just got chills and not the good kind.” Clay confessed and Urban stifled a laugh.

“We needed to. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think it was important. She literally had all of us looking for her for hours and didn't even think to let anyone know that she was okay.”

“Still better than Kelsey in my book.”

“URBAN!” Neelam scolded and he held his hands up in defense.

“Just call her.” Clay said as he picked up Jack's phone and handed it to him.

“She probably doesn't want to talk to me.”

“Hmm, I wouldn't either after I left my husband, quit my job, and moved back home to be with you and then you break up with me.”

“URBAN, FOR THE LAST TIME WE DIDN’T BREAK UP.”

“But yall are not together though.” Clay said while taking a long sip of his smoothie as he was backing up Urban and Jack sighed.

“Not too much on my mans now! He fumbled a baddie though.” 2fo piped up with cheeto stained fingers as Jack shook his head.

“Jack…. I don't know who allowed you to be an adult because the math is NOT mathing when it comes to you and making decisions regarding relationships. Y/N is EVERYTHING you want! And you have your opportunity right in front of you! Go and call your girl.”

Jack didn't have a chance to respond as his phone vibrated in his hand to see that it was a facetime call from you.

“Look at his face, it's her!”

“ANSWER IT!”

Once your face popped up on the screen, Jack could tell that you had been crying and immediately asked why you were upset.

“Buttercup, what's going on?”

“Are you by yourself? Because this can't wait.”

“Give me a minute.” Jack responded as he left the room to walk down the hallway.

Once he was in a secluded corner, he asked you to tell him what was going on.

In response you simply switched the camera view to show a piece of paper and the section that was highlighted on it.

Jack's jaw had now hit the floor.

He had to read it multiple times to make sure he had read it right.

“Is that? Is that real?” He quietly asked and you got a dumbfounded look on your face as you turned the camera back to you.

“That was a dumb question. I'm sorry, but how?”

“She's saying that when I did it the first time, it's possible that it was too early and that's why.”

“Fuck.”

“That's all you have to say?” You asked catching a slight attitude because you were growing increasingly annoyed.

“I just… I'm surprised that's all and I definitely wasn't expecting this.” Jack said, attempting to plead his case.

“And I was?”

“Y/N, please. The last thing I want to do is fight with you. We're going to get through this.”

“There is no we in this unless we're together and last time I checked, we weren't. And keep in mind that was your choice. You left when I needed you the most and didn't even think twice about it. You saw that I was hurting and what did you do? Decide that it wasn't the best idea for us to be together even though you knew how bad I wanted to be.”

“Buttercup….”

“I'll talk to you later I guess.”

“Wait!”

Before he could get another word in, you hung up the phone.

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow angst #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concept #jack harlow fluff

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lucidlivi · 9 months

Text

Fur and Fate

Requested: @deans-spinster-witch

Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @hzllxhoundxx @kmc1989 (I have my tag lists all messed up lol I'm very sorry if I missed you!)

Warnings: PTSD, Violence, Language, Service Dog Use, Trauma, Demonic Possession

switching point of view will be indicated with italics

*I just want to state a disclaimer that I am not an expert on PTSD or Service Dog Use, I did consult with someone who knows more than I do in order to write it to be more real/fair representation!

I took a deep breath trying to calm my erratic heart rate. I stared at the hooded figure walking in the grocery store parking lot. I felt a nudge against my hand, then another, a little more forceful this time.

I looked down just in time to see my service dog Sammy nudging me with his nose, trying to get me to walk away from the window. He puts his paw on my leg, trying to give me a forceful push.

I let Sammy lead me away from the window to one of the aisles. I once again tried to calm my breathing. I was trying to remember the mindfulness exercises that my therapist had taught me, but I was already spiraling at this point.

I shut my eyes tight trying to block out the images of that fateful night.

"goodnight mommy." I whispered as she tucked me in.

"goodnight my love."

"mommy?" I called before she could leave.

"yes my love?"

"when's daddy coming home?"

At eight years old I didn't understand that Daddy left for good and he wasn't coming home. He didn't love us anymore.

"I don't know my love, let's just try to get some rest." Mom said kissing my forehead once more.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin, giving my mom one last smile. I saw her switch on my night light as she exited my room. I never had a problem falling asleep. I was out within minutes, dreaming of princesses and unicorns.

I jumped hearing a loud thud coming from downstairs. I sat up rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"mommy?" I called out in the darkness.

I heard more thumping coming from downstairs. I got up, grabbing my unicorn night light, before descending down the staircase.

"mommy?" I called again.

I walked in to the living room, seeing a man standing over my mom. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt so I couldn't see his face.

"baby run!" I heard mommy call out weakly.

I couldn't run.

I felt like my little legs were glued to the spot.

I watched in horror as the hooded figure stabbed my mom with a knife. I felt blood splatter on my face as the figure yanked the knife from her body before plunging it back in. In an instant mommy was thrown against the wall, and her body became engulfed in flames.

"mommy no!" I cried.

I'll never forget what happened after, and to this day, nobody believes what I saw.

I backed up in fear, my back hitting the bookshelf. I watched the hooded figure turn around, giving me a chance to look at his face. I tried to get a good look at him, but the only thing I saw were his eyes.

Black, and not just the irises.

No, the entire eye was pitch black.

He stared at me giving me a sickly sweet smile.

"I'll be back for you."

Those were the last words I heard before the figure disappeared.

I sat frozen in fear until I was being pulled out of the house by police officers.

I knew my mommy was gone.

I lived every day in fear of the man, his words haunting me.

I was asked to come to the police station to make an id on the suspect police were sure committed the crime, but it wasn't any of the men they brought in.

I didn't see black eyes.

Of course nobody believed the testimony of a terrified eight year old.

Mom's case ran cold, and was eventually forgotten about altogether.

Not by me though.

I felt like any day the man would be back for me.

I got the hell out as soon as I turned sixteen.

I've been living on my own since.

I eventually met a friend who told me to seek out therapy.

PTSD is what they call it. It stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was the poster child for it, it seems.

I witnessed my mother being murdered by a black eyed man.

I couldn't go out anywhere without feeling like I was going to run in to the man with black eyes. I feared for my life every second of every day.

I felt exceptionally triggered any time I saw a person with their hood up.

I felt paws digging in to my leg again. Sammy was pushing on me, alerting me that I needed to sit down so he could help me. I sat down, leaning my back against the shelf. Sammy climbed on to my lap, and leaned in to my chest, putting pressure on me. I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing tightly.

I worked on controlling my breathing, reminding myself that I am safe. It took awhile, but I eventually calmed myself down with deep breathing exercises. Sammy, noticing I was much calmer now licked my face before climbing off my lap.

I got up stretching my muscles. I was always so exhausted after an episode.

I just wanted to pay for my groceries at this point and go home. I grabbed my basket that I had dropped in my episode. I went to turn around, accidentally clamoring in to a hard chest.

"oh gosh, I'm so sorry." I heard a deep voice say.

I looked up, my eyes landing on the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Green eyes pierced my own, as I gazed at his facial features. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks. He licked his lips, bringing my attention to them.

"no, I'm sorry I wasn't watching where I was going." I managed to squeak out.

I was weary of most people, but this man seemed gentle, and harmless. I couldn't deny there was something about him that just seemed safe.

"are you okay?" the mystery man asks.

I chuckled softly.

I don't think I even knew the meaning of being okay.

I haven't been okay in awhile.

I was about to respond when Sammy went over to the mystery man, sniffing him, before nudging his hand. Sammy was specifically trained not to do this when he was working, but for some reason he really wanted attention from the mystery man.

"well hi buddy." the man said leaning down and scratching under Sammy's chin.

Sammy's tail wagged with delight. It seems that Sammy thought he was harmless too.

"I'm sorry, he doesn't ever do that, he's trained not too." I said, my cheeks going red.

He probably thought I had no control over my service dog.

"oh, should I not be petting him? I apologize, I didn't know." the man said standing up quickly.

"no, no its okay, he likes you." I laughed as I watched Sammy lay down so the stranger could scratch his belly.

"well I would love to know his name, and yours?" the man asked, once again giving Sammy the attention he craved.

"I'm (y/n), and this is Sammy." I said.

I watched the strangers eyes light up with amusement.

"Sammy huh? I have a Sammy too."

"you have a dog named Sammy?" I asked.

"well he's sort of like a dog, doesn’t sit or stay very well." the stranger answered, making me confused.

"Dean, what the hell I've been...." I heard a voice start to say but he tapered off when he saw me.

"meet my Sammy." the stranger, who I'm now learning is named Dean says with a laugh.

I saw the other man roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Hi, I'm Sam." He said shaking my head.

"(y/n)." I answered returning his hand shake.

Sammy didn't brush against his hand for a pet. It seems that he only did it for Dean.

"I should uh be going gentleman, sorry again for bumping in to you Dean." I spoke grabbing Sammy's leash.

I never stayed in one place for too long, it was far too risky.

"It was my fault." Dean was quick to defend.

Sammy nudged Dean once more earning a scratch behind the ear.

"see ya Sammy, take care of your mom." Dean said giving Sammy one last pet.

I smiled at the pair, heading to the front to pay for my groceries. I was relieved to see that the hooded figure was gone. I put my groceries up to scan, glancing around furiously at my surroundings.

It was something ingrained in me to do. It was my flight or fight response.

I had to make sure I had a way out of every situation.

I took note of all of the emergency exits.

I handed the cashier my money, quickly collecting the bags in my arms. I grabbed Sammy's leash heading towards my pickup truck. I saw Sammy stop abruptly, his hackles rising to signify something wasn't quite right. I glanced around the parking lot, but nothing caught my eye.

"what is it boy?" I panicked.

Sammy started to whine, putting his head in the crook of my knee to push me towards the truck. I felt my heart start to race. I quickly got in the seat, allowing Sammy to jump in beside me. As I started the truck I saw a figure illuminated in the headlights. I felt fear course through my body.

It seemed like the figure was staring directly at me.

I put a hand in Sammy's fur trying to calm my heart rate.

I saw the figure step closer, the light illuminating more of it's features. I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my chest.

Black Eyes.

"no, no." I started to cry.

He had found me.

I jumped as a hand started banging on my window. I snapped my head to the side seeing Dean standing there. I quickly turned my head back to where the black eyed man stood but he was now gone.

"(y/n) are you okay?" Dean asked opening the door.

I felt the air leave my lungs as I stared at the empty spot. I felt like my chest was burning from the lack of oxygen. Sammy noticing my breathing become heavier made his way to my lap, putting pressure against my chest. I dug my fingers in to his fur trying to calm my erratic heart rate.

"you saw it before didn't you?" Dean asked, voice laced with concern.

"my.mom." I managed to choke out between heavy breaths.

Dean ran a hand down my back trying to help me calm myself. I would've thought it a sweet gesture if I wasn't completely losing my shit right now.

I didn't know what got me more scared, the fact that it found me or the fact that it was real.

I wasn't crazy, at least I got that closure.

I buried my face in Sammy's fur going through my deep breathing exercises once again trying to calm myself. It felt like hours but I was finally able to slow my breathing down to an even rhythm. I looked over to see Dean still sat with me.

"that thing killed my mom, and now I think it wants to kill me." I voiced my concerns.

Dean gave me a look, like he knew more than he was letting on.

"it's called a demon." Dean spoke.

A demon? I didn't know what I expected but it certainly wasn't that.

"like one of those things from hell?" I scoffed.

"exactly that, look I know it sounds crazy but I can help you." Dean said.

"you're right you sound completely crazy." I growled looking at him.

I thought Dean looked gentle and safe but in reality I didn't know him at all. He could be insane for all I know. He was sounding that way with all this talk about demons.

"look you don't live in the world you think you do, okay, there are things out there, things that you wouldn't think exist but I promise you they do." Dean said.

"Dean I really can't do this right now." I said trying my best to leave the situation.

"you know in your heart that this is something more, you just don't want to believe it." Dean said adamantly.

"please, let me go." I cried.

"that's why you told the police a black eyed monster killed your mom." Dean spoke not daring to look me in the eyes.

"how the hell do you know that?" I growled, suddenly fearful of this stranger.

"I read the police report." Dean said looking suddenly guilty.

He's read about me.

He knew me.

I thought running in to him was fate, but that wasn't the case at all.

It was planned.

"go to hell Dean." I spit at him.

Dean sighed backing away from the truck. I slammed the truck door, leaning my head on the steering wheel. I sobbed, feeling like the world was slowly closing in on me.

Dean was right.

I knew this was something more.

But a demon?

No.

It can't be.

Can it?

Plus who the hell even was this guy?

He read my file.

Was he a detective?

Why help now?

Surely detectives don't believe in demons.

I pulled out of the parking lot, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out.

Dean

"way to go genius why'd you bring up the police report?" Sam asked stepping out of the shadows.

"I don't know, I was trying to help." I said running a hand through my hair.

I didn't know why this girl was having such an effect over me.

Maybe I did.

"Dean, we had a plan why didn't you stick to it?" Sam grumbled.

"you didn't exactly follow through to your part either, considering the bastard got away." I growled at my baby brother.

"Dean, I get you want to help this girl but..." Sam started but I cut him off.

"Sam, that's just it, you don't get it! I watched mom die, okay, I know the pain she feels every single day. I watched her die and there was nothing I could do." I yelled, feeling the emotions wash over me.

"Dean you were just a kid, what were you supposed to do?"

"I couldn't do anything then, but I can do something now."

Sam nodded his head in understanding.

I had a good feeling this demon could lead us to the yellow eyed demon that killed mom.

I expected to meet her, I planned it.

I knew she could help us catch this thing.

I didn't expect her to tug on my heart.

Sam and I hopped back in the impala driving back to the motel. I couldn't shake this feeling like something bad was going to happen. Although lately I felt that way all the time. It was like I was living in a nightmare, and no matter how hard I fought I just couldn't bring myself out of it. I threw my jacket down angrily.

"I feel like this bastard is always a step ahead of us." I growled, crashing on to the uncomfortable bed.

Sam was about to respond, but we heard a light scratching on the door.

"what could that be?" Sam wondered aloud.

"one way to find out." I said grabbing my pistol.

Sam grabbed his, slowly opening the door.

I was shocked to find Sammy. I looked around, noticing (y/n) wasn't with him. I felt fear in the pit of my stomach. Sammy was whining, circling around.

"I think he wants us to follow him." I said to Sam.

Sam gave me a look of concern before nodding his head. Sammy started to walk away, Sam and I hot on his trail. He led us down the road to a worn down apartment complex. I instantly noticed her truck. It was still running, and her groceries were on the ground.

"Dean this doesn't look good." Sam said noticing the scene too.

Sammy whined, pawing at my leg. I bent down wrapping my arms around him.

"I promise boy I'll find her." I said giving him a hug.

Sammy wiggled out of my arms, going towards a door and starting to paw at it.

"I don't like this Dean." Sam warned as I walked towards the door.

I ignored him, hesitantly trying the handle. It was unlocked.

I swung the door open, but the room was pitch black, leaving no visibility.

"Dean." I heard her voice say.

"I'm here, where are you?" I asked whipping around in the darkness.

I heard a sickening chuckle as the room illuminated. (y/n) stood in the corner, but I could tell it wasn't (y/n).

"leave her body now." I growled, as her once beautiful colored eyes flashed black.

"I don't know what you're talking about Dean? It's me."

"leave her body." I growled once again.

"or what? I mean you can't kill me, no because that would mean she'd die too, and you don't want that do you Dean?" the demon taunted.

the demon was right.

If I tried anything she'd die too.

"besides, I can help you."

"yeah like I'm stupid enough to trust you." I growled as the demon possessing her body started to circle me.

"I mean if you don't want to know why your mom died I guess that's your loss. I can tell you though, this one, her daddy made a deal he couldn't cash, and would you believe he traded the lives of his wife and his daughter, what kind of a man does that? I mean your mother wasn't innocent either."

I felt my blood boiling in anger.

"you don't know what the hell you're talking about." I spit.

I tensed as the demon came up, using her hand to rest on my cheek.

"oh but I do."

I grabbed her by the throat, pinning her to the wall. It hurt me to do, but I had to remind myself she wasn't herself right now.

"shut up, and let her go." I growled.

"you know you're hot when you're angry."

In a split second she had her hand on my throat throwing me to the ground. I landed with a thud, causing her to laugh.

"oh Dean this is just too easy."

"where's the yellow eyed demon." I growled.

"in a place you'll never find."

"so he's sending you to do his dirty work, is that it?" I growled.

"kind of like that, but we all have our own personal vendettas."

I could see out of the corner of my eye Sam drawing a devil's trap. I needed to lure her out there.

"let her go, or else."

"or else what, you can't kill me, I thought we were past this."

It was now or never.

I stood up slowly as she paced around me.

"you're right, I can't kill you, but that doesn't mean I can't trap you."

As soon as the words left my lips, I tackled her body out of the door, right in to the trap. I moved out of the way as the demon stood up angrily, unable to move.

"what did you do to me?"

"it's called a devils trap, and now we're going to make you leave whether you want to or not." Sam growled.

I started reciting the latin words that would exercise the demon from her body. I felt a pang of guilt as she thrashed around with each word I spoke.

I spoke the final line, and the demon left her body, causing her to collapse to the ground. Sam took the book from my hands reciting the next part of the exorcism to send the demon back to hell where it belongs. I ran into the devils trap picking up her body, just as Sam spoke the last line sending the demon back to hell.

"Sam get me a cold washcloth." I yelled cradling her limp body.

Sam ran inside the apartment, returning quickly with what I asked for. I put it to her forehead dabbing lightly while shaking her awake.

"come on, wake up." I pleaded shaking her harder.

Reader

"I won't take your life, just your soul."

I could only remember those words being spoken before I awoke with a jolt. I touched my body making sure I was still alive, and most importantly still me. I glanced up seeing the concerned eyes of Dean.

"Dean?"

"Oh thank god you're back." He sighed in relief.

I tried to sit up but it felt like my joints were on fire.

"Easy, you'll be sore for awhile, I uh kind of had to tackle you." Dean said rubbing his neck nervously before helping me sit up.

"what the hell happened to me?" I asked.

Dean explained everything.

Demons, possession, exorcisms.

It would have been pretty unbelievable if I hadn't just lived through it. He explained the deal my father made.

A deal with the devil.

I couldn't believe that my mom was gone because of him. I just hoped wherever he was, he was paying too.

Dean explained that he saw his mom die at the hands of a demon too. I felt my heart sink as he explained that he's spent all this time looking for the thing that killed her.

I gazed at him, seeing the broken person that lay underneath this tough facade.

Dean watched his mom die too. He was just as broken as I was.

I put my hand to his cheek gently caressing it with my thumb.

"Dean, you saved me."

"I had a little help." Dean said glancing towards the truck.

Sam opened the door, allowing Sammy to run out into my arms. He was wagging his tail like crazy, licking over my face.

"I missed you too boy." I smiled hugging him tightly.

Sammy jumped on Dean causing Dean to chuckle. He reached down scratching him.

"I guess it was a little bit of fur and fate." I whispered biting my lip.

"fur and fate huh?" Dean whispered, suddenly much closer than before.

"I didn't really believe in fate, but then again I didn't really believe in demons either." I said.

"and what now?"

"now, I believe I want you to kiss me." I whispered taking in his intoxicating scent.

"I can do that." Dean whispered leaning in.

I don't know if it was fur or fate, but whatever it was, I was thankful.

and for the first time since I was eight years old, I felt okay.

Author Note:

I'm sorry it took me so long to finish! I really hope you liked it! I'm forever grateful for all the love!

xoxoxo

Liv

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #sam and dean #sam winchester #spn #spn reader insert #request

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

Note

AITA for the way this friendship ended?

It's over and done now but I still feel guilty. I met this person on tumblr years ago, like ten, and we got close, sort of big sister/little sister sort of thing since we had a bit of an age gap, I would try to give advice, we sent each other parcels, that sort of thing. Last summer, I even flew to visit them for quite a few days and we had a really good time. They confided in me about being nonbinary and after I went home, I spent more and more time every day sort of fielding...their drama. About their family and their mental illness and their gender identity, they sort of just spouted it all out and I tried my best to be really supportive and not put them down even when it was complaining about how their parents got takeout from the wrong place. (Yes, a rant that I received at least once a week.)

It got worse from there. I ended up staying up until 3am, 4am, having these long text conversations about the problems in their life, and since they talked about suicidal (and I talked them down SEVERAL times during the course of our correspondence) I never disagreed with what they were complaining about, even if I did think they were actually in the wrong. I didn't want to upset someone who seemed in a very delicate place.

Anyway, one morning I wake up and they're telling me they want to make a cake to reveal their gender identity to their parents. Specifically a blue and white and pink cake. I asked why they wouldn't use the colors for the nonbinary flag, since that was, until that moment, what they had always told me they identified as, and they got really mad, said I was transphobic, didn't message me until later to inform me that after telling their therapist what I had done, they could move on. So I was a little confused since it seemed that they had decided they weren't nonbinary anymore, and this argument started over a hypothetical cake. Also I was a little frustrated that they had--the night before--given me the list of things they were going to talk about with their therapist and instead spent that time complaining about me, who at that point was so sleep-deprived from staying up late every single night just trying to keep them from feeling suicidal...idk I was frustrated.

Anyway, after a few days, they contacted me, and I told them that I couldn't keep doing the whole sounding board thing. I couldn't just be the person they complained at, and it wasn't fair to me that they were placing so much stress on me every time they would talk about being suicidal and use me as a way to come down instead of someone in their house who could actually physically be there. I also admitted that I would lie to them and say I agreed with their complaints because I wanted them to stay happy with me and not feel attacked. They replied that I was obviously very untrustworthy and we could no longer have any sort of relationship because of what I had done. And we basically cut all contact. They deleted all their social media and I was forbidden from texting/emailing them so I literally have no idea if someone I cared enough about a year ago to spend the money to fly to visit is still alive.

I just don't know. I feel super guilty about it all and AITA for this? I thought I was doing my best to be supportive but I just screwed everything up and lost a ten year friendship because of a make-believe cake.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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spamhappyface · 2 years

Text

Aromatic Summer| H.P.

Pairings: Harry James Potter x Fem!Reader Word Count:2.1k

WARNINGS: SMUT, praise kink, oral (m receiving, slightly aggressive) deep throat, kinda sir kink! Sub!Harry (kinda) Dom!reader Characters are of age! Plotless…

It wasn't a surprise that Amy's mother, Teresa, sometimes didn't treat her like a typical teenager. Teresa had made the decision to send Amy to Privet Drive for the summer to take care of Harry after the recent incident. Amy and Harry were more than just friends; they had lost their virginity to each other a couple of months ago. However, they had agreed to keep their relationship strictly platonic since then.

A lot had changed since Harry became the Hogwarts champion for the Triwizard Tournament. The death of Viktor Krum, Amy's childhood best friend, had left her in shock. She had witnessed his lifeless body during their duel, and it had deeply affected her. Despite being only fifteen years old, Amy's mother somehow expected her to play the role of Harry's therapist, even though it wasn't her responsibility.

Amy believed her mother was joking when she approached Mr. Dursley with a card from Dumbledore at King's Cross Station. The card stated that she would be spending two weeks with the Dursleys since Teresa was Harry's godmother. The Dursleys, filled with apprehension after reading the card, reluctantly agreed to accommodate Amy.

Meanwhile, the last thing Amy wanted was to spend her summer with abusive Muggles like the Dursleys, who seemed to be just as bad as her own mother, if not worse. The initial days with Harry were far from what she had anticipated. Amy longed for solitude and craved being in the comfort of her own home, or at least with her parents and her little sister. Being at Privet Drive felt like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

Despite her disdain for the Dursleys, Amy knew how to mask her true feelings and behave appropriately in front of ignorant Muggles. She had grown up in the North American Magical community and had attended Ilvermorny, giving her a unique perspective and a deeper understanding of Muggle life, including political views. She had engaged in many insightful debates with the Dursleys, or so she thought, until a particular conversation she had with Harry.

"To be fair, Amy, you look alright, but..." Harry started, trying to convince her to wear something else.

"I know,” she said happily.

"Why don't you try my jacket?" he suggested casually, fetching it from his wardrobe.

"Are you joking?!" she exclaimed, giggling. "We're... how hot is it?"

"Dunno!" Harry raised his voice for a moment before calming down. "Look, it's just that I reckon you should wear something different. Dudley's mates are proper wankers. They're bound to say something, and you know we don't want to get into any bloody trouble—"

"Oh, come on, Harry. It's just a sundress. My mom bought it for me, she chose it, and I'm going to wear it. I look hot and—" Amy said firmly to Harry, then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was surprised. "Oh, Merlin's beard! Why don't I have a boyfriend or something? I would totally date myself, damn..."

Harry seemed a bit bewildered by her comment but carried on expressing his concerns.

"Yeah, and you look lovely. Look, Amy, you're stunning. You've got a beautiful smile, gorgeous eyes, stunning hair, and a brilliant personality. But I'm dead serious, please. I'm saying this 'cause I care about you, and those blokes are daft as a brush. They even smoke weed, and sometimes they— I don't wanna get in any trouble for defending you."

"Oh, Harry," Amy said, her cheeks slightly reddening. "Thanks for the compliments, but I know how to handle myself. You don't have to worry about it. Come on, let's go swing!"

“But you’re wearing a dress–”

Unexpectedly, Amy lifted her dress up to her belly, revealing a pair of black spandex shorts.

“It’s called shorts, you know?” she said a bit annoyed by his behavior, putting it down again.

Amy stormed out of Harry's room, filled with anger, and stomped her way downstairs with Harry trailing behind her. As they descended, Amy couldn't help but notice the way Mr. Dursley was staring at her, causing her to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Mrs. Dursley, on the other hand, seemed to be giving her a deathly glare as they continued their stride.

"Where are you two off to, then?" Mr. Dursley inquired, his tone almost gleeful.

"The park," Harry responded icily, heading towards the door, while Amy offered a forced smile, feeling awkward under the scrutiny.

"Are you really letting her go out like that? People will start asking questions!" Mrs. Dursley muttered with disapproval.

"Let them, dear. Let the lad have some normal company. The girl looks perfectly normal to me. Besides, now they'll think the boy's managed to find himself a girlfriend!" Mr. Dursley retorted.

"Then, aren't you going to say something to her?! That dress is simply..." Mrs. Dursley began, her voice trailing off.

"I'm not her father, dear. She can wear whatever she pleases. And... it's not like I care enough to notice," he murmured the last part, barely audible.

Amy quickly realized that her physical appearance was one of the main reasons why Mr. Dursley treated her with a bit more kindness. She overheard their conversation without much effort, as they weren't exactly discreet with their voices. However, she didn't care. She loved the blue floral sundress and how it made her feel. Yes, she attracted some unwanted attention from older men with their stares and whistles, but she refused to change herself for them. It wasn't the first time she had experienced such behavior, and she wasn't about to let it dictate her choices.

Throughout their days together, Amy and Harry found themselves engaged in similar activities—going to the park and returning home. It was only for a two-week period, as Amy's mom would soon come to pick her up, and she eagerly anticipated that moment. It wasn't that Amy was being selfish regarding Harry's well-being; it was simply that she believed she needed to help herself before she could effectively assist him. However, after a few days, she pushed her own emotions aside to be there for Harry, to listen to his feelings, and yes, even their shared hormones often made it difficult to maintain control.

For Amy, life was too short to wait around for Ron forever, pondering whether or not he liked her. So it was either him or his best friend.

"Can I?" Harry gasped, his chest heaving, their conversation interrupted by kisses.

Constant friction was made in her entry for her little shorts of spandex against Harry’s old jeans, the hot summer wasn’t helping these two teenagers without the supervision of serious adults who actually could take care of them. Amy smirked at his comment while she kept making circles on his dressed cock, taking his wrists desperate to put them directly in her tits. Harry gasped one more time between the frantic kisses, he was in heaven.

“You like it?” she asked vigorously.

“Y- Yes… I like it” he said breathless “I love it”

Amy smiled at his answer, moving his wrists to her hips. A more confident Harry moved his hands a bit more where her butt cheeks were squishing them, Amy go faster at her pace and harry got his hands under the fabric of her spandex shorts.

“You’re not wearing any underwear?” he asked briskly.

“Maybe, I don’t know. Is that a problem?” she asked teasingly.

“No, no. it’s better like that… Unless you don’t–”

“Are you asking me to have sex with you, Mr. Potter?” she asked naughtily.

Harry was speechless for the first time in a long time, of course, he wanted to, he would be mental if he didn’t want to. His jaw dropped for the small he felt for Amy’s buoyancy and self-assure she had.

“Y- yes…” he tumbled.

“Oh, Mr. Potter you don’t have to be shy with me. I’ll do whatever you want, how can I help you?” she asked with her eyes fixed on him, now touching slowly above the fabric of his jeans in his cock, getting slowly under the cloth.

“Amy, I don’t have any contraceptives…”

She knew it would be dumb if she says, «Don’t come inside me», there was still a little percentage of her getting pregnant for a normal teenager, but she wasn’t normal, first of all, she was a witch and the assistant of Madame Pomphrey in the hospital wing that had though her a lot of stuff.

“It’s ok, just don’t come inside of me, Harry. And we have to be quiet, right?”

Harry nod hurriedly his head in understanding.

“Are you ok with not coming inside of me, Harry?” she smirked innocently.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s ok, Amy,” he said panting. “. Everything you do it’s ok”

“Really?” she asked, and he nodded in response “so, it’s ok if I just…” she raised her eyebrows, going down on him.

Her soft hands traveled under his shirt gently caressing his naked abs, leaving him wanting more, with a high libido. Amy left him a few small kisses in it and Harry looked at her to realize that she was doing a path in which he was dying of pleasure in a desperate way for his panoramic view and his sensitive skin. Sitting on his lap while her curly hair fell over her face while wet kisses ran through his abs. Harry took her soft hair into a messy bun, letting her long eyelashes and soft kisses do the job, his chest grew rapidly, warming up from the girl’s kisses. And when she finished, Harry observed that she had traced a heart in his abs, it caused him so much pleasure to feel her on his lap that he made his head back, pushing his cock a little towards the entrance of the girl, who had liked the reaction while licking her lips, making more friction on her clitoris circling against Harry’s cock. He lifted her black orchid sundress to her belly, caressing it as she lowered the spaghetti straps of her shoulders.

“Can I, do it?” she asked beautifully.

“Please, Amy,” he begged.

Passing the button on his jeans to the back, unbuttoning it, almost slow burning for Harry’s needs and desires; his heartbeat had increased almost dangerously, even though it wasn’t the first time he had done something intimate with Amy – it would be his second time – he just felt the same excitement that the first time.

In the past, Harry had no idea what he was doing, he just lived in the moment, and every time he was with her, he felt out of the world. As of now, he was begging her to suck him and fuck him too.

“Are you sure, Harry? Do you want me to do it?” she asked, caressing with her hand the bulge of Harry’s pants, the cotton fabric was giving it a better sensation.

“Please Amy, just do it, please”

“Hm…” she pretends to think about it for a second, her belly was asking her for something else just than fingers, desperately for something thicker, Harry’s cock.

“Please, I need you, I want you!”

She smiled at him, satisfied “Well, there’s a lot of people who need me…”

“Please, Amy, I want you!”

She smirked mischievously rolling her eyes, noticing that the sunset was happening, and the beautiful sun was hiding behind the horizon.

“Ok, I’m gonna help you, Harry. D’ you want that?”

“Yes, that’s what I want, please! It hurts!”

Amy shook her head smiling, with the help of harry hip trusting to take down his jeans and then his pants, showing the now awake cock of harry, it had a little curve that make it go up to his abs, and a bit of white precum was on the tip of it a little bushy but Amy didn’t care at that moment, his cock was hard and ready to be in action. She took it with one of her hands and the other massaging Harry’s thigh, spitting in his cock almost immediately, stroking it briefly.

“Oh my god… Amy, just like that!” Harry gasped.

Stroking in it up and down with no mercy in the fast that harry would come with the visual he had of her boobs falling in front of him, not letting her go making pressure with his legs.

“Just take it out all on me”

“Oh, darling…” Harry groans “you do it so good… you take me so well”

And for some reason that motivated Amy to put it in her mouth, suck it and taste it with her tongue ‘salty’ she thought. Going up and down as her eyes start to fill with tears, sometimes she never thought about, was Harry pushing her head down to his hard venous cock.

“Ah… keep going!” harry bellowed, pushing her head harshly to his cock “that’s it, there… there”

Amy didn’t even complain about this, she was turned on, that she was masturbating with harry knee going in infinite circles. But before Harry could come, he took off her mouth his cock, switch the position quickly with a close of eyes, and cum in Amy’s belly. Groaning and gasping about how good it was, landing in front of her, kissing her lips

“You did it soo good, darling, so good. Good girl”

And that turned something on inside of Amy, maybe the way he quickly switches her to the bottom of the bed or the way he had talked to her.

“Did I, Mr. Potter?”

#harry potter #hogwarts #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #harry james potter #harry potter series #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry james potter smut

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intoloopin · 7 months

Text

A PRELUDE: THE OTHER NIGHT I CRIED THINKING ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH YOU.

TWs: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. An intrusive thought about committing sexual harassment gets troughfully examined (it's 100% an intrusive thought, Haruki does not act on it at any moment). Very direct references to past sexual abuse of a character. NSFW in general. Panic attack symptoms such as crying, shaking and depersonalization. Invasion of personal space and disruption of sleep (yes. that’s important.). Also some internalized homophobia, but only if you squint. Also, it's sad, very very sad. If any other warnings flew over my head, don't hesitate to tell me.

word account: 1,152 words.

characters: Fukunaga Haruki. Dylan Hwang / Hwang Chihoon. Choi Sangwon.

dated from: mid 2022.

author's note: So, I am experimenting with style a lot these days, and this was supposed to be a private writing exercise for me and me only, but I believe it turned into a pretty insightful character study, and that it'll be pretty useful moving forward to have this piece out. It sets the tone of the blog well enough (a problem I had with my old blogs was that the writing and the vibes always felt so disconnected, it was lowkey hilarious), so if similarly themed writing to this is not something you want to see, feel free to block/unfollow/non-interact, no hard feelings at all. Also: english is not my first language! This text in particular was originally written in brazilian portuguese and translated by myself to english.

You're vaguely aware that there are more decent ways of going through 'this sort of thing'. 'This sort of thing', in your book, translates to falling apart, coming undone, having a small death, as most things in your book tend to circle back to as of lately.

If you were locked inside a bathroom with the shower running cold, resting your forehead against the cooler tiles, it would be all fair game, and you could get done with it, freely liberating tension off your shoulder blades without acquiring any new guilt, without being watched.

But there's a living breathing person near your space. They could hear you making noise, see you, take note of you, join you, leave.

All fair game, as well, up until they leave.

You're thinking about crying just as much as you're thinking about sex. You've learned some years back that often enough, one follows the other in Siamese fashion. You've been made fully aware a week ago that they're not as intrinsically connected as you make them out to be.

It doesn't have to always be like this, your brain reminds you through a vivid thought. The thought keeps on going, takes a curve: but it has always been like this, with you, so this is how it'll go.

The situation your mind constructed is as it follows:

You would have your own cock on your right hand, left hand shoved into your mouth, eyes set on the silhouette by your side, separated by five steps and a half and another bed, both your expressions blank, the world quiet, compliant.

Chihoon would look asleep, but he would be awake. And you would know that because you have watched him sleep every night for months, and his shoulders and brows don't tense when he's even lightly napping. It would make you feel nothing.

Now, he breathes through his open mouth. In your head he stays silent, plays dead, plays you.

When you changed roommates, you chose to stay with the side of the bedroom that used to be Sangwon's. You told Dylan your legs got cold and you didn't like being so close to the vents, and that was all that was, all there would ever be – but in actuality, you have cultivated a morbid curiosity in putting yourself in Sangwon's shoes.

You understand that's not what your therapist had in mind when she suggested you practiced empathy, but that's what you do now: you change thought perspectives as if they were TV channels.

You blink and think that Dylan is now you and you're so many different people you might as well not have a face. (So this is how you saw me, you want to tell them, one by one. You saw me small.)

You blink and you're close to crying, ugly crying, head shoved in your pillow crying.

Sex with you was never good, but sex with you was never about being good, or about getting there, getting someone there. It had always been something taunted sinister by the fact that it was you inside your own body – a dead cat wrapped in gift paper.

You could never make them laugh with their full chest, but you always made them hard, made them wet.

You remember, like one would remember a hazy dream, the feeling of being taken over by love and fear for the very first time, always love&fear, a conjoined act, sweaty palm interlinked with another sweaty palm, bigger than yours.

You had always been the sort of kid that held their breath under the bathtub water until some numbness hit you. No interest in learning how to swim or how to keep your nose high, out of risk of drowning. Not swallowing any medicine to keep the aftermath headache away, having it sit at the crown of your head proudly, like a tiara.

People that have been carved out of precious stone and molded into sculptures, human looking but not human being things like you, were made for drowning underwater. That to you had always been factual.

That kid side of you breathes deep inside you still, hangs inside your chest somewhere you can't reach, unless provoked. He tends to jump front when you let yourself be at mercy of other people, when they hover; that part of you that knows your destiny and the sinking hurt that's integral to it.

Everytime you let a tiger come close to your open cage, you flash your neck so they can pick you up by the nape, like an animal cub, and drag you away to eat you alive in whatever area brings them privacy.

No one has ever asked you where more than once. One time you sucked a man off in a parking lot, saw cars and bikes coming in and off the corner of your eyes, and now you no longer feel like driving.

Your very own conception of privacy is even more cloudy than a dream, stripped bare of any value, rest in the same way your physical exterior has turned into rest. You outgrew this coat. You learned how to live out in the cold and can't let yourself miss feeling safe in the warmth. Can't deal with the hanging thread of the wind blowing this candle out, rain falling over it.

You take a hold of yourself by the arms in a straitjacket shaped hug, nails sinking deeper into the meat of your elbows as you abandon the covers. You feel yourself rising up almost supernaturally, sitting at the edge of the bed, feet glued to the icy ground. You feel yourself walking until the distance between you both is more or less of a single foot.

You can never sleep near someone and not marvel and bitch and get nauseous at how easy it is to choose not to hurt them.

(In the dark, nothing ever happens. You spent half of your life like this: on your knees, snot running down your nose, hidden away from the sun and all it touched. Someone somewhere told you were a night creature once, half-bat, and you still believe them.

A tree that falls where no one can see doesn't make any sound, and you used to find comfort in that, back when you knew what was making you out of breath. Back when you didn't know they'd always be someone watching.)

Hand taunted with sweat, you see yourself wipe it on his hair through astral projection, as if someone else did it. And then you start shaking and getting down, almost as if you were in front of an altar, and you press your non-working nose against his scalp. You don’t move even when you feel him move. You’re a marble structure crumbling down again, ruinning someone’s peace by reaching.

When you plead for forgiveness, your voice is an echo of the one belonging to who had you by the neck first.

#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ writing .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ haruki .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ dylan .#fictional idol community #kpop fanfic #kpop oc #kpop au #fake kpop group #when I said draft 2 was getting showcased differently I meant it!

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skinnymeanfaggot · 5 months

Note

“Lie to me then.”

HI REMEMBER THIS PROMPT CHALLENGE i struggled with this prompt because i wanted to make it firehazard for you but i had no idea where this would come into a conversation. i have a draft where they would be stuck in an elevator and tell lies to each other to pass the time, but instead you get, uh, this

"This is stupid," Anim said for the fifth time. "I'm not gonna tell you all my problems and shit. Just call Zora and say I'm cured so we can both get on with our lives."

"I can't do that," Javier said tiredly. God, he was sick of this. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're not doing better, and she's going to notice that and get pissed at both of us for it."

"Maybe she'll just get pissed at you, for being a bad therapist," Anim suggested.

Javier narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a bad therapist, Anim,” he bit out, “you just aren't cooperating with me. It takes -"

"Both of us, I know, I fucking know, but I need you to understand this, buddy, okay?" Anim sat up from the couch and looked at him with wide eyes. "I can't be fixed. You can't fix me. So quit fucking trying."

"Maybe, if you just considered opening up, for once -"

Anim started pulling at their hair in what Javier knew was distress. "Well, I'm not fucking doing that! Because whenever I try to do that I start freaking out -"

"Which means it's working," Javier cut them off. "It means you're finally letting it out."

"I thought you were supposed to make me feel better!" Anim exclaimed.

"No, I'm not supposed to 'help you feel better,'" Javier said slowly. "I'm supposed to help you make yourself feel better -"

"By telling you all this embarrassing and revealing shit from my childhood?! I'm not fucking doing that!" Anim snapped.

"Fine!" Javier slammed his clipboard down, then breathed in slowly. "Lie to me, then. And lie to yourself. Keep telling yourself that things are okay, when they clearly aren't -”

“I am okay!” Anim snarled.

“You aren't!” Javier snapped. “And you know how I know that?!” Fuck, his heart was pounding in his ears. He could barely think. “It's because every fucking day I see you, it's always the same goddamn act - ‘oh look at me, I'm Anim, I'm so tough, no one can hurt me -'” he threw up his hands for effect “- but it's so fucking obvious to everyone that you aren't. You're not hot shit. You're just a scared fucking kid.”

“I'm not a kid!” Anim shrieked, rising to their feet, and oh, he's really done it now, but he was in far too deep to stop.

“You are! You haven't aged a day since I met you - literally - you're that same scared 19 year old my sister turned because she wanted a new thing to play with -”

“Don't talk about her that way!" Anim's eyes were blazing with fury, they looked like they were going to attack him -

“I'm not an idiot, Anim!” Fuck, God, he could barely breathe. “I've been used before! I know you've been used before, but you're letting her treat you like this because it's all you've ever known and you're more scared of change than you are getting better!”

Javier didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. The breath was knocked out of him as his shoulders were pinned against the wall, and he was strong but he knew he couldn't compete with their vampiric strength. Anim's teeth were bared in a snarl; they were more than furious at this point, with tears burning in their eyes, fangs out - oh, fuck, they were going to head for his neck - Javier bared his throat and waited for the end.

It never came.

There was something innately horrifying, to be fair, about attacking someone and watching them give in so easily. Javier was twice their size and yet he submitted without a second thought - that was, that was something he had to unpack, he realized - but on top of that, he could see they were starting to come to their senses and see - oh, God, they were trying to kill him -

They let go almost immediately, and a hand rose to clutch at their face. “Oh, fuck,” they breathed. “No - no, I - oh shit, I'm sorry - fuck, I didn't - I wasn't -”

“It's okay,” Javier breathed. “I know you wouldn't -”

“I can't - I - fuck - I have to go - I need - to go -” They were backing away from him like he was some wild animal, and not just some human, a pathetic human who knew he had pushed them too far, knew he had fucked up, and underneath that shame there was this sick pleasure of knowing that he got to them, he got the reaction he wanted - and he felt fucking disgusting.

Fuck. He wanted to hurt them. He wanted them to hurt him.

“Anim, I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“No, I - I - I have to go. I have to go.” Anim stared at him, at their hands, and back at him, stared at his shoulders which they both knew were bruising under his shirt where they grabbed him, and backed away.

Javier didn't look up; he only heard the door to his office click shut, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

hurt people hurt people! this takes place before some much needed character development when anim is like, 21/22 and going through the worst of their shit. and then javier isnt much better because he doesnt know how to help them with their shit because hes dealing with the exact same shit. guy who is like "you deliberately put yourself in danger because its all you know and it makes you feel normal! now im going to make you attack me!" which kind of seems to imply that someone has Done this before, and theres a reason why him not being turned was a mutual decision between him and his mother. bitches will be scared of becoming their abusers and then both act like their abusers unconsciously in fits of rage. one of my favorite things ive written lately i think. ty for this ask

#ocs

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mamamittens · 5 months

Text

Time isn't fucking real istg

Got home and pulled my laptop out, fully intending to write and what happens????

What fucking happens????

I eat dinner and open animal crossing up instead of lofi jazz.

A game I haven't played in literally 1 year and 5 months, per one of my villagers (shockingly not overrun by weeds, guess Nintendo laid off the guilt tripping). And then what happened??? I only played for less than an hour.

Haven't a single damn clue. 11 hour work days for the second 6-day workweek in a row is really fucking with me lmao

Next thing I knew, it was time to shower if I wanted my hair reasonably dry for bonnet time without it being soaked when I gotta get up for work. And my weekend is definitely shot cause no way in hell are we not working Sunday and my brother is graduating this Saturday with the degree he needs to be a licensed therapist. So we gotta get up early to drive there and damn is this month a bitch already lmao

At the very least, if memory serves, I'm only waiting on two more folks to tell me what they want for their event gift/slots. Everyone else is spoken for and in theory I should be able to actually work on them soon without worrying about stopping and waiting for anyone.

In all fairness to myself, I've got 4 hours of free time when I get home and I don't sleep nearly enough as it is. Still gotta eat and shower too...

If only those self help books didn't feel like more homework for myself....

Lets see, what's my to do list?

8 fics between Tumblr and AO3 to be completed

6 December event fics

1 October event fic (2 if I count year before)

5 December art pieces

Plan and execute gift art piece for friend who did not enter event

1 zine fic

1 zine art piece

2 zine art pieces on other zine fics

Continue reading OP from chapter... 34?

Continue Apothecary Diaries from volume 7 (great read btw, quite fun)

Continue watching OP from Baratie introduction episode

Finish reading book on Satanism

Start reading grief and death guide

Sweep and mop my floor (should be higher up list, cats keep kicking litter out of box like rude bitches)

Buy new microwave

Buy new garbage disposal

Start watching Sailor Moon or at least one of the other 8 anime seasons I have, why do I keep collecting these but opening YouTube???

Oh! Wrap gifts I do have purchased but not distributed.

Find good dirty Santa gift.

Sleep forever until not tired

Write those passion fics (untold number, I keep putting them down and forgetting about them until 7 months later)

Damn, listing everything out makes it seem both unwieldy and more manageable somehow... I don't think it's in the order it should be tho lol

Anyway! Time to at least try number 20! Ya know! For work!

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

#mittens is losing it #mittens rambles #mittens update

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nogoodthing-official · 6 months

Text

No Good Thing: Shorts

S-1: A New Beginning

Synopsis:

This is the canon story of how Brock and Maxim first meet. Since it’s not going to be gone over in the main story, I decided to make it its own short story (“short” is used very lightly here). This was incredibly self-indulgent and the writing is a little… cringy weird since I tried to make the conversations flow naturally in this, and the descriptions are a bit clunky, but I hope you’ll enjoy it regardless! If there’s anything I need to fix with my writing, don’t hesitate to let me know. And this is actually the first time I’ve done cover art for this!

This will be set in the past, so Brock is 19 and Maxim is 21 in this short.

(This is your daily reminder that they do not live on Earth)

Read:

10 years ago, Brock was a very different person. He doesn’t like to talk about his younger years, but out of everything that’s happened when he was a teenager, there was one part of it that he remembers and cherishes deeply.

When Brock was 19, he was very aloof and antisocial. Rarely looked up from the ground, rarely made eye contact, rarely laughed, rarely smiled. You could argue that he doesn’t smile much now, but you just don’t know how bad it got at one point. His eyes had dark rings under them from a lack of sleep and an overall poor sense of taking care of himself. Most of his wardrobe was bought for the sole purpose of blending in, since he hated attracting attention to himself. The entire whirlwind of stuff he had to deal with in his teenage years made his mental health worse. He didn't like talking to other people, so he didn't have any friends, aside from his previous teachers, but he felt that it was their job to like him. He was seeing a therapist, but he didn't feel like he was getting better. If anything it was calling more attention to the fact that he was not mentally stable. Not normal. His social skills were taking a toll from all of the combined mental issues, which only made his chance at making friends more and more difficult.

One day, he was sitting at the park, as per his mother urging him to take more time to be outside. He didn’t really have any plans for anything to do once he got there, so he brought his sketchbook and just spent a majority of his time drawing in the park. It was virtually the same thing that he was doing while inside, but at least it was outside this time, so it was better for him. While sitting on a picnic bench, minding his own business, drawing or doodling anything that came to his mind, he saw a shadow loom from over the right side of the table, until it fell onto his sketchbook. He didn’t acknowledge it at first, until the shadow spoke.

“Hello!”

Brock jumped a little too hard at the sudden voice. It was louder than the ambient sounds of the park. The person’s voice was very baritone, so baritone that he thought it was one of the few adults that he knew. But when he looked up at who greeted him, he had full sight of the person’s appearance, one that he could only describe as antithetical to his voice. He had a light blue sweater with denim jeans, and the shirt appeared to have colorful stickers on it, but upon closer examination were actually ironed-on patches. On his left arm, he had so many beaded bracelets of different colors and sizes that it was hard to believe that they weren’t weighing his arm down. The most eye-catching thing, however, was the hat that he was wearing. It was neon green and had long mittens that went down the side of his head, each mitten having a paw print on the palm and felt claws at the end. The top of the hat had a cat face with a pink Mohawk along with cat ears. The hat actually looked familiar. He remembered seeing it in a store, but only vaguely. Under the hat was a messy head of fluffy, dusty brown hair, complimenting his fair skin tone. The person himself was a few inches taller than Brock, but he had a much bigger frame. He was far more muscular than Brock was, but still slightly less muscular than most people he had seen before. His round, blue eyes were staring at him, waiting for a response. Brock was still taking in his overwhelming appearance. The person suddenly looked apologetically at him, after noticing how long he was silently staring at him.

“Oh, sorry, did I startle you? I forget how loud I am at times.”

Brock glanced at his sketchbook, still staring at the person.

“I just came over to see what you were doing. Uh, which, now that i’m closer, looks like drawing. Can I see?”

Brock considered his options carefully. On one hand, he had no idea who this person was or why he was talking to him, let alone why he would care about something he was doing. He might not have the best intentions. On the other hand, he willingly came up to him to talk. Out of everyone else in the park. Who knows when that would happen again?

“…sure.”

The person smiled before walking to the other side of him, sitting beside him before scooting a bit away, to give him some space. The person looked over each finished piece, as well as the occasional idle doodle or unfinished sketches in awe.

“Woww, these are really good! What did you use for these?”

Brock, not used to the praise, found it difficult to find a response. “Oh u-uh… just colored pencil, fine-tipped pen, marker, it’s not really that great, it's just what I do when i’m bored…”

“Well, it’s better than what I could do, that's for sure.”

The person looked over the sketches again and again, clearly not getting enough of it. “Man, I wish I had the patience to make something with this much detail,” he handed the sketchbook back to Brock. “The best I could do was make all of these Kandi bracelets.”

“Kandi” bracelets? So that’s what they were called… “You… made all of those?”

“Yeah!” The person beamed with pride. “I make them as a hobby. Some of my friends think it’s kinda childish, but I enjoy making them.”

Brock looked over the bracelets more carefully this time. Some bracelets had beads with letters, some had intricate patterns, some even had charms with the same character he was wearing on his hat. They personally weren’t his style, and he admittedly had to agree with his aforementioned friends, but he also had to admit, by looking at them he could tell that he obviously had lots of experience. They look like he put a lot of effort into it. It was obviously a source of pride for him. Brock decided to take that into account. “I think they look nice.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, those look like they took a long time to make. I’m glad that you can channel your creativity into a medium that you can enjoy.” Brock internally chastised himself the projection on that compliment.

“Aww gee, that's really nice of you to say. Yeah, they do take a while, and I’ve actually made a lot more than these.” He lifts and studies over his bedazzled arm with a look you’d expect from an archaeologist looking over a newly discovered fossil. “I’d have to say that these are four out of… 50 bracelets I’ve made? It’s been a while since I’ve done an actual count, but-”

“50?”

“Hahah, yeah! I actually have a few pictures of the ones I made! I started making them 3 years ago…”

Brock and the stranger talked for about 15 minutes about their art, their stories from school, their families. It was starting to get dark and the stranger had to go. As the stranger started to make his way out of the park, Brock suddenly started feeling… something. He started feeling sick. He started feeling lonelier with each step he was taking away from him. No. He didn't want to feel like this now. He was desperate for interaction, any interaction at this point. He didn’t care that he was a complete stranger. He actually engaged with him, was actually interested in what he was talking about, he treated him like a person. He wasn’t just a random stranger, he was a stranger who made him feel like what he said actually mattered to people, something he hasn’t felt in years, and now he was walking away. Who knows if he might see him again. Who knows if anyone else will even talk with him again. He was mentally screaming at himself to break out of his stupor and do something. He’s almost at the gate. Do something. NOW.

“WAIT!” Brock practically shouts at the stranger, causing him to whirl his head around towards his direction, stopping only a few feet away from the park’s exit. Brock rushed over to him from the other side of the park where he was sitting, stopping before him and doubling over to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his ears so hard that he almost couldn’t hear anything else. After a few seconds of heavy panting, his heartbeat slowing, and Maxim politely waiting, he asks him, “W-what’s your name?”

The person looked like he forgot something important. “Oh! My apologies, I guess I never really told you, huh? My name is Maxim.”

Brock took a few more seconds to catch his breath. “Maxim. Okay. My name is… Brock.”

“Nice to meet you, Brock!”

Brock nods in response, finally getting ahold of his breathing. He pored over how to ask this question without sounding desperate. “Do you… want to meet up here again? Maybe tomorrow? I mean, if you are busy or aren't feeling up for-”

Maxim chimes in immediately, obviously having the same thought. “That sounds like a great idea! It was pretty fun talking with you.” His face then brightens up with and idea in mind. “…Actually, I have another great idea!” He immediately takes out his phone and unlocks it, excitedly swiping to somewhere only he knows. “Oh wait, uh, can I borrow your phone, if you have one?” Brock takes out his phone and hands it to him. Maxim takes it and fiddles with it for a few seconds, occasionally glancing at his own phone, before handing it back to Brock. “There. Now we won’t have to come out here every time we want to talk to each other! Plus it’s just easier.” He puts away his phone and opens up the gate before starting on his way back home, pausing to say goodbye to Brock through the chain-link fence. “Hopefully we can pick our conversation up where we left off tomorrow!”

Brock just nodded in response. Maxim smiled sweetly at him before saying goodbye and making his way back home. He looks at his phone to see what he could've possibly done with it, and saw that it was opened up to his phone app…

…with Maxim’s phone number. And upon further examination, he made a contact in his text messages. He had to test this. He typed in a simple “hello” and sent it to the contact. Seconds later, he saw a response.

“;P”

It was Maxim. Holy shit.

He had a friend.

———————————————————————————————————————

It had been a few months since Brock befriended Maxim. To be honest, he didn't even know what happened to that even attract that guy to himself. He seemed like the exact opposite in personality and appearance, even in interests. But he had to admit, it was nice. He learned more about him over the rest of the year, like his other hobbies, other than bracelet making. He learned that his full name is Maxim Torres. He learned that Maxim also apparently collects these small stuffed animals, even ones that have been discontinued, and enjoys studying about scout badges. Brock has a few stuffed animals of his own, as well as ones from when he was still a baby, so as soon as he heard the phrase “stuffed animal”, he was instantly hooked. Aside from the park, they also regularly went to places that they both had interest in, like the library or the mall, and other times just played around in the more wooded areas of their neighborhood. Brock also started to notice himself acting less guarded around him, too. He would be more relaxed and act less emotionally distant than if he wasn’t around him. He felt more motivated to take care of himself and looked forward to going outside. He even started to smile more, too. He really started to look up to him and aspire to be more like him. More easygoing.

But recently, Brock also noticed weird happenings with himself. He started to find his that body acts weird when he was around him. It would get harder to find words or enunciate his thoughts around him, and would start being more quiet. Whenever he accidentally brushed against his arm or hand, his hand would react by shaking violently. Hugs usually had the same effect, but then he would just start melting into him, and almost become drowsy. There have been times where he almost dozed off when Maxim hugged him. Whenever Maxim would compliment his art or, let’s be honest, make eye contact or smile at him, his heart would start racing, usually attempting to return the smile with very little success, and hearing his voice would make the room feel hotter than it actually was. Not only that, he kept finding something that he didn’t notice about his eyes before every time he looked at them. Something that made them… nice to look at. Something that makes him feel calm when he sees them. He even started having… “dreams.” What was happening? Brock wasn't sure why this was happening to him, at first he started to think that he was starting to relapse in his behavior. But after a few days of questioning and a few weekly therapy sessions, he finally got an answer. He liked Maxim. In fact, he loved Maxim. Romantically.

He hid his feelings for a while. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Maxim in the very likely event that he didn't like him romantically. He started to distance himself from Maxim, seeing any interaction with him as a way to deepen his affection for him and make things worse, and therefore harder to ignore. He wouldn’t talk to him unless he urged him to, avoided any physical contact, and just spent the day stewing in his own feelings and thoughts. One day, while in his bed, after a long night of staring at his ceiling, he hears the chime on his phone go off, snapping him away from his trance. He checks to see who it is and tries to ignore the sickening butterflies in his stomach as he read who texted him.

Maxim.

He read the text. “Hey dude, are you okay?” Over time, he noticed that Maxim texted closer to correct grammar when he was worried about something. Brock mulled over what he should do. He started typing.

“yes”

A reply came in a few seconds later. “Meet me at the park, I wanna tell you something”

Ignoring how it was currently the middle of the night, he took a few minutes to wake up, stepped out his window, and made his way to the park. When he got there, he saw Maxim waiting at the picnic table.

“Hey, you made it! Hopefully I didn't disturb your sleep.”

Not like he could sleep. Brock found sleeping difficult after his recent discovery, so he was actually thankful for that text. He couldn't tell him every detail though. “No, you didn't.”

“I wanted to tell you about this idea that I got! I really think you'll like it!”

Brock had nothing better to do. “What?”

“A New Year's Eve party!”

Brock took a moment for his ears to catch up with his words. “…a what?”

“A New Year's Eve party!” He begins rattling off his research. “I’ve read about it online and apparently, on Earth, the year ends after it makes a full revolution around their sun, so their year is 365 days long. And as it turns out, their planet will finish its revolution tomorrow! So, how about we try and have a celebration as well, just for fun?”

Brock considered the honestly weird offer. He wasn’t interested in social events, and he hated asking if anyone else would be there, as if it would convey that whether he was interested or not based on the answer. But he had to know. “…Is anyone else going to be there?”

“No, it’ll just be a you-and-me thing. I noticed that you were kinda down lately, and I thought that this would help with that. It’ll be in my ~crafting room~,” he said the words “crafting room” with a flourish, like he always did. Brock stifled a chuckle. “And my parents will be very busy, so it’ll just be us! I know how you aren't that into crowds.”

God, he was so sweet. Brock tried to calm down his beating heart while he considered an answer. Hmm, well… if no one else will be there and the house will be empty… but… hm. You know what, why not. He never really considered how he was making him feel by distancing himself away from him, and it was the least he could do. Wasn’t that a thing normal people do? Consider how others feel? And if he was really doing all this to make him feel better… he would hate to turn him down. He focused on Maxim again and his heart almost broke. He looks like a kicked puppy. No, he couldn’t say no to this, especially with how much he spent planning it.

“…Brock?”

“…Alright, I’ll do it. What time do you want me to be there?”

Maxim visibly perked up. “11:00 P.M.!”

Brock made sure to set an alarm when he got home.

———————————————————————————————————————

At the “party”, more like a private get-together for two, it was pretty calm. It was located in the aforementioned crafting room, which looked more like a repurposed basement, but even for a basement it was pretty large. There was an old TV on a stand in front of a couch that looked older than the TV. There was a table with a lamp in the corner, as well as multiple clear containers of bracelets and beads. The floor had carpet, but the walls were pretty much uncovered. Overall, the atmosphere was surprisingly homey. Most of the time remaining was spent watching whatever was on the TV before turning it to the Earth Broadcast Channel that he had on his old TV. Maxim spent a few more minutes making more Kandi bracelets while Brock watched. It was mesmerizing to see how he made them. Overall, the entire thing was uneventful. Brock couldn't have asked for anything more.

A few minutes before the end of the year (at least on Earth), they both turned their attention back to the EBC, seeing the camera broadcasting the large crowds of people cheering, gathered in a city that, honestly, they didn't know the name of. Confetti littered the streets and there was a large structure that looked like a gigantic disco ball on top of a tall structure.

“Wow, they really take this “end of the year” thing seriously, huh?” Maxim asked.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, they really do.” Brock tried to look like he was interested in the TV, but internally he was boiling in his feelings. He didn't have butterflies anymore, he had an entire solarium. He looked over at Maxim to see if he could notice. His eyes were glued to the TV, mesmerized by a celebration that he had never seen recorded before. In that moment, Brock got an idea. Not voluntarily. This idea kept growing and growing in the back of his mind over time and got stronger every day. No matter how much he tried to push it back down to its original size, it just made it stronger. God, he hated this idea, but it was going to get out of him one way or another. After mustering as much confidence as he could with his current mindset, he turned to Maxim. “Hey, Max?”

Maxim snapped out of staring at the TV. “Yeah?”

“Ummm… I uhhhmmm…… okay, can you do something for me?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I, uhh, need you to psych me up. As hard as you can. And don’t stop doing it until I get enough courage to… do it.”

“Do what?”

“Um… you’ll know.”

Maxim happily obliged and started to speak words of affirmation to Brock. “C’mon Brock! You can do it, not exactly sure what, but i’m sure you'll be able to do it anyway!”

Brock started taking deep breaths, readying himself and praying that he can gain the courage to not choke on his own words.

“Come on!! You can do it!! Just keep breathing, you'll get there!!” Maxim was practically shouting words of encouragement by now. “Come on!! Do it, do it, DO IT!!!”

Let’s hope this works.

“DO IT! DO IT! DO I-”

“I like you!”

Maxim looked surprised for a moment, before asking him to repeat himself. “What?”

“I… like you,” Brock repeats, taking deep breaths like it took all his energy to say that. “I don’t know when these feelings started, or if they’ll ever end. I just… like being around you. You always seem to be like this, optimistic person, and I strived to be like that. I started looking up to you because of that, but I guess while I did, I also found… other reasons to like you, too. Romantically, I mean. So… I like you. And I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same way, and I didn’t want to misread the situation and… accidentally jeopardize our friendship. I’ve never had a friendship, a real one, in so long, and I just… didn’t want to ruin it so soon. So I just… kept quiet. For a while. Until now. By some random boost of confidence, I decided that I wanted to tell you how I feel about you. And regardless of if you feel the same way or not,” Brock stares at the floor. “I wanted to get this off my chest before… I wouldn't be able to.”

Brock was silent for a while, dreading the lack of words coming from Maxim’s side of the room. The silence was deafening. He could feel his ears starting to ring. He could feel the blood rush to his face as he felt like he was either going to cry or pass out. He felt sick. He didn’t want to lose Max. He didn't like losing anyone. He hated losing people. He finally started the first friendship he had since a year after he moved here, the first real friendship in years… and it was going end because he had too much reassurance in how he felt. His mind spiraled further and further into the pit of alternate choices he could've made that would’ve helped him avoid this. He could feel his heart sinking into his stomach, but before it could reach the bottom, Maxim spoke after what felt like hours.

“No way, I like you too!”

His honesty hit him like a truck and brought him back to reality. “… Really??”

“Yeah! Honestly, I feel like it was a slow progression of more and more positive feelings that I got only when I was around you. I started feeling more like hanging out with you whenever I felt sad or upset, and I would feel better as soon as I saw you. You also have this… emotional maturity that I wish I had, seeing you offer these well-put and well-thought out solutions to any problems me or my siblings or my friends have makes me wish I could have what you have that makes it look so easy. And…” Maxim starts to blush as he looks away, embarrassed. “I love making you happy… because whenever you're happy… you have this… adorable smile. Your eyes light up in a way that makes me feel… dizzy, almost. And your laughter? Oh my gosh, I feel like I could listen to it all day. It just makes me feel happier seeing you smile, but I was afraid that you weren’t romantically interested in someone like me… someone immature...”

“I was scared you just hung out with me out of pity or something!”

Maxim paused. “…Why?”

“I—” Brock thought for a moment. In his shock, he forgot about how he even came to that conclusion in the first place. “I… don’t know.”

Maxim scoots closer to Brock and reassuringly puts his hand on his. “Well, it’s okay. Looks like we were both scared of nothing, huh?”

Be still his beating heart. “Heh, yeah…” Brock stared at his feet, as a familiar uncertainty started to creep into his thoughts. Even though he pretty much outright told him, he still needed to make sure. “… do you really mean that? You actually… like-like me?”

“Yeah dude! I like-like you. I guess… I love you.”

Brock's heart was beating a mile a minute at how fast he admitted it. His blush was covering his whole face at this point. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard and it felt like the room was 100 degrees hotter. Was this real??? He suddenly focused on Maxim. His face was so close. He couldn't stop staring at his eyes. …His eyes. Those wonderfully blue eyes. Those beautifully ethereal colors. They seemed to look even more beautiful than they were before. The soothing effects of his eyes still remained, as Brock’s heartbeat finally started to slow down. It felt like the world was still, like a huge weight was off his shoulders, like he could finally breathe now, but at the same time it felt like a whole new weight was settling directly on top of his lungs that was making it hard to breathe again. His gaze slowly shifted to his lips, and he tried multiple times to keep eye contact, but his eyes felt like betraying him today. Of all days. Maxim looked confused for a moment before following where his eyes were staring at. He picked up pretty quickly on what he was thinking, blush starting to fade into his skin.

“…H-hey Max?”

Maxim clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“C-can… I, uh… uhm…,” Brock knew it was too early, he knew this was his first kiss, but he didn't care. All he wanted right now was to feel this from the only person who felt the same way. Love. But he didn't even know if Maxim even wanted to kiss eithe-

Maxim caresses Brock’s hand. “Hey, we can take this slow if you want. You look like you're about to pass out. If you're not ready yet, we don't have to kiss right now if you don't want to-”

“NO!” Brock felt embarrassed at how he practically screamed the answer. He lowered his voice. “No… I want to kiss too… but I just… feel nervous…” Brock looked at his shaking hands as Maxim gently held and squeezed them reassuringly, Brock’s heart fluttering at the simple gesture, but this time he had no reason to ignore it. His gaze traveled from his arms to his face, and he felt calm again as he saw those eyes staring back at him.

“Don’t be.”

They both slowly inch their faces closer, closing their eyes as they closed the space between them, their lips connecting into a soft kiss, as the timer on the TV reached zero. Maxim leaned closer to him to deepened the kiss slightly. Brock, obviously new to this, didn't know how to handle this but tried to mirror his movements. After a few seconds of silence were caused by the buffering broadcast, then it was broken again by the applause coming back from the televised crowd. They both pulled away from each other to catch their breath, Brock breathing harder than Maxim. His face was red from the extremely unfamiliar moment shared between the two of them. Maxim notices how much Brock was breathing, and motions for him to rest on his shoulder, and after a few more seconds of gaining his composure, he accepts the offer. He awkwardly shifts over and leans against Maxim's shoulder, his body relaxing after Maxim’s arm is draped around him.

After a few seconds of watching the live TV footage of the cheering crowds, Maxim decides to break the silence.

“So,” Maxim finally said. “How does this feel?”

Brock is silent as he takes time to consider the question. After a few seconds, he says his answer in a hushed whisper, smiling as he rests his head deeper into Maxim’s shoulder. “…perfect…”

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I hope you enjoyed this! I’ll be posting the lone cover art tomorrow morning! 🥦❤️❄️

#no good thing #shorts #original story #brock l. floret #maxim torres #writeblr #ngt shorts

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