#five years of sporty hell

[aseriesofunfortunatetexts]

incorrect ASOUE

[katiesyellowcardcollection]

ill call your mom

trigger warnings - lots of mentions of suicide and the thoughts od doing, bad mental health. please dont read if you feel you cant handle this.

AN: this was written in one siting, not the best just me getting my own feelings out in a fic of some sort

Happiness.  

You're not sure the last time you felt true happiness, maybe when you signed for arsenal when you were 10, maybe when you made your senior debut 7 years later or maybe when you were first called up to England, but you weren't happy now, you hadn't felt true happiness in such a long time that you're not sure what it feels like. You weren't sad either though, you were just empty, disconnected from the world, your family, your teammates.  

You think it's how you've ended up here, curled up in your wardrobe, pills in front of you, you're not entirely sure what pills you've even picked up, you just grabbed every single one in the medicine cupboard that Beth and Viv had been stocking up for you since your injury.  

Your injury.  

It had come at the worst possible time, you were on your way to winning the wsl with Arsenal, on the form of your life, the world cup was just round the corner and everything you'd worked so tirelessly for had come crushing down from a movement you'd done thousands of times in your career.  

You think of that day now as you swallow the pills, you think of the days leading up to it, how you hadn't been feeling quite right, Jonas wanted you to come off minutes before the injury you'd refused and then there was the pop followed by an indescribable pain, pain you'd never felt before and then nothing. You knew as it happened that your world Cup dreams were over, your season was over, everything was over.  

You think of the days after, when you couldn't get out of bed, you couldn't cry, you couldn't feel anything, you haven't felt anything since your mind constantly frozen on that night, on the movement of your knee, one movement that had ruined everything.  

Football was your lifeline, it was all you had ever known, growing up in sporty family you'd been kicking a ball since you could stand, joining a team when you were just 5 year, up until that night there hadn't been a day go past when you hadn't kicked a ball or been out on the grass doing some kind of training drill. When you were being bullied as kid, football was how you coped with it all, when the shouting and slamming doors got too much you had football and when you needed football the most you didn't have it, you didn't have an escape.  

You were struggling to breathe now, gasping for air you couldn't breathe, and you didn't care, you were content with dying, leaving everything behind, your teammates, football that was really all you had, you wondered if anyone would truly care, if your death would leave them unsettled you think your teammates would be upset but you didn't think your death would life altering for them, they only care because they have to, because your their teammate and they have to care to some extent.  

You were losing consciousness now, you hadn't expected for it to happen this quickly for the side effects of the pills you'd taken to work this fast, as you faded in and out of consciousness you felt nothing but relief, it was a feeling you'd been craving for since your injury, previously you thought youd feel relief when you stepped on the pitch for the first time since the injury, except you hadn't felt anything, not relief or joy instead it was almost like a chore being subbed on, two years after you'd first tore your acl, two years of hell, two years begging to run again, two years of wanting nothing more than to be on a pitch again, yet you felt nothing as you high fived Leah letting you onto the field again, both sets of fans applauding your return back. it was like your injury had stripped everything good about you away from you, turning you into the silhouette of the girl you used to be.  

in hindsight you should've known that Viv would come knocking when you didn't show up for dinner forgetting she owned a key to your apartment, you should've realised that when you ignored your teammates numerous calls and texts that they would come running, always wanting to help the people they loved most.  

You could hear distant banging, desperate pounding at your door, then the click of a lock, your lock, then the shouts of your teammates screaming your name, the urgency in their voices becoming clearer. 

You're not sure how they knew that something was seriously wrong, maybe it was instinct or the way your bathroom had been torn apart, the beer bottles that were scattered around your living room or maybe it was your silence.  

You should feel someone shaking you, this wasn't death, you could feel the floor of your wardrobe, the clothes hanging up above you, you weren't meant to be back here.  

You were supposed to be dead.  

You could hear someone screaming at you begging you to open your eyes. 

“Oh god y/n wake up for me” 

They were crying and shouting for help, shaking your fragile body, you wish that they would stop and shut up for one second, but you couldn't speak, you couldn't move, you were just led there, listening to their desperate cries for help.  

You wish you had taken more at that second; you didn't want to have to deal with your teammates finding out, talking about your feelings, you didn't want that, you wanted to be dead there was nothing more you wanted at that moment.  

.........................................................................................................................

You woke up to beeping, loud harsh beeps, wires wrapped around your body, you wished you were mistaken, you wished so desperately that this was some kind of afterlife and not a hospital.  

A hospital meant you were still alive and still breathing.  

It meant it hadn't worked.  

Youd failed. Failed at something else again.  

You couldn't even kill yourself right.   

“Hiya y/n” You heard Viv whisper out.  

Slowly you opened your eyes, you noticed the bodies of your teammates laid out on chairs, each with the same concerned facial expressions, they smiled up at you. You turned your focus to Viv, she was sitting next to you holding your hand, you realised, she gave you a sympathetic look, you could see the worry in her eyes, she'd always been a worrier, always wanting to make sure the people she loved most were okay.  

“Why am I not dead.” 

You croak out, wincing as you do so your throat hurting. 

your words hung in the air for a few minutes, none of your teammates quite sure how to respond to such a question. In their minds the answer was easy, you weren't ready to die, you had a life worth living for, you were the most loving, thoughtful person, they knew how could someone so young and ‘innocent’ want to not be here anymore, not want to do life anymore.  

It was Katie who spoke first, her accent thicker than normal, her face full of worry.  

“Because you have a life here with us kiddo, life is so much more than what you may think it is, you still have so much left to do before you leave y/n.” 

You're not sure why or how but her words bring you to tears, she hadn't said anything groundbreaking, yet here you were moved to tears for the first time in two years, you hadn't cried since the night of your injury.  

You can feel Viv rubbing your back as you continue to let out tears, you're sobbing now, everything that had happened to you in the past two years coming out, everything the club psychologist had tried to get you out was spilling out of you, the thoughts of your teammates witnessing this sent you into another set of tears, you didn't want them to see you like this, you were a mess, you didn't want them knowing just how much you were struggling.  

Viv seemed to have sensed this as she forced everyone out of your hospital room leaving just you and her.  

She didn't say anything at first, she just continued rubbing your back, whispering soft Dutch words to you in hopes to calm you down slightly, remembering when you had a Panick attack before you made your debut that speaking in her native language had help you to calm down.  

Eventually your sobbing eased off and all that could be heard was your heavy breathing.  

“What happened y/n?”  

You're not sure how to answer that question truth to be told you didn't know, you remember grabbing the pills and swallowing them, but you don't remember what had switched that evening why you'd decided to go through with it.  

You had thought of doing it before, but you were always too scared to actually follow through, you'd written notes, gathered the supplies but you'd never put the plan into place before and you're not sure why you decided that today you would actually follow through.  

“I don't know” 

She just shakes her head in response.  

“You do sweetheart, you don't just try to kill yourself” 

You nod in agreement, she's right someone doesn't just do it, there has to be things leading up to it, you're just not sure why tonight, what had happened today that left you so ready to leave  

“I've been thinking about it for a while Vivi just today I actually tried I don't know I'm sorry.” 

“You don't have to say sorry kiddo, your still here and that's what matters the most to me, to us, were going to help you through this alright darling, I love you so much.” 

She says removing her hands of your back and going in for a hug, kissing your head as she does so.  

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven not Forgotten | Prompt

Steve Harrington was eleven years old when he learned what Homophobia was. It wasn’t through other people making jokes, it wasn’t his parents, who actually found Steve’s little crushes cute as all hell, his mother joking around about how he’d make the perfect little housewife someday as she had him helping with dinner, Steve wearing his own adorable little ‘head chef’ apron as he struggled with the garlic press, her comments made much to his father’s exasperated amusement.

Nobody ever made him feel bad about it. The crushes. Nobody ever put him down or made him feel like it was wrong. Kids didn’t care until close minded grown ups made it a thing. Kids minds were wide open ready to be shaped. It wasn’t a bad thing...

Until Eddie.

Eddie was one of the bigger kids on the playground. Quiet and mysterious, he came to Hawkins halfway through the year from places unknown, his hair buzzed close to his scalp, now growing back thick, brown, and soft enough for Steve to crave touching it. He’d never seen Eddie up close, they didn’t share any classes but… from a distance he was clearly very pretty. With big dark eyes, soft cheeks, and a cute nose, he was perfect.

Steve was sure he’d caught sight of dimples once. DIMPLES.

Lynda Harrington was about five minutes away from being done with dimples, Steve talked about them that much.

Eddie didn’t talk much, he had no friends to speak of, kept to himself in the playground, either reading an impossibly thick book with a pretty picture on the front that Steve couldn’t quite make out, sat under the jungle gym, or laid under the jungle gym scribbling things into a black notebook covered in stickers and scribbled paint marker marks.

He carried a big guitar case sometimes, and Steve occasionally caught him coming from the music rooms, but he’d never heard him play. He wanted too, but hadn’t quite worked out how to make that happen without being forced to talk to him.

And that. That was just far too scary.

He was an older kid from seventh grade, and from what little he’d heard him speak, he had a nice southern twang to his accent that made Steve’s hands all clammy and his chest feel so full of butterflies that he feared he’d float away.

Too scary basically. But he could watch from afar! Afar was safe. Afar was—

“Hey trailer park FREAK!” Oh boy. The biggest kids. Eighth graders. Eddie was just going to the jungle gym, notebook in hand to get a little light doodling in, when they descended upon him. The sporty kids that dominated in dodgeball, the mean ones that picked on the nerds, the popular ones his parents had told him to steer clear of.

“They’re bad influences” his father would say. “Just focus on your classes and keep your distance from those troublemakers.” Steve was happy to do just that. He had a couple of friends but… he kept to his studies and steered clear.

Eddie was quiet, he had no friends, he hung out in the same place every day doing the same thing, he was an easy target. Steve looked for the teachers, any teachers, any grown-ups, but they were all busy elsewhere, Eddie didn’t have any friends to stand up for him, anyone to back him up as the big kids descended, shoving him against the jungle gym’s climbing net, he barely even complained, just told them to leave him alone, which obviously they weren’t going to do, leaving Steve with a choice to make.

He could stay there, where he was, and keep watch from a far as his crushes notebook was stolen, the panic kicking up a notch from Eddie as he rushed forward to try and get it back, demanding “Not my notebook!! Give it back! Please give it back!” To no avail, the two flanking the main bully just shoving him back against the netting while the main bully roughly ransacked through the pages, uncaring as to the damage he was doing despite Eddie’s continued cries for him to stop, he looked again, any adult, any adult would do.

How had no adult noticed yet?!

Steve found himself crossing the distance before he could even think about it, just in time to watch Eddie be thumped in the gut by the biggest of the three, “trailer trash nerd” spat down at him, his torn notebook thrown to the floor, papers torn free from the seam falling out across the woodchip floor, Steve was too late to stop the worse of it but— he could do something.

“Hey!” All three eyes were on him, Eddies not included, he was too busy clutching his gut and trying to reach for his book at the same time “U-uh… uhm” Steve turned his head and holy shit hallelujah “teachers coming! Better scram before she catches you!” She wasn’t even coming, she was just there, close enough that it made a difference.

The boys got out of there, each one pushing the other to move faster to get out of dodge before the teacher came. At least Steve hadn’t had to stand up to them, just… make them leave. They were probably about to go anyway, given they’d already done enough damage to put their point across.

Eddie was right there, nursing his wounds, trying to gather his papers up, so close, Steve could feel his palms clam up, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute. He pushed through, bending down to pick up a scrunched up ball of paper, he gently began unfolding it. It was nerve wracking, every second he spent in Eddies presence, the boy watching him hesitantly, big dark eyes rimmed red with unshed tears, brown. His eyes were brown. Steve gulped down his own saliva.

“You should uh… you should ignore those guys.” WORDS! He managed words. Okay. He could do this.

“Yeah? What’s it to you?” Eddie was upset, he probably didn’t mean the bite to his tone, it was okay, it’d be okay.

“I just… I mean, it’s not bad, y’know. To be like… nerdy and stuff, you shouldn’t listen to them. They’re just jealous cause you’re… y’know, creative and uhm… an smart, an really talented at drawing and—and people really like that.” He offered the creased paper back as Eddie rose to his feet, wrecked notebook tightly clutched in his arms, he took it back, not quite snatched but… it wasn’t taken gently.

“Yeah, what people? So far things ain’t exactly been makin me feel welcome here.” He shoved the paper full of… god Steve didn’t even know, but Steve knew they were doodles of some kind, winged things, and skeleton monsters, they were cool! Eddie could draw! Steve couldn’t draw, he could barely make stickmen work, the legs were always mismatched lengths, and the arms were never coming from the same point of the stickman’s stick body.

“I mean…” Steve fumbled with his own fingers, warmth decorating his cheeks, pinking the tips of his ears this was it! He could do it, he could tell him, and it’d be fine, and maybe they could hold hands or something, that’d be neat “people… people like me… I—I like you, I mean… I like you a lot and—and I just… I was just wondering if—if maybe—”

“Ew” Steve stopped dead, eyes snapping to the other boy, the other boy who looked at him with an icy disgust that wrapped its frozen claws around Steve’s heart and clenched “that’s gross. Boys can’t like other boys, that’s so fuckin weird!” Weird? It was weird? Steve looked around him, panic filling his very being, from his head to his toes every inch of him felt wrong all of a sudden, his heart beating faster and faster only this time it wasn’t good “and they call me a freak, freak.”

His small fist connected with Eddie’s face without thought, right in the nose. Instinct to fight rearing its head for the first time in his life, panic replaced so swiftly by an anger so unlike him he was consumed by it, and the resulting pained cries filled him with a sick sense of satisfaction that he enjoyed far more than the panic, than the sense of wrong in himself at Eddie’s words.

He didn’t say anything else to Eddie, he just, left him there by the jungle gym, crying in pain holding a bleeding nose. His book dropped to the floor, ruined papers strewn across the woodchip.

And his dimples?

Never to be thought of again.

—Until the boathouse in '86 when everything went to shit for the fourth time in a row.

Part 2

[cranberrymoons]

winter games

prompt: sports (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 605 rated: t tags: basketball, fluff, eddie enduring jock stobin ✊😔 notes: this one stands alone but is part of the future fic series!

welcome to Day 22 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Eddie has a type, and much to his eternal dismay, his type is jocks – with a heart of gold, though! That’s an important distinction. 

Anyway.

He’d been afraid that this would lead to him marrying into a Turkey Trot family, a bunch of evil sporty people in spandex who wake up at five in the morning on Thanksgiving day to run a 5K in the freezing cold before they’ll allow themselves a slice of pumpkin pie, but luckily for him, this hasn’t turned out to be the case.

Unluckily, he has instead found himself married to someone who takes basketball… so goddamn seriously. 

It’s actually kind of adorable, even if he doesn’t actually know or care what’s happening as he sits back on the couch with Steve’s feet in his lap while he and Robin yell at the screen. 

“I don’t know what the hell he thinks he’s doing,” Steve says as Eddie takes a swig of his beer and watches impassively at the tiny men in the red jerseys running back and forth on the court. “It’s like he’s never even seen a hoop before.”

“Seriously,” Robin says. She hands over her bag of chips when Steve makes a grab for it. She rips an anxious hand back through her hair where she’s curled in the big squashy armchair near the couch. “Pathetic.”

“They’re still winning though, aren’t they?” Eddie asks. They turn to him with twin exasperated looks, and Eddie widens his eyes. “Indiana. They’re winning.”

“That’s not the point,” Steve says as Robin nods along emphatically. “They should be winning by more.”

Eddie makes a face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t make sense to you,” Robin says. She rolls her eyes. “Just because –”

But they both devolve into outraged shouts at something that’s just happened in the game, and she doesn’t finish her thought. Steve gets so wound up that his feet shift in Eddie’s lap, heels digging into the tops of his thighs, and Eddie lets out a little grunt of pain. He squeezes Steve’s ankle to get him to move, and Steve gives him a distracted apology as he commiserates with Robin over what is apparently something worth being very upset over.

“Neither of you even went to this school,” he says under his breath, taking another swig of his drink. “Why do you even care?”

Robin glares at him. “How many ear-blasting rock shows have I sat through over the years?”

Eddie sighs. “A bunch.”

“An innumerable number,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “You can put up with one basketball game.”

Steve makes a face. “She kind of has a point.” He rubs a hand over Eddie’s arm where it rests against his legs. “Sorry. Go do a snack run or something if you’re bored. We’re not even to halftime yet.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be asked twice, not when there are several hours (?) of this in his immediate future. He shifts out from under Steve and collects a few empty plates before starting in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Bring more drinks!” Robin calls after him.

“And some of the Christmas cookies from earlier!” Steve adds, craning his neck around to be heard from his spot on the couch. 

Eddie just rolls his eyes, smiling to himself as he pulls open the fridge and stares into it, considering starting some type of cooking project just to keep himself out of the way of the two-person cheering squad in the living room. 

And – okay, so his type is jocks. Doesn’t mean he actually wants to be around them when they’re doing jock things.

[also on ao3]

[asushin-mermaid-au-ask-blog]

So I said I had a crazy Evangelion fic idea, so here it is. This is a mock up of a 12 episode first season of a NGE is a Saturday morning cartoon in the style of Sailor Moon or Power Rangers au. Each ‘episode’ would be a short chapter in the overall fic and hopefully I’ll be inspired to write 12 more ‘episodes’ some later. What do you guys thinks? Too weird and tacky? I’d honestly love some feedback.

Under read more because it’s very long.

Episode One: Is it Destiny?: Shinji Becomes A Pilot - Shinji Ikari an apathetic teenager aces NERV’s aptitude test after being pressured to take it by his guardian Misato Katsuragi. Alongside classmate Rei Ayanami he becomes a pilot for the experimental giant robot known as an Evangelion. Shinji is sure that this is a huge mistake, but when an angel attacks and Rei is injured he’ll have to fight whether he thinks he’s ready or not.

Episode Two: A Duel Of Love: Asuka Arrives In Japan - Asuka Langley Soryu, Shinji’s childhood friend who he hasn’t seen for nine years has also aced the aptitude test. She arrives in Japan with a score to settle and the only way to do it is face off against Shinji in a simulated angel attack. If only Shinji could figure out why she’s mad at him.

Episode Three: To Be A Role Model: Hikari’s New Club - Class president Hikari Horaki is horrified at the fact that Shinji, Asuka and Rei aren’t acting like proper role models now that they’re pilots, so she ropes them into to joining her club: The Tokyo 3 Middle School Good Works Club. Now they need to figure out how to get out of it.

Episode Four: A Man’s Fight: Shinji And The Upperclassman - When an upperclassmen insults Shinji for not being manly enough he doesn’t really care even if Kensuke and Toji do, but when that same upperclassman becomes trapped outside during an angel attack Shinji is able to win his respect anyway.

Episode Five: A Bookworm’s Love: Rei’s Struggle - Tokyo 3’s library has been destroyed by an angel, now bookworm Rei Ayanami needs to find something to do while it’s being rebuilt and she doesn’t have any books. Shinji and Asuka both try to lend a hand with limited success.

Episode Six: The Girl Who Could Do Anything: Asuka vs The Ace - Asuka boasts that she can play every single sport better than almost anyone else during gym class. However, she’s going to have to prove it when an injured volleyball player asks her to stand in for them. Shinji will do whatever he can to help.

Episode Seven: The Sporty Senpai: Noriko Comes To Town (Part One) - When Shinji, Asuka and Rei all get hurt in an angel attack Commander Fuyutsuki is talked into letting the JSSDF’s own ace pilot Noriko Takaya try to whip them into better physical shape. However for indoors types like Shinji and Rei this is it’s own kind of hell.

Episode Eight: The Sporty Senpai: Noriko Comes To Town (Part Two) - Shinji and Noriko are forced to team up for a complicated attack plan. Asuka’s jealousy is the least of his problems though since Noriko is just a hell of a lot more skilled in her mech than Shinji is in Unit 1. Shinji manages to use his own skill set to assist Noriko and win a little respect from himself.

Episode Nine: Make Your Move: Asuka and Shinji’s First Date - Asuka is still jealous of Shinji and the now departed Noriko, so after some prodding from Misato they spend the day hanging out around town. Of course an argument ensues and there’s only way way for them to solve it: another duel this time at the arcade.

Episode Ten: Mother’s Day From Hell: Shinji’s Dream - It’s Mother’s Day, Shinji and Asuka’s least favorite day of the year. After falling asleep inside Unit 1 Shinji has a dream that his mother is Commander of NERV and he’s a popular kid. However in this world Misato hates him and Asuka has no interest in being his rival. Shinji wakes up and decides the real world is better than the dream one.

Episode Eleven: Is She Shinji’s Clone?: Enter Mayumi Yamagishi (Part One): Everyone is amazed when a girl transfers into class who not only looks like Shinji but acts like him too. After some prodding from Kensuke and Toji Shinji manages to befriend the new girl and they hit it off quickly. However Rei keeps her distance and offers Shinji a warning about getting too close to Mayumi.

Episode Twelve: Is She Shinji’s Clone?: Enter Mayumi Yamagishi (Part Two) Asuka’s jealously is again the least of Shinji’s worries when it turns out that Mayumi has an angel inside her heart. The angel takes control of her and manages to pilot Rei’s Eva in a fight against Shinji. Shinji is going to have figure out how to defeat the Eva without hurting Mayumi is doing that even possible? It is when Asuka helps him do it.

[catastrophicmind]

Get to know me (take two)

I came across this little prompt and thought we could continue sharing about ourselves. Believe it or not, but I’m invested in y’all and would love to get to know everyone! 😁

Are you named after anyone?: No, but everyone assumes my parents are huge Allman Brother fans because my name is Melissa. When I asked my mom about it, she informed me that she, in fact, hates the Allman Brothers. She just thought the name was pretty.

When was the last time you cried?: Ooh, boy. About a month ago when I made amends to my mom for all the hell I put her through. We both cried like babies.

Do you have kids?: None currently. I’d actually prefer to be a dog mom. The thought of having mini versions of me roaming the Earth is quite terrifying.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?: It’s literally the only way I know how to communicate. I absolutely love sarcasm and dry humor.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?: Physically, I go for the eyes— they’re a window to the soul. I actually can read people very well. Someone’s eyes say a lot about who they are as an individual. I normally can accurately hone in on their intentions and emotions within the first five minutes of talking to them. I’m big on reading energy. Plus, I’m a sucker for pretty irises.

What’s your eye color?: Hazel to be vague. Normally they switch between green and gold depending on my mood. It’s actually pretty cool.

Scary movies or happy endings?: Scary movies hands down. Not a huge romance fan. I thoroughly enjoy reading fluffy fan fiction, but I’m not big on lovey-dovey movies. I need to be on the edge of my seat the entire time. I get bored watching people fall for each other over a two hour timeframe.

Any special talents?: Heh. I was in concert and marching band for eight years. I can play any type of symphonic instrument you put in front of me from a flute to a tuba. I specialize in reed instruments but that didn’t stop me from learning how to play them all. Also, I play by ear. You can play any song you wish and within thirty seconds, I can pick out the key and play it in its entirety without reading any sheet music. I actually wrote a lot of scores for the football game music.

Where were you born?: Good ‘ol Raleigh, North Carolina where I currently reside. I’ve lived up and down the East Coast, but always manage to make it back home. I don’t intend to leave this beautiful area any time soon.

What are your hobbies?: I’m actually pretty boring. I do a lot of writing and reading, I’m obsessed with music (you can almost always find me with my headphones in) and other lame adult things. I’m getting to an age where all I do is work and come home to relax. I try to keep a structured life. I’m horrendous to be around if I don’t plan my day out in advance.

Have any pets?: No, my lease won’t allow it. My mom still has our family Cockapoo, Cody, we brought home the summer of my Senior year. He may not live with me, but I love him immensely. He’s like the annoying little brother I never wanted and came to grow quite fond of.

What sports do you play/have played?: I was not a sporty gal. Did four years of marching band in high school. It was intense considering we were the top band in the state all four years. We’d travel to Grand Nationals every winter and place in the semi-finals for the country. I got to march on the Indianapolis Colts stadium— that was pretty fucking rad. Had me in phenomenal shape too. I used to be able to run a five-and-a-half-minute mile.

How tall are you?: I’m five-foot-seven-and-a-half. Sometimes I wish I could be petite like other girls, but it works in my favor when I want to reach something on the top shelf.

Favorite subject in school?: History and Psychology. I loved learning about anything to do with what happened in our country and the world long before we arrived. I also adore understanding the brain and why it functions the way it does.

Dream job?: Substance Abuse Counselor. I’d love to work in a treatment center to help individuals struggling with dual diagnosis. I have personally been fighting addiction since I was twenty. I’m coming up on a year of sobriety early March and my dream is to give back what was so selflessly given to to me in my time of need. I want to bring positive change to the world for addicts that believe there is no hope. It actually gives me butterflies thinking about it.

Tagging: @the-type-a @heysatanitsyourgirl @webui1tgwensface @sentimentalslut @plutosschild @honeynotgood @duncans-unibrow

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

now that we all collectively just agree that prominence!y/n is an oc i’ve been wondering what bike does she drive.

do you imagine her driving a more sporty or retro motorcycle ? or do you have a specific one in mind?

you did mention that kanghoon gave his old bike to her and i just imagine him riding around a more sporty bike? and if it isn’t too much what type of bike does kanghoon drive? and did he guide y/n in getting her motorcycle license?

i’d like to imagine that when they were younger y/n would’ve viewed kanghoon as a role model. you know how younger siblings tend to copy everything about their older siblings cause they admire them. that’s how i would like think that y/n’s fascination for bikes began. and after her bothering him about letting her get a license, once she got older he finally gave in and started teaching her and eventually she would’ve gotten her license. and finally, once he gave her his old bike she cherishes it because it remains a prevalent part of her memories, cause she got to bond with her older brother over one of his hobbies, which also turned out to be one of her hidden hobbies she was only able to discover because of him.

sorry for the long rant 😅 i tent to get carried away.

Actually, I do have a very specific model in mind! 2012 Triumph Bonneville SE! Here's an image for reference:

I chose the model because it's my older cousin's lol so I was somewhat familiar with the model lol It's a bit of a chonky model but, unsurprisingly, it's the one that Kanghoon had saved up for months to buy and it's a bit more of a 'civilian bike' if that makes sense? It's more practical for an older brother who's raising his younger siblings

Also yup! Kanghoon has a newer bike now. Although years are a bit wonky in Prominence (since (Y/N) started out as a self insert), the age difference of seven years is constant so we can assume he handed off the bike maybe five or six years after he bought it? Let's say he got a new one 2017 then and, what the hell, he has an interesting job so he needs a bike that specifies those features, let's give him a 2017 Yamaha V-Max power cruiser

I know like the bare minimum of motorcycles but a lot of members of my family are very motor/car centric so I know a little bit hehe

And yes! Kanghoon did help her out in getting her license. Before he gave her the choice of Driver's or Motorcycle's and she chose the latter while Hamin chose the former (yup, he taught both of them, bless), but he is a gentle teacher, no use in yelling at his younger siblings, he knows better than his parents that that doesn't work.

You're right! (Y/N)'s only role model really was Kanghoon and his now ex-partner so a lot of her personality comes from him, or at least, in retaliation to him. As we somewhat know, Kanghoon has a cool mind and a no-shit attitude. (Y/N), in her newly formed OC self, is a bit hot-headed with a no-shit attitude (for reference, Hamin is hot headed with a 'I give too many shits' attitude). But she really did try to do a lot of things he did, mostly because of older sister duties and also because she doesn't want Kanghoon to do everything on his own. Look, Hamin was a handful growing up, why do you think (Y/N) hasn't lost her mind in NCT yet? As indifferent as Kanghoon may seem, he does cherish his siblings a whole lot! He was actually a little elated when (Y/N) asked him to learn. I imagine when they were younger Kanghoon would pick up and drop off his siblings on his motorcycle too just for ease. And it's true, like I mentioned earlier, he saved up for a while to get his first bike not to mention the modifications he made on it (when he first got it and before he handed it off to (Y/N)), so handing it off to his sister was a bit of a sentimental moment.

Also no don't apologize! I love talking about these three so much! Thanks for sending in an ask, love!

[onebloodsoakedlion]

Lost and Stolen - A Pokémon Creepypasta/Spinpasta - Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This creepypasta is a bit of spin-off, inspired by Lost Silver, Snow on Mt. Silver, False Red and Lost Soul Silver. Also, trigger warnings from those creepypastas apply to this one.

Gold woke up to blue-grey, howling winds and falling snow. He was lying in the snow. He had to get up as soon as possible. He sat right up. His vision was blurred on his right side and his belly was sore. He went to rub his right eye, only to see his hand covered in bloody cuts and his arm felt like it was stuck to his sleeve. Looking down, he saw similar cuts all over his left leg. Gold examined his right arm only to find his sleeve stained with blood. What the hell? Gold looked around. By his side was a naginata - the same naginata FOREVER had given him. The same naginata he used to steal his life back. It can't have just been a nightmare. Panic seized Gold as he remembered something - he may be alive and mostly in one piece, but what about his Pokémon? After all, all but one of them had died before the cold did any real damage to him. Were they also going to be okay now? He yanked his Typhlosion, Wilfred's Pokéball off the holster of his jacket and checked his most loyal partner's status. Nearly full HP. No status effects and no horrifically frostbitten appearance. But what about the others? He dived into his bag, checking the Pokéballs of the other five he had brought with him on that day. They were in the exact same state as Wilfred, with minor cuts here and there.

Gold stood up, putting his bag on and picking up his naginata. He wasn't sure if he still needed it. He had a good look around and realised he was at the peak of a mountain. Probably Mt. Silver. Red or rather, Ash, was sitting at the very summit, with a katana stuck in the snow beside him and an Articuno right behind him. "Re- ASH!" Gold called out as he approached. "Hiro?" Red muttered, "Are you hurt too?" Gold was about to answer when he noticed Red's condition. His right arm had also sustained plenty of cuts, the left leg of his trousers were bloodstained and the lower half of his face seemed to be stripped of the top layer of skin in addition to having a few cuts here and there and his left eye was bruised and bloodshot. "Ash... you're..." "Better than outright missing a couple of limbs," Red muttered back. Gold violently shivered, despite the cold being mostly bearable. That years-long nightmare had to have been at least partially real. "R-Remember when we got so badly frostbitten that we l-lost some limbs?" Gold stammered, "O-Our wounds are just like that, but m-minor." Red hugged himself and stared off to the side with a shaky sigh. "We saved your lives. All four of them." Gold looked up at the source of the voice. It was an Articuno. He remembered reading something about Articuno appearing to those stranded on icy mountains. An Articuno saving him and Red didn't seem out of the question. But... "What do you mean four?" Gold asked. "You two weren't the only ones who were killed by the curse placed on his mountain," the Articuno replied. "Killed"? "Curse"? What was the Articuno talking about? Gold felt his heart begin to race.

"So these are the other two you saved?" A girl's voice echoed from Gold's right. Something about it seemed so familiar. He turned in the direction of that voice and saw a Houndoom leading two girls towards them. One of the girls had long brown hair and wore a white hat with a teal-blue ribbon and a short, black dress over the top of a white long-sleeved shirt and white capris along with teal-blue, black sneakers with white toes over a pair of long white socks and a backpack similar to Red's. The other girl had teal eyes and hair shaped into angular pigtails, a grey and yellow beanie, a white jacket with red stripes on the cuffs over a sporty red and grey shirt, yellow cargo shorts with black side pockets and black cuffs, pink socks barely poking out above a pair of red and black shoes with thick white trim and a backpack somewhat similar to Gold's. They looked familiar. Really familiar. "Strange, I thought you would've known the boys," the Houndoom replied. That Houndoom was FOREVER. He had to be FOREVER. FOREVER led the two girls to Gold and Red, "I guess you should introduce yourselves. You can use your real names. You're all in the same boat, after all." "M-My name is Hiro," Gold responded, "Although I usually go by "Gold" around people I don't know." Red walked up beside Gold and tipped his cap at the two girls. "And this is Ash," Gold continued, "and his nickname is "Red"." "Cool names!" the teal-haired girl replied, "My name's Kris, and my nickname's Crystal!" "I'm Midori," the other girl answered, "I let people call me "Green"." "It's likely none of you know me, either," the Articuno boomed. "My name is VITALITY. I saved your lives while FOREVER saved your souls."

Just as VITALITY and FOREVER had hinted at, Crystal and Green weren't any better off than Gold or Red. The entire left side of Crystal's face had been scratched up and bruised. Her left hand was raw and bleeding and not only was her right leg scratched up, but there were bloodstains on the right leg of her shorts. Green's capris and socks were bloodstained from the cuts all over her legs, her face was all scratched up from her nose up and she had two black eyes. "Let me guess, you two had some nightmare about you and your Pokémon getting mauled by frostbite?" Crystal shrugged. "That wasn't a nightmare, Kris," VITALITY replied, "Everything that happened to you was real." Gold felt a freezing chill go down his spine, "N-no... it can't have been real. It shouldn't have been real!" "It doesn't matter whether it was real or not," FOREVER replied, "It being a nightmare wouldn't change the fact that you've been hurt. Whether it actually happened or not doesn't make your pain any less real." Gold sighed. "We did experience that too. Probably just as painful. Did you... also end up in some sort of hell afterwards?" "Well, when you put it that way," Crystal gravely replied, "Yes, that was probably Hell we had been through." "Did you lose all your limbs?" Gold asked. "Yes." Crystal replied. "I was in some hell too," Red muttered, "I lost my head." "I didn't lose anything," Green shuddered, "But everything hurt! My whole body... it was going all haywire! L-like when my SNES stopped working!" Red gritted his teeth. Gold's jaw dropped. Crystal brought a hand to her mouth. "You were the hardest one to resurrect, Midori," FOREVER explained, "Hiro, Ash and Kris were killed by the curse, but you were outright erased." "Why?" Green pleaded, "Did I do something really bad?" "Because apparently you weren't meant to exist at all," FOREVER sighed. "And before you ask us why that is," VITALITY added, "ask those weirdos pretending to be from GameFreak. Or you can kill them in self-defence trying to do so." "What? Why would we need to defend ourselves from them?" Red asked. "Because they cast the curse that killed you," VITALITY replied, "You would know that the cold of Mt. Silver normally isn't even enough to hurt you." "You'd be correct," Crystal replied, "But that time it was really cold!" "Even so, the cold didn't hurt you," VITALITY continued, "The snowflakes did. They became so razor-sharp and tough that they shredded you alive." "I'd assume that also they dragged your souls to whatever hell you ended up in," FOREVER added, "I met one of them there and... well... he tried to kill me so I burnt his face off." "Fair enough," Crystal sighed, "It's not like I didn't gleefully bash... Lyra's... head in..." "Unfortunately, we didn't get rid of all of them," VITALITY gravely spoke, "They may still be out there and if they find out you're alive, they'll almost certainly try to kill you again. We'll have to keep watching over you from now on." "Can we still go home?" Green asked. "You should go home," FOREVER replied, "Your injuries still need to be treated and besides, Hiro and Kris, you've been missing for over a year. And Ash and Midori, you've been missing for over seven years!" "Shit!" Gold yelled before covering his mouth, "S-Sorry." "We better hurry back home then," Green yelled, "Everyone must think we're dead by now!"

The Pokémon Centre just outside the entrance to Mt. Silver was the first stop for the four children on their way back home. At the very least, they'd have a first aid kit for humans. After all, Trainers often got hurt, too! Gold knew that all too well when his first bike ride ended in him crashing and scraping his knee on Goldenrod City's hard pavement. The doors opened and the Nurse there immediately looked up to see four children enter the Centre. "No way... this can't be right... what are you four doing here after all this time? And what happened to you!?" "It's a long story, Nurse..." Gold replied, "We need help!" "I can see that," Nurse Brenda replied, reaching under the desk for a first-aid kit, "You lot look like you've survived being put through a meat grinder!" She produced a large duffle bag and let the four kids into the room behind her. But Red stopped for a moment, reaching into his vest pockets. "What's wrong, Red?" Nurse Brenda asked. "Just want to prove it's really us," Red replied, showing her his Trainer ID, "Pretty sure you might have had to deal with impostors..." "You're fine, Red," Brenda reassured him, "We only met four impostors, and they weren't actually like any of you."

"A medical team will be here soon," Brenda said, putting her Pokégear in her pocket. Until then, I can only really treat one person at a time." "Someone else can go first," Gold replied, "I really need to call my Mum." "Same here," Crystal added. "Pretty sure either of you could go first," Green replied, pulling out her Pokégear "If what FOREVER said is true, everyone probably thinks Red and I are dead at this point." Red just shrugged, "I'll go first, then." Gold selected his mother's phone number, about to call her, while Crystal was about to do the same, until she looked over his shoulder. "Wha- hang on," Crystal exclaimed, "Our mums have the same phone number!" "How even...." Gold muttered, looking at the phone number saved on Crystal's Pokégear, "I'll just call that number and see what happens."

"Yeesh, your leg looks just as bad as your arm. Are there any other injuries I should know about." "Just... this," Red replied, lifting up his shirt to reveal a large graze across his stomach, as if he'd been sliding on his stomach across rough cement without a shirt on. His belly began to bleed in several spots as if scabs had been removed. "Jeez, Red!" Brenda exclaimed, "Were you clinging to a Luxray's tail as it charged all the way through Victory Road?" Red frowned at the nurse and shook his head. "First things first, we should clean and disinfect those wounds of yours," Brenda said, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and a bottle of disinfectant wipes.

"Hiro? Is that really you?" Gold heard his mother ask. "Y-Yeah... it's me..." he replied. "Are you okay? Where are you?" "I'm at the Pokémon Centre at Route 28," Gold answered, "Kris, Ash and Midori are here, too! Other than a heap of cuts and grazes we're fine... I think..." "Kris is with you too?" his mum exclaimed, probably about to cry. "Y-Yeah, I'm here, Mum," Kris stammered. "I'm so glad my children are safe," the Johto Champions heard their mother sob.

Previous Chapter (Ethan) Previous Chapter (Lyra)

[aliterarydumpsterfire]

Stan Rawson’s Night Off

If there’s one thing Stan Rawson was good at, it’s remembering dates. Marla Rawson, on the other hand, was more of a ‘in the moment’ person. She probably didn’t even realize what day it was…. A boon for Stan, because anniversaries and remembering them was the best way to score points with the missus.

He left Woody’s Specialty Toys with a bounce in his step, and a shopping sack full of surprise anniversary goodies. He’d told Marla he’d be at the office late filing TPS reports, but truly he hadn’t done any report filing in forever, not at least since he’d been hired on by Efficiency Consulting five years ago. Not to mention that there was no way he’d have this sweet bod if he was still at that hell hole they called an office like the rest of those suckers. Instead, he’d told his Overlord to go pound sand, because he was going to be treating his lady to a night in and didn’t have time to wreck any animal shelters today. His Overlord hadn’t been happy about it, but that guy can screw himself. The bad guys get a night off too, sometimes. He’d left his uniform hanging in his locker, and the cape with “NASTY SURPRISE“ emblazoned on it lumped in atop his electric red high top boots. It was only 1 AM, and this night still had plenty of life in it still.

Maybe Saving Grace would appreciate the night off too, instead of having to repeat the combat of a hundred scenarios of the past. She got him good a couple of days ago when she dropped an anvil on his head, but he got her back when he dropped her over the Grand Canyon. Those kind of feats always took a couple days to recover from, anyway.

Stan hopped into his dune buggy and shifted into gear, turning up the radio to hear Meatloaf wail into the night. He loved his open air buggy, even though he wished he could afford a really sleek sporty car or something more fitting for a villain like him. The plastic of the shop sack in the passenger seat flapped in the cool evening wind as he pulled onto the roadway. The contents spilled onto the seat and he felt a little giddy just looking at the array of items he’d picked up for tonight. He was really going to win some points with this kit, he just knew it. Maybe he could even get into the house all sneaky-like, set up the bathroom with some candles, and lay out the edible undies.

That prospect was sunk as moments later Stan pulled into the circle driveway of his McMansion. The entryway lights were still on, and the glow of the big screen reflected in the windows from down the hall. Ok, so maybe being sneaky wouldn’t work. Stan was only deterred for a second. He shut off the ignition and gathered his goodies in his arms with a little whistle.

The door was unlocked and he was greeted by his dog Toby. He had to wait there to receive the appropriate amount of licks and a little bit of pee dribble on his pant leg from the overactive little golden retriever. Gross, but even that was ok on a night like this.

“Marla!” He shouted from the doorway, walking into the hall. “Baby, I know I’m a little early, but I was thinki–”. The sight in the living room stopped him cold in his tracks.

Saving Grace was sitting on his couch.

No, that wasn’t right.

Marla was in a Saving Grace getup, sitting on the couch… with the Saving Grace mask and booties beside her on the couch cushion. She was sitting with her feet extended, resting in Marla’s customary nighttime footbath bucket. The smell of epsom salts and lavender hit him.

The night’s earlier purchases clattered to the tile floor from Stan’s arms.

Marla was frozen in place. Her eyes were the biggest he’d ever seen…she’d turned as white as a sheet.

“Baby.” He greeted her, the word coming out slowly and uncertain.

“Baby,” Her voice echoed his. “I didn’t think you would be home so soon?”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh what the ever loving fuck. Stan found himself nodding, trying to process what he was seeing, but all he’d been processing for the last hour was four letter words in anticipation of coming home, and that’s all he could process now.

___

Marla looked him up and down, her eyes settling on the items that littered the ground at Stan’s feet in the hall. There was an odd egg shaped thing still rocking back and forth on the tile from the momentum, and a tube of clear liquid had popped open and dripped into a pool beside it.

In Marla’s experience, Stan only went on a shopping spree at Woody’s and lied to her about how late he’d be at the office for three things: her birthday, which she was sure it wasn’t, his birthday, which it surely wasn’t, or their anniversary, which…. Shit. Her mouth opened in an O, pausing for the right words. Her voice came unexpectedly chipper. “Baby, you ruined my surprise!” She gave him a scolding look.

Stan looked at her confused and shook his head like he was trying to shake off a bad dream. “What?”

She stood up in her foot soaking tub, splashing lukewarm water onto the living room carpet. “You think I don’t know what day it is?!” She asked accusingly.

His eyes snapped from the footbath, to the Saving Grace mask, and back to her again in bewilderment. Her flashy leggings were bunched around her calves, her feet were all pruny, her dirty blonde hair was put up in a messy bun, and the blue and yellow Saving Grace zippered blouse hung open. The cigarette on the end table tray was almost done.

“… What day is it, Marla?” His question came slow and baffled.

“It’s our anniversary, silly!” She hopped out of the footbath, adjusted her front, and struck a pose in front of him. “If you hadn’t come home so early, you wouldn’t have ruined the surprise!” She grabbed the mask on the couch and slipped it over her eyes. “See?!”

“Oh my god.”

“Right?! I knew you would totally freak!” She took the mask off again. “But I only rented it ‘til tomorrow at 3 because someone else needs it for a kid’s birthday party”. Marla picked up the egg shaped item from the floor and held it up for inspection. “It seems like you had some plans of your own, too, huh?”

“Oh, uh… yeah”, he stammered. “Very surprising.” He reached out and pulled the zipper of her blouse down a little. “This could work…”

“Could? You think so?” She asked coyly. Encouraged, she leaned away from him so the zipper came down some more.

__

Stan Rawson was nobody’s fool. But he was willing to play one for the time being. As Marla tried to pass off his discovery as part of her anniversary surprise, doing a little dance in her spandex suit, Stan was getting roped in in spite of himself. God, I love a woman in uniform, he found himself thinking. The spandex hugged every one of her beautiful curves, and he wondered why she didn’t dress like that every day. She’d always told him she was a personal trainer, and her closet was full of “RUN NOW, WINE LATER” wife beater tanks and sweatpants. To him it didn’t even matter in that moment what the pretense was, he wondered if she’d be willing to wear the suit more often. She turned in front of him like Vanna White again, and bent down to pick up the other items on the floor. She made sure he got an eyeful as she pointed her heart shaped ass in his direction and slowly stood back up, giving him a look he was definitely willing to act dumb for. Oh, yeah. Definitely.

___

The sheets had been thrown off the bed hours before, but Stan found himself feeling around in the dark to pull one around his waist. He tightened it around himself and slipped off the bed quietly. Marla was sound asleep, her Saving Grace suit discarded on the floor, and Toby was half curled up on it, also sleeping soundly. Stan made his way into the kitchen with a heavy sigh. First things first. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out the whiskey. Pouring himself a drink, he opened his laptop to an empty document and began to type.

To Whom It May Concern,

I am writing to inform you that I, Stanley Rawson, am resigning from my position as ‘Nasty Surprise’ and will be ending my employment with Efficiency Consulting as of two weeks from now. I will be happy to assist the Overlords in training my replacement until my last day.

Thank you,

Stanley Rawson.

[erin-bo-berin]

Six nuggets anon: when they have the kids. I’m not much of a smut person myself. Just fluff of Steve, singlemom!reader, and their growing family Please

I can do that! I kinda wanna put a spin on it though if you don’t mind! I kinda wanna do it like him and the reader are dreaming of the future and that’s what the fic is, like a daydream if that makes sense? Cause I thought it would be a cute take on it plus you get the cute content!

I know he said he wants 3 boys and 3 girls but I ended up doing similar to Joe because he ended up the only boy with four sisters and I was like okay with Steve that would be adorable lol

The Harrington house was rarely ever silent.

Six kids was a hell of a lot for many people, but you and Steve managed just fine.

There was your first born, the adopted Harrington that made Steve a father. She may not have been born a Harrington, but she was a Harrington for life. Steve often joked that she was the bonus kid that prepared him for fatherhood since he’d missed the first year of her life.

The second born, another little girl was just as energetic as her big sister, but had a soft spot for her mommy. Her older sister was strictly a daddy’s girl. Other than being as outgoing as her sister, they couldn’t be more different. While your oldest was sporty, second baby girl was your sporty one.

Third and fourth born was a complete surprise as they were twins. A boy and a girl, which Steve was thrilled about. He got another girl and a boy at the same time. They were your sensitive souls, often preferring to settle with a book or for your first son—draw. They were definitely the more crafty of the bunch.

Baby number five worried you when you weren’t sure if it was a boy or girl yet. With a track record of having three girls and one boy, you were afraid he’d be disappointed if it was another girl—which to no one’s surprise, it was another girl. Steve was in love at first sight, of course. Being the youngest for a while made number five your wild child. She was used to life with four older siblings and she did everything she could to keep up with them with no problem.

Baby number six was definitely going to be your final child. As much as you loved your kids, pregnancy was exhausting. Surprisingly, Steve wanted a girl this time around. He said he was happy he had gotten a boy, but he was also really wrapped around his girls’ fingers. Baby number six was also currently still in utero. You were six months pregnant with your final girl—Steve had gotten his wish. Just like her eldest sister, you predicted that she would be a daddy’s girl as she always kicked like crazy when he was around.

Your dining room table was filled with lots of noise, a big mess, but lots of happy smiling faces. There were booster seats and high chairs, messy faces and wild hair, but the table was filled with love and laughter, just like you and Steve wanted.

Your oldest was now 8, leading the pack of Harringtons like the natural born leader she was.

Baby girl number two was now 5, starting Kindergarten soon and eager to soak up knowledge about a world that fascinated her and constantly caused her to ask a million questions.

Three and four were 3 years old, had a tight bond that only twins could have, but we’re growing an unexpected love for movie night with daddy, even when others didn’t want to watch.

Five was 18 months, toddling around everywhere, reminding you so much of her eldest sister at that age. She was stubborn and always had to be with her siblings. She was a true firecracker.

You rubbed your belly, feeling the last of you and Steve’s nearly completed family stirring inside of you.

Life was going to be even more crazy soon with a newborn in the house, but you’d manage. After all, you’d made it this far. Life might be busy and hectic for at least the next 18 years of raising children and sending them off into the world, but you knew you wanted to do it with no one else but Steve.

•

“Five girls?” Steve asked, pulling you out of the daydream you’d just been describing to him.

That was how you hoped life with Steve would look like down the road.

“Would you mind if that happened?”

“No, I’m already wrapped around three girls’ fingers,” Steve chuckled, rubbing your belly gently.

“Three? There better only be one in there cause I’m only planing on baby number two being in there,” you chuckled.

“Oh sweetheart,” he smiled, “The third one is you.”

[rynnrose]

CASTLETON [PART FOURTEEN]

You honestly can’t remember the last time you were this excited for something. Sure, it was nice to see your friends at the end of the summer, and you’d even been looking forward to attending your last Welcoming Feast, but none of those things could compare to this. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to focus on anything other than war and destruction that you’ve almost forgotten the rush of adrenaline that overwhelms you before every game. After a year of little more than pain, suffering, and quite literally fighting for your life, you welcome the sensation with open arms.

The match isn’t set to start for another ten minutes, and already you can hear the chanting in the stands. Nearly every student in the school has come out to see you play, if Hooch is to be believed, and you can’t wait to give them a show. The first Quidditch game of the year is always an ordeal, particularly whenever your house is involved. Part of you wishes that you’d been pitted against Gryffindor — they always give you a run for your money, though you’d rather die than tell them that — but given the hostility between the snakes and lions, you suppose competing against them would only make things worse. Still, you hope things calm down soon; you owe Ginny and Jungkook a good game.

You didn’t realize how much you’d missed this until you started practicing again. It was easy to get lost in the drama at Hogwarts, particularly in the past few years. Even you and your friends weren’t immune, no matter how badly you tried to stay out of the conflict. Between Harry and the DA and Umbridge and Voldy, there’s been precious little time to focus on the things you actually love — and by god, how you love Quidditch.

It’s been five years since you joined the team, and you still get butterflies every time you step out onto the pitch. Growing up among Muggles obviously hadn’t given you much opportunity to familiarize yourself with broom riding, but you’d fallen head over heels for it the moment you walked into your first flying class. It was the only subject you’d never struggled in, simply because it came so naturally to you. Hooch singled you out as a potential player as soon as she saw you take to the sky. The majority of your first year was spent cooped up in the library reading about rules and regulations, famous players, and even the origins of the sport. You were obsessed with the idea of being on the team. Naturally, when you were accepted second year, you were overjoyed.

It was your enthusiasm for the game that got Hobi and Yoongi involved. They’d spent so much time listening to you rant about it that they finally caved in and decided to try out third year — and funnily enough, discovered that they had quite the knack for it as well. None of you were particularly sporty, but you excelled where Quidditch was concerned. You and Hobi were Slytherin’s star Beaters, quicker than lightning when it came to keeping the Bludgers off of your team (and knocking them towards the rival players). Yoongi fit quite nicely into the Seeker position, what with his lithe frame and keen eyes. The three of you were the most skilled players on the team by the time fifth year rolled around; perhaps you’re a bit biased, but you’d wager that you’re the best in the entire school.

Being promoted to captain came as a bit of a shock, but you like to think you’ve done rather well in the time since you were given the position. Your teammates have never performed better, and though you’re all absolutely exhausted when practice ends, you know that you stand one hell of a chance of winning the cup this year. As much as they like to tease you, Hobi and Yoongi have attributed their improvement to you over and over again, citing your patience and determination as the driving force behind the entire team. You’ll never admit it, but their praise is perhaps the only thing that has kept you sane since the promotion.

Well...perhaps not the only thing.

You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from combing the stands for Taehyung as you made your way to the locker room. As much as you’ve tried to brush off your excitement, you can’t help but grin at the thought of him watching you play. Something about that boy — and you’re no closer to figuring it out now than you were the day you met him — gets you flustered like no one else in the world. Fortunately, you’re quite certain you have the same effect on him.

You haven’t spoken a word of this to your friends, of course; they’ve done a good enough job of teasing you on their own without adding fuel to the fire. They have the best of intentions (you think), but not a day has gone by since you met Taehyung wherein they haven’t taunted you mercilessly over the blue-haired boy. It’s the first time your love life has ever been a topic of conversation among your group, and while you used to hate that no one had ever seriously caught your interest, you’re suddenly grateful that you never had to put up with this before. One more smirk from Hobi and you’re quite certain you’re going to punch him in the jaw.

It seems a bit hypocritical of him to tease you about your “boyfriend” when you still know next to nothing about his own. All he’s told you is the basics, insignificant details that could apply to about three hundred guys in your year: brown hair, brown eyes, bright smile, glasses. You have your suspicions, of course — you’re nothing if not perceptive — but without any confirmation from him, you’re left to fumble in the dark trying to connect the dots. For all your complaining, though, you understand why he’s kept it under wraps. Anyone caught fraternizing with a Slytherin right now is just asking for trouble; he doesn’t want his lover anywhere near the whole situation, and you suppose you can understand that.

Still, you can’t stop yourself from taunting him when he strolls over and leans against the locker at your side.

“Is your secret boyfriend gonna make an appearance today?”

Your words have him narrowing his eyes. He doesn’t mean it, of course, but if you were anyone else, you might have cowered under his gaze. Hobi can embody Slytherin intimidation when he needs to, particularly where you and the boys are concerned. Most students would freeze in place if he looked at them the way he’s looking at you now. All you can do is chuckle.

“He might,” he relents with a barely-suppressed smile. Your own lips quirk upward when you notice the small glimmer of happiness in his irises. “What about yours? Can we expect a blue-haired supporter on the Hufflepuff side of the pitch?”

You scoff and shove him away from you with a sneer. He cackles maniacally, already having far too much fun at your expense. It’s not the first time he’s taken pleasure in your anger, though you know he would sooner dive to the bottom of the Black Lake than risk actually upsetting you. The man’s quite literally risked his life for you before; you sincerely doubt he would go out of his way to genuinely hurt you. Still, he seems to have a great deal of fun at your expense. You’d be offended if you didn’t do the exact same thing to him.

“If you must know, yes,” you tell him. “I...I asked him to come watch.”

His eyes widen at that. You just know he’s got some kind of sarcastic comment rising in the back of his throat, but you raise your hand to silence him before he can even get a word out. The last thing you need right now is to worry about Taehyung (even if he’s come to occupy your thoughts more and more the past few days). You can deal with your best friend’s taunts most days, but not now, when you’ve got a game to win in a few minutes.

He sighs and raises his hands in surrender, though it’s not hard to guess what’s going through that oversized head of his. It seems that you and Taehyung are all he talks about these days. You don’t know what his fascination is, but you sincerely hope he finds a new topic of conversation soon. You might hex him if he doesn’t.

Before he can speak again, you cup your mouth with your hands and call out to the rest of the locker room occupants. “Alright, people! Gather up!”

Your teammates cease their playful shoving and turn their attention to you. The seven of you migrate to the center of the room with ease, just as you’ve done a thousand times before. Light laughter echoes off the walls as you huddle up and toss your arms around each other, Hobi to your left and Yoongi to your right. Slytherins try to avoid sentimentalism when they can help it — you typically have far more important things to worry about — but there are some traditions even you pay homage to. You suspect the other houses would be shocked to learn that you take the time to psych each other up before each game. They’ve never been particularly open-minded when it comes to you.

“Okay,” you begin in the most sincere voice you can muster, “this is it. The past year has been nothing but chaos and despair, but we’re finally back. The Hufflepuffs probably think we’ve gone rusty. Are you gonna prove them right?”

The whole team calls out in unison, brows furrowed in concentration. “No!”

“Are you gonna let them beat us?”

“No!”

“Hell no. We’ve been waiting for this day since the end of fifth year. You guys have put your hearts and souls into this team, and I’ll be damned if I let us lose after all the work we’ve done. It doesn’t matter if the whole school’s rooting against us. You guys have yourselves, you have each other, and you have me. Forget about the Gryffindors, the Ravenclaws, even the Hufflepuffs. We’re Slytherins, and we don’t lose. On three.”

The lot of you outstretch your hands, grinning like idiots when they land on top of each other in the middle of the circle. Your smile is the largest of them all. You can’t deny how much you’ve missed this, the overwhelming sense of camaraderie among your fellow players. It isn’t often that you allow yourself to dedicate yourself so entirely to something (aside from your pranks, of course), but when you’re in, you’re all in. You and Yoongi playfully bump each other’s shoulders when your hands meet. You start the countdown with a smirk.

“One, two, three!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

The horn sounds as soon as the chant ends, signaling the beginning of the match. You and your teammates grab your brooms and make for the pitch entrance, practically bouncing with excitement. Hobi and Yoongi flank you on either side. You don’t need to look at them to know that they’re smiling just as widely as you. The three of you (and Jungkook) had spent most of the summer practicing in Yoongi’s backyard, but to be here now, preparing to step out onto the field and play your last first match ever, is almost surreal. You’ll never say it out loud, but you’re glad to have them by your side.

The team steps out onto the field together, grinning ear to ear despite the cacophony of boos you’re met with. Three of the four houses are jeering and shouting at you, though this is not at all unusual. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are being a bit more subtle about it, but Gryffindor has spared no expense in taunting you. Even from here you can see their homemade signs, most of which bear crude drawings of badgers eating snakes and other unpleasant depictions of your house symbol. You suspect that McGonagall attempted to confiscate them before the game began, but even she isn’t vigilant enough to stop them all. Honestly, they would have found a way to taunt you no matter what.

The majority of the positive feedback comes from the Slytherin section, where your housemates are clapping and cheering as loud as they can to try and drown out the noise. It’s nothing compared to the shouts from the other sections, but you appreciate the effort nonetheless. You aren’t particularly close with most of your fellow Slytherins, but you smile and wave to them anyway, eager to prove that their faith is not misplaced. Oliver waves at you from the top row, lazily wiggling his green flag. You chuckle as you wave back.

Your support from the other houses is minimal, but it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. Jungkook is among your loudest fans, shouting at the top of his lungs and blowing obnoxiously into his horn as soon as his eyes land on you. He’s decked out in green from head to toe, even going so far as to wear the emerald beret you bought for him during your trip to Paris the previous summer. The man’s even painted his face green and silver, much to the chagrin of his housemates, who stare at him as if he’s grown another head. You’d expect nothing less from him; for all his playful jabs, he’s always been your most vocal supporter.

Ginny sits not too far from him, eagerly waving at you with a green foam finger. You haven’t the slightest clue where she got it — Hogwarts doesn’t even sell foam fingers — but you have a sneaking suspicion that her father’s got something to do with it. Her smile is so wide you’re sure her face is going to crack, but she doesn’t seem to care. The sight of her fiery red hair standing out amidst the crowd makes you think of Fred and George, and your smile falters for a brief moment. It’s the first time you’ve played without them cheering you on, jumping up and down and shouting until their lungs gave out. Truth be told, you’re still a bit torn up over Fred’s loss. You try your best not to think about it.

Of course, your newest supporter sticks out among the rest. In the very front row of the Hufflepuff section is Taehyung, waving eagerly at you with the brightest of smiles. His vibrant hair makes him rather easy to spot, but that’s not what has you letting out a delirious chuckle when your eyes finally land on him. Despite your assurance that it was no problem for him to cheer for his own house, he’s sporting a dark green shirt and waving a Slytherin flag above his head. The sight of him in your house colors has you grinning like an absolute fool, even as Hobi suggestively wiggles his eyebrows. That boy just continues to surprise you.

It takes you a moment to realize that he hasn’t come alone. A rather excitable boy waves at you from his side, bundled up in a Ravenclaw scarf even though his team isn’t playing and it’s well over eighty degrees outside. Another Hufflepuff stands behind Taehyung, shooting you a smile so bright that you’re quite certain you might melt if you stare at it for too long. Kim Namjoon sits a few feet away from them, nose buried in a book as he goes out of his way to avoid your gaze. You’d expect nothing less from him, and honestly, you’re glad you don’t have to deal with his judgemental stare. The last thing you need right now is to concern yourself with him.

With one last wave to Taehyung, you tighten your grip on your broom and make your way to the center of the pitch. Madam Hooch is already there, as is the Hufflepuff captain, who offers you a polite smile. You know remarkably little about Hannah Abbott, save for the fact that she took over after Cedric Diggory’s untimely demise a few years ago. She’s been nice enough the few times you’ve spoken to her, though always a bit reserved, as if purposefully distancing herself from you. You don’t blame her in the slightest; your reputation has a way of putting people off.

“Alright, ladies,” Hooch calls. “It’s time. Shake hands, and we’ll begin the match.”

Hannah is the first to outstretch her hand. The players behind her look at you almost fearfully, as if they expect you to reach out and bite it off. Fortunately for them, you do no such thing. Your palm presses easily against Hannah’s, and to your surprise, she doesn’t flinch away. The two of you shake hands and smile politely, all too aware of the eager eyes watching your every move. You almost feel bad for her. Not everyone is as accustomed to being stared at as you.

With one last nod to your rival, you take a few steps back and mount your broom. Your players follow suit, each grinning ear to ear in anticipation. The stadium goes silent as your team and the Hufflepuffs stare at one another. You can feel the goosebumps crawling along your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. You’ve missed this feeling more than words can describe. No matter how chaotic and complicated your life might be, you can always count on the sheer exhilaration of the game to perk you up. For the first time all year, you don’t feel as if you’re just gliding through your life. You’re here, you’re alive, and you couldn’t be more excited if you tried.

The sound of Hooch’s whistle is the last thing you hear before you take to the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And in it goes! That’s another ten points for Slytherin, putting the score at 130 to 90!”

You’re fairly certain that the smirk is simply stuck to your face at this point. It’s only been twenty minutes since the match began, and already you can taste your impending victory. The Hufflepuffs have been giving you a good fight, posing a far more difficult challenge than expected, but they’re no match for the well-oiled machine that is your team.

Benjamin, your Keeper, has been running himself ragged defending the Slytherin goal posts. For every shot they make, he fends off three more. That they’ve managed to make it to ninety points is an impressive feat, even if they’re still coming in second place. He’s blocking shots that you would have considered sure things, and never once does he waver, even when the Hufflepuff fans start shouting obscenities at him. You’ve spent the past month whacking Bludgers towards the hoops to help him train, and it seems as though your work has paid off.

Your Chasers — Emilia, Anthony, and Leo — have been at the top of their game since the match began. They’re speeding through the air so fast that you can barely keep up with them, let alone the opposing team. Emilia and Leo are acting as support for Anthony, who has singlehandedly landed 100 of your 130 points. As soon as the Quaffle lands in his grasp, he’s gone, little more than an emerald blur as he takes off towards the posts. Emilia and Leo flank him on either side, occasionally tossing the ball back and forth between them to confuse the Hufflepuff Chasers. They are a team in their own right.

You and Hobi have, as usual, spent the entirety of the game trying to knock the Chasers off course. The pair of you have made them drop the Quaffle so many times you’re beginning to lose count. Your aim is so precise that the Bludgers find their mark each time, much to Hannah’s chagrin. Hobi is the calmer of the two of you, more interested in blocking shots than actually trying to hit anyone. You, however, are relentless. You have no interest in hurting anyone, especially not the Hufflepuffs, but you’ve gotten your fair share of near-misses. One particularly strong whack of your bat nearly took off Arabella Matthews’ head at the beginning of the game. Were you anyone else, you wouldn’t dare risk hitting a Bludger so close to someone; but you’re you, and you know that you’re skilled enough to keep the other players out of harm’s way.

And Yoongi — Yoongi is about to catch the Snitch.

You’re so focused on the Chasers speeding past you that it takes you a moment to notice it, but notice it you do. He’s been staying out of the action the entire time, opting to circle around the field in search of your golden ticket to victory. Aside from warning you of an incoming Bludger at one point, you haven’t given each other a spare glance since the game started. Now, though, as he takes off in a nosedive towards the ever-elusive ball, you can’t take your eyes off of him. Both you and Hobi cheer for him as he follows it towards the Ravenclaw stands, and even from across the field you can hear Jungkook shouting words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this Yoongi!” Your words are frantic, rushed, tumbling out of your mouth before you can even process them. You pay them no mind. Even the Bludgers have been forgotten. All you can do is watch Yoongi follow the Snitch, mere feet away from him. Your heart is beating with such ferocity that you can feel it slamming against your ribs, but you truly don’t care. The sun in your eyes, the chanting of the crowd, Hobi’s elated presence at your side — it all fades away. The only thing you care about is your friend.

The Hufflepuff Seeker has yet to notice his opponent’s disappearance in the sky, which only makes your grin widen. His housemates are screaming at him, gesturing frantically towards Yoongi and urging him to follow, but it’s too late. The entire arena watches with bated breath as Yoongi leans forward on his broom, thrusts his arm forward as far as it will go, stretches his fingers to the brink of snapping, grits his teeth, and —

“AND THAT’S IT! MIN YOONGI HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS!”

You and Hobi scream and throw your arms up victoriously, smiling like idiots all the while. You’re drenched in sweat and fairly certain your arms are about to fall off out of sheer exhaustion, but you couldn’t care less. A familiar warmth swells in your chest as you watch the Slytherins erupt in applause, a sensation you haven’t felt since you were fifteen years old. It only grows more intense when your eyes land on Jungkook, who is jumping up and down while he shouts Yoongi’s name. When you see Taehyung, though, you’re fairly certain you’re going to melt from the inside out — because he’s smiling up at you with the most adoring expression you’ve ever seen on another human being, and it makes you go weak in the knees.

Your teammates hurry to the ground, eager to embrace Yoongi and congratulate him for the victory, but you don’t follow. You’re proud of Yoongi, make no mistake — he’s come a long way from the scrawny little boy you met on the common room couch in first year — but you have other things to attend to. You swear your broom moves of it’s own accord as you speed towards the stands. Hobi is giving you an odd look from the corner of his eye, one you pointedly ignore. You have no time for his questions right now.

Jungkook is racing towards you the moment your feet hit the stands, but for once, he’s not the one you’re there for. He’s confused, that much you’re sure of, because he knows that you know he’s sitting with the Gryffindors, but you’ve landed in the Hufflepuff section. Part of you feels guilty for not immediately running to meet up with him, but you brush it off. You know he’ll forgive you for momentarily moving him to the back burner, especially when he sees what you’re about to do.

It’s a bad idea, and you know that. But when you finally meet Taehyung’s glimmering eyes, you know there’s no point in trying to stop yourself. He opens his mouth to congratulate you, to tell you how amazing you were out there, but you don’t give him the chance. Before he can even get the first syllable out, you’ve thrown your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into the most bone-crushing hug you’ve given in years.

He freezes for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden display of affection. It’s caught you off guard too, to be honest — of all the things you’re known for around here, tenderness is not one of them. You don’t even hug your friends that often, and you’ve known them since you had braces. It hasn’t even been two months since you met Taehyung, and yet here you are, arms wrapped firmly around his back with your head resting atop his shoulder. It’s stupid, and you know it’s stupid, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself even if you wanted to...which, to be honest, you didn’t. You try not to think about what that might mean.

Mercifully, he returns the gesture when the shock wears off. He wraps his arms gently around your waist, hesitantly, as if he’s expecting you to come to your senses and pull away at any second. It isn’t until a few moments have passed that he actually tightens his grip, though it still doesn’t rival the hold you’ve got on him. You’re hugging him so tightly you’re shocked he can still breathe properly. He doesn’t seem to mind. Rather than push you away or question this rather abrupt attempt at kindness, he simply pulls you close and rocks you back and forth. You make no move to leave his grip.

You’re fully aware of how odd this is. The two of you only cemented your friendship a couple weeks ago, and you’ve certainly never done anything quite this affectionate before. You’ve playfully pushed his shoulder, sure, and he smiles at you every time you look at him, but neither of you have ever made a move to hug one another. It makes absolutely no sense for you to spring this on him; but dear god, the urge to throw yourself at him was so overwhelming it actually caught you off guard. Of all the post-game activities you’ve taken part in over the years — swimming in the lake, sneaking out to the Three Broomsticks with your teammates, downing an entire bottle of firewhiskey in one sitting — you’ve never done anything quite as bizarre as this.

But as he rests his head on your shoulder blade, you realize that you don’t regret it one bit.

The two of you don’t pull away until someone clears their throat behind you. It’s so loud and intrusive that you don’t even need to look to know who it is, though you turn on your heel nonetheless. Sure enough, Hobi is standing right there, arms folded and an insufferably smug grin on his face. Yoongi and Jungkook flank him on either side, looking at you with such teasing smirks that you have to restrain yourself from smacking them. None of them seem at all fazed by the death glare you shoot them.

“Well, who do we have here?” Hobi inquires with a playful lilt in his voice. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, silently taunting you, and you’ve never wanted to punch someone more in your entire life. He knows this, you’re sure, which only makes his grin grow wider as he looks at Taehyung. “Don’t be rude, Y/N. Introduce us to your...friend.”

If Taehyung wasn’t standing right next to you, you would push Hobi over the edge of the stands without a second thought. As it is, you simply grit your teeth and gesture towards your blue-haired companion, silently hoping that your friends don’t scare him away. “Guys, this is Taehyung. Tae, these are my friends: Hobi, Yoongi, and Jungkook.”

The boys wave at him as you call out their names, each with a sickeningly smug grin. Whether Taehyung doesn’t recognize the satisfaction written across their faces or simply elects to ignore it, you don’t know, but he offers them a kind wave and a bright smile nonetheless.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely. “Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

Hobi’s smirk only grows. “Funny. I was about to say the exact same thing.”

You’re only a second away from turning your best friend into a toad when another familiar (and exceedingly annoying) voice calls out to you.

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you. Behaving yourself, I hope?”

It’s your turn to smirk now, entirely too pleased with yourself as you turn on your heel to greet Namjoon. Taehyung’s other friends are behind him, each grinning and waving at you in greeting. The head boy, however, does no such thing. The smile he flashes at you is painfully fake, so much so that you wonder why he bothers wearing it at all. The unfamiliar Ravenclaw boy behind him elbows his side, and he coughs to conceal his groan of pain. Whoever this guy is, you just know you’re going to like him.

“Aw, you know me, Namjoon. I’m always on my best behavior.” He doesn’t buy your words for a second, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Who are your friends?”

He moves to introduce them, but the Ravenclaw boy shoves him out of the way and outstretches his hand towards you. You shake it with a quick laugh. “Park Jimin, at your service,” he introduces almost valiantly. “You must be this Y/N I’ve heard so much about.”

“Guilty.”

Namjoon sighs and gestures towards their Hufflepuff companion, who you could have sworn you caught staring at Hobi for a moment. “This is Kim Seokjin. Jin, this is — .”

“Y/N!” The boy offers you the most blinding smile you’ve ever seen as he surges forward to shake your hand. It actually takes you a moment to collect yourself, entirely caught off guard by the wildly positive energy this guy is radiating. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Taehyung talks about you all the time.”

His comment has your brows flying towards your hairline. A quick glance at Taehyung shows him frantically shaking his head, silently urging Jin to shut up, but it’s too late; you’re already smiling at him. His cheeks darken under your gaze, and you can’t stop yourself from chuckling. It’s nice to know that you make him as nervous as he makes you, if only because it means that you aren’t imagining things. It’s flattering, having someone like him think so highly of you. You only hope he hasn’t talked you up too much; you’d hate to disappoint him.

It’s abundantly clear that Hobi’s about to say something embarrassing when he laughs beneath his breath and opens his mouth again, but you don’t even let him get the first syllable out. Your hand claps over his mouth with such force that you might as well have slapped him. On any other day, you would have felt bad for using such force; now, you kind of wish you’d hit him harder. Rather than let him fight you off and tell Taehyung something else he doesn’t need to know, you push him back and call out to Tae over your shoulder.

“Well, it’s been nice talking you to Tae, but we should probably be getting back to the locker room now! Bye!”

It takes only a second for you to realize that you’ve got another traitor in your midst.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook shouts with an evil grin, “don’t tell me you aren’t gonna invite them to the after party!”

I need new friends.

You chuckle and awkwardly rub the back of your head, purposefully avoiding Taehyung’s eyes as you speak. “Right! Right, uh, the after party. Um, it’s in the common room tonight. Nine o’clock. You’re all more than welcome! Er, if you wanna come, I mean. No pressure or anything.”

Taehyung smiles and nods, but says nothing else. You suspect he wants to talk it over with his friends, which is more than fine with you, since it gives you more time to escape. You’re almost certain he’s about to say something, but you don’t give him a chance. Without so much as a second glance, you grab Jungkook and Hobi by their ears and drag them off towards the locker room, offering only a small wave to Tae.

The boys wince and try to push you away, but your grip is iron-clad. Yoongi can’t stop himself from laughing when you crouch down and whisper in their ears.

“I’m gonna kill you both.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: TAEYN ARE SO ADORABLE I CANNOT STAND THESE PEOPLE. I hope you’re all as infuriated by this slow-burn as I am. Next update coming tomorrow! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist💕 — Rynn

tag list: @wannabestark @deepseavibez @taeshuworld @lele-bb @hxseok-honee @burningupp-replies @livorna @lovelytaes-blog @theclawofaraven

[hardtchill]

Hey! Feel free to share this or not, but I thought it might help the person who asked about being nonbinary.

I first started questioning my gender about five years ago, and still go back and forth through some of the feelings that that ask described! Sometimes I feel like I’m no closer to an “answer” than I was years ago. But one thing that’s helped a lot is realizing that I have fairly minimal dysphoria and mainly experience being nonbinary through euphoria instead. I use she/her pronouns at work and with family, and it’s just kind of whatever. I’m somewhat uncomfortable with my chest, but usually opt for a sports bra over a binder. I have long hair and a pretty standard sporty, soft butch aesthetic and am generally seen as a woman, and I’m mostly fine with it. I love women and femininity and queerness and everything that exists outside of the patriarchy, but “woman” just isn’t a label I really connect with personally, nor does it bring me anything more than minor discomfort.

Sometimes all of that has me wondering if I really am nonbinary. But then when someone uses they/them pronouns for me or I do decide to bind or put on an outfit that I’m really into, I just feel badass and confident and whole in a way that’s hard to describe. When I find it harder to channel that (which has happened a lot throughout the pandemic), I’ll close my eyes and take a deep breath and think of a couple different moments—my ex referring to me as “they” to friends for the first time, a Halloween costume that I felt amazing in, the first time I tried on a binder—where everything just felt right.

That may not resonate with everybody because gender is fucking complicated and everyone experiences it differently, but it has been really helpful for me. Totally second your recommendation to experiment with things like binding and packing and having friends use different pronouns too! Good luck to the person who asked about it and anyone else who needs it.

I love this ask, thank you anon.

I think sometimes we're (as in me lmao) so focused on the dysphoria side (because it hurts like hell) that we/i forget to focus on the euphoria side.

I'm sometimes so busy trying to fight my dysphoria that i forget to look and search for euphoria. Thank you for the reminder 🖤

@h3llish tagging you so you won’t miss this helpful ask

[imnotwolverine]

The Accidental Family - Chapter 1

Henry Cavill x OFC multi-chapter

Chap 1 - Coming Home | Chap 2 >

Disclaimer: Fluff, some strong language 

Word count: 2.364

Author’s note: Are you ready for some confused Henry-fluff, my baby sweets? I really could use something to focus on now we’re in full lockdown during the Christmas days *ugly cries* -- So, dear fellow quarantine babies: I hope you’ll enjoy the story! 

Also, special thanks to my babe @darkbooksarwin​ for helping out with giving shape to this story and pointing me at some of the technicalities of brain injury and memory loss. ❤️

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Say. What would you do if you’d one day wake up without a single memory of the last five years? Would you be like super soldier Hardcore Henry, defeating an army of bad guys? Would you return to the world in white robes, to help Hobbits on their journey to destroy one evil piece of jewellery? Or, would you perhaps be bed-ridden while you’re forced to watch yet another re-run of the Price Is Right on one far too small hospital tv? 

Well, for Henry it was unfortunately the latter. 

And where he had been ever enthusiastic to get back to work and pick up his life, the doctors thought otherwise, their voices all agreeing on one thing; he had to “take it easy”. 

Take it easy? Take it easy?! He had just skipped five years of his life! Let’s be real now! One cannot “take it easy”, when one moment you’re the main character of one of Netflix’s hit series, working 14 hour workdays, only to find yourself bedridden the next. Didn’t they need him? Didn’t they need Superman? Geralt? ..Him?

It felt a bit like he had been the first Doctor to step into the Tardis. Confused, but sharp of mind. Or, perhaps the Gandalf comparison was better; he had fought the Balrog of Khazad-dûm - or in his case some ghost riding idiot on the M5 on his motorcycle, only to return to the world as a different person..in a different time, the past five years a bit of white noise in the back of his brain.  

The one clear differentiation between him and Gandalf’s return being, that Henry had not lost “the One Ring”, but gained one, his left ring finger now sporting a pretty golden band that matched the one on the restless hands of the woman driving him home right this moment.

Returning his attention to her, he watched her, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel as her stormy blue eyes zipped over the chaotic traffic of the London city streets, her teeth biting in focus on her lower lip.  

She was his wife, apparently - a thought that both amused and frightened him. How in the hacking hell could he not remember having a wife?

Henry had always been good with people. Remembering faces, names, little details. But with her? His wife? He couldn’t even remember where or how they'd met. Matter of fact: he couldn’t remember any woman with this kind of sweet, heart shaped face, her eyes the shade of midnight blue and her hair so golden it might have been woven by Rumplestiltskin herself.

This whole thing was rather absurd.

Had someone told him he would one day wake up in a hospital bed sporting grey streaks in his hair and a scar the size of a small coin on his skull, the memories of his past 5 years erased, he’d have laughed hard. 

But, hello there new Henry, here you are.

Scratching at the edges of the itchy scar, Henry leaned into his arm, his aquamarine gaze quietly studying the blond woman.

*scratch scratch*

‘He-hey, don’t touch that.’ The blondine admonished, blindly swatting her hand in the direction of his shoulder - and missing - before she quickly reverted her attention back to the traffic, her foot pressing a bit too fiercely on the gas pedal, making the both of them jolt back in their seats.

‘WOA. CALM DOWN WOMAN.’ Henry gripped for the dashboard and gave her an exasperated look, her lips offering him a quick apologetic smile.  

‘Sorry. You usually drive.’

There it was again, one of those strange references to a life he couldn’t remember. A life that included stacks of family pictures and a car with kids seats and the smell of baby wipes and fake forest mint - he’d get rid of that stupid air refreshener the moment he could.

‘Come on…’ His wife grumbled at the traffic, her lips turning in a pout of pure focus as she tried to push the nose of the car between two sporty low riders on the right lane. ‘MOVE BITCH.’

Henry’s eyes widened at her words, the both of them laughing before she could apologise again.

‘Good gods woman. And how often DID you drive?’

‘Not too often. You were ever the gentleman.’ Her tongue poked out in sheer focus as she managed to squeeze the van into the new lane, a triumphant sigh escaping her lips before she looked back at him, making them both grin.

‘You okay, babe?’ She asked, halting the car again as they had to wait for a red light.

Babe. The simple word made his heart flutter ever so slightly, though he still wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing. An unease settled in his stomach as he looked ahead, the traffic a long string of red chimy lights that sparkled in the dusk of this cool May night, small pools of rain water mirroring the ache he must have caused this woman, his wife. Even as she now offered him a warm, sweet smile, he could see the tired hollowness that burnished her pretty face with dark eye circles and pale skin.

Henry wondered if SHE was okay, but then again..was he? He sighed and tried to relax as the car awoke again under the nervous press of her foot, his hand staying splayed out on the dash as he prayed to all that was holy that he wouldn’t get into yet another mind erasing traffic accident.

One was more than enough, thank you very much.

--

The night had wrapped the familiar Mews houses in a blanket of drab darkness and, as Henry waited for his wife to fight with the door lock, he could hear the hum of engines in the distance, this area about as quiet as you could find in the middle of London.

At least that hadn’t changed.

Smiling a little, he returned his attention to all the details he had somehow missed so much. The dents in the blue front door. The lock that wouldn’t budge before you’d twiddle with the key a little. And his trusty four pawed friend at the other side, nails tapping excitedly at the hardwood floors.

Home.

With a strange ache in his heart Henry followed the blonde woman into the house, her hand flicking over the light switch before Henry was attacked by a flurry of furry warmth and doggy licks.

‘KALLL! Kal, Kal, Kal! Hey good boy..’ Henry smiled as the large Akita near jumped up in his arms, excitement making the dog roll over onto his shoes, his proffered belly begging for a good scratch. Henry bent over to do just that, only to find himself grasping for his head as a sharp pain rushed up his scalp, a loud ring in his ears making him flinch.

‘Ah..!’ He exclaimed softly, but it wasn’t soft enough for the woman to miss, her feet quickly stepping back to him as she coddled him with soft finger strokes and gentle words.

‘Heyyyy..hey..calm.’ Henry could hear the slight worry in her voice, and he fought hard to open his eyes to at least look at her, unfamiliar love and care sparking between the both of them. ‘It’s okay.’ She breathed. ‘You’re okay. Let’s just..eh..get you up to bed, yea?’ She quickly stepped back and licked her lip, unsure of how to proceed with her stranger-of-a-husband.

Henry felt another painful jolt ring up through his skull, and so he could only nod in defeat, eyes clenching closed as he let the woman lead him up to the master bedroom.

Before long he was safely wrapped in the familiar smell of his own sheets, the bedroom a safe haven that had changed little except for the signs of a person that had slept on the other pillow, her smell still lingering.

That same smell now stepped into the doorway in the shapely appearance of dark jeans with hastily washed off toothpaste stains and a comfy cable knit sweater, long blond tresses cascading over her shoulders. She had taken the moment to get rid of their jackets and calm down Kal. 

‘You comfortable? I’m just going to message the day nurse to give her an update on...’ The woman hesitated, and then simply shrugged.

‘Yea, thank you,..eh..’ Henry felt a lump form in his throat as he realised he couldn’t remember her name, his face turning a blank at the rise of her mischievous eyebrows.

Shit.

‘Say now Mr. Cavill, have you forgotten my ..name?’ Her tired lips curled up in a smile.

‘I …’

It’s like she was making him sweat on purpose, her smile growing ever so slightly.

‘Bee?’ He tried.

She chuckled, a silent relief unclenching the tightness in her shoulders. ‘Well there’s one thing you remember. Or did you pick that up when I was on the phone?’

‘It was the phone.’

She sighed, knowing it had been too good to be true, her head shaking. ‘Shucks. Anyways. It’s Phoebe, or Feebs. Though Bee is the general “go to”.’ She marched out to the larger dresser, her fingers quietly clicking open one of the doors to retrieve some fresh linens. ‘And I used to call you Bear, in case you wonder. But eh, I guess that’s for another time.’ She heaved the pile of white cotton in her arm and gave him a puzzled look. ‘Or, maybe never.’ She quickly turned on her heel, her lips barely managing to hide the sadness that licked at her words.  

Henry smiled gently. ‘Thank you Phoebe-Bee.’

Her shoulders tensed up again. ‘I’ll..eh..be in one of the other -’

‘Wait, you’re not sleeping..?’ His voice trailed off as he looked at the slightly tousled sheets and pillow next to him - he knew she used to sleep there.

‘No, no. I’ll be right next -’

‘You can sleep here if you want.’

He had hoped the words would bring her comfort, but all he released was sorrow, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she looked over her shoulder at him.

‘I-I...oh, fuck, this is so silly.’ She quickly wiped the tear away, her body turning back again so she could hide the anguish that wrecked behind her light hearted facade. ‘I’m sorry, let’s just..’

‘Phoebe,’ Henry pleaded, earning a soft sniffle from her. ‘hey. Come now sweetheart. Come here.’

And like he hoped, these dark chocolate words did bring some sort of comfort, a short chuckle escaping her lips as she slowly shook her head. ‘You used to say that a lot.’

‘Well, you bet I did! And if you keep crying like that, I’ll come over to you instead!’ He pushed the sheets off, revealing his black boxers and two muscular long legs. 

For a moment he could see her look down over her shoulder, look down at him, guilty eyes not daring to really look to much before Henry’s gentle arm wrapped around her back as he escorted her to the edge of the mattress, her body eagerly leaning into him as they both sat down, more tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Now, settle down, sugar.’ He hushed, brushing away some of the golden hair that curtained her stormy eyes.

Again he could feel a slight tingle in his loins, and, for all it was worth, Henry hoped that it could be a sign that he would remember her soon. Even if it was just a little. With a tender caress he brushed his palm over her back, his eyes studying her silhouette in the lowlights of the bedroom. She looked exhausted, her hands desperately clutching onto the messy white pile of sheets in her arms.

They sat like that for a moment. In a confusingly friendly manner, her breathing slowly calming and tears drying on her cheeks. 

‘Hey. If you promise not to bite, neither will I, okay?’

His words were met with a confused rise of her left eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘Biting bed bugs I can survive, but biting wives? I’m..eh..hahah, not so sure.’

Finally, that sweet smile of hers returned. ‘Oh Bear.’

‘Hi Bee,’ He returned her sweet smile and moved up his hand to brush a thumb over her cheek. ‘let’s both get some sleep, okay?’

Slowly, hesitantly, her gaze merged with his, an uncertainty still lingering deep in her midnight blues as she nodded her head yes. ‘Okay.’

And so, minutes later, Henry found himself in his bed with a wife. His wife, her sweet soft snores heard moments after her head had hit the pillow, her blonde hair splayed out over the dove grey satin. Again, he felt his stomach wring, but now it was with guilt, because as he looked at her sleeping form, darkness hiding most of her face, he could still see the pull of her eyebrows, the concerns of life not leaving her even in her sleep.

Henry sighed quietly and turned on his back, his eyes studying the familiar ceiling above his head, dark beams running long lines over a canvas of white. He had a million questions he still needed answers to. And, from the way people had evaded some of his questions, he knew there was still a lot to unpack; he hadn’t even been allowed to use his phone or laptop in the hospital. Then again, now he at least had someone who probably knew it all.

A wife. How about that?

Smiling to himself, he wondered what he would do tomorrow now his every step was no longer monitored by the hawk-like eyes of the hospital staff. He could like..start making phone calls. Or send some e-mails. Or better yet... figure out what was up with the tiny details that referred to..children. Children’s seats. Smells. And.. did he see Lego pieces strewn around in the hallway?

Children, could you imagine? Henry, a dad? Sniffling in amusement, Henry turned his face back to the woman next to him. Where were the children anyways? Had she been a single mom when they met? Was a crazy ex now taking care of her brood? Did she miss them? Miss him? The ..old Henry?

No, don’t think of that.

Sighing again, Henry’s lips opened, the words so gentle he hoped it wouldn’t wake her. ‘Good night Bee.’ He watched as she shifted a little, but didn’t wake. ‘and thank you. This must be as weird for you as it’s for me, but at least we’re ..home, hmm?’ He watched her silhouette a moment longer and then turned away, the familiar streak of light from the streetlight seeping in through the cracked open door. 

If only he could remember what had happened. 

--

Chap 2 >

--

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[inmyarmswrappedin]

hello! :) I was wondering what was your opinion on the davenzi argument and I love you scene at the pool (episode 9 clip 7)? Did you like it or not really (including everything like acting, pacing, what they said, etc)

Hi anon! 🎷 Lmao I hope you weren’t looking for a critical opinion, because that’s one of my favorite s3 scenes. I really like it by itself, as a remake of O Helga Natt, and also for teenie characters being dumb reasons.

Okay so:

David’s voicemail for Matteo: While I consider Even’s text a straight up s*icide note, I think David’s voicemail plays with the idea of, is it a s*icide note or is it a goodbye message? If Matteo goes to the pool, is David going to be there, or will it be too late (in both a s*icide and a goodbye sense of late)? I also obviously love that David finally shares in Matteo’s worldview. Throughout the season, David has denied he believes in fate, but in this message he says that fate wasn’t on their side, i.e. he has given the idea that he and Matteo are fated some thought. Later in the scene, David also asks Matteo to run away together! When he previously said that he’d run away alone in the case of a catastrophe. Like, this is David internalizing Matteo’s worldview and using it to express himself.

When the season was dropping, and because the dynamic in so many of their scenes was reversed compared to Isak and Even, I thought that it would be David who would tell Matteo he’s not alone. Matteo was the one to say he didn’t want to be alone, so it just made sense to me that they’d change this up. I also have an unpopular opinion, which is that I think The Weeknd’s Call Out My Name was a fitting song for the soundtrack and the clip it showed up in. The thing is, Matteo really did make David his priority throughout the season, he dumped Sara for David, he followed David’s lead and only really pushed that one time. When the song says, “falling for you was my mistake,” for me, it’s about the fact that David keeps running away from him despite Matteo being 100% in and Matteo being clear that he hated being abandoned, not about David being trans. (I mean, I get my interpretation doesn’t totally make sense in the context of this scene, but I love the song and I think my interpretation still works, so let me have this thing please lol.) All this to say that I felt Matteo had a right to be “what the hell, David!!” in this scene, because at this point Matteo has been running after David for around 24 houts, and David’s like, “I guess this is goodbye :(” 

I don’t think Call Me By Your Name deserves a bop such as Visions of Gideon, so I’m pleased that Druck reclaimed it for David and Matteo, who are ten times more deserving than Elio and Oliver. I also think it provides enough tension for the scene, because it’s a goodbye song, and at this point we don’t know if David’s even going to be at the pool.

But it turns out that it was just a goodbye note, and maybe not even a goodbye note. Maybe it was an “I’m sad please come find me :(” note. (Sidenote to say that I love David’s flair for the dramatic lmao.) I would love to wax poetic on what David’s state of mind was at this point, like did he think Matteo would show up? I think he at least hoped Matteo would, since he gave Matteo every clue to find him. And it’s not like he was getting ready to leave lmao, he was just chilling and doodling. 

Anyway, while I think Matteo had every right to say, “are you kidding me!!” I also want to make it clear I don’t discount David’s pov. From a narrative pov, I think it was really important that David gets to talk in this scene. In Skam, we get a lot of little hints and clues as to how Even feels about what went down in Elvebakken the previous year, including his snapping at Sonja in the Halloween clip. This is the first and only time we get to hear about this part of David’s backstory (since it wasn’t part of Amira’s season, unlike Even’s in Sana’s). So, in episode 1 we were told that David switched schools with only a few weeks of his last year left, and in this episode we get to hear exactly why. 

And also, like, I love that David gets to be angry about how unfair it all was. In fiction, victims of bullying (and esp LGBTphobic bullying) can be presented as sort of martyred saints who don’t get to have an emotion other than sad. I think anger is a very valid emotion if deployed in the right moment (obviously I’m not advocating for Sporty Spice to continue being an asshole lmao), and in general I’m a fan of marginalized characters getting to be angry.

Again, I could wax poetic forever about how David has seen himself as going it alone all this time, even as he’s been picking up friends (and a boyfriend) left and right. I don’t necessarily think that Matteo’s friends would’ve organized a whole meeting to help David out, if they hadn’t known that David and Matteo were a thing, but like... That’s it. The fact that David responded to Matteo, that he opened up to Matteo, that he made Matteo visibly happier, resulted in Matteo’s friends caring about David in return, which is very true of real life. David had every reason not to open up to Matteo given his experiences, but he did and he trusted Matteo and, because of that, he was rewarded!!!!

And yes, from their very first scene together, it was very clear that Matteo thought David was the coolest guy he’d ever seen. Love all the throwbacks in this scene.

Matteo also has experience with going through really rough times, but he has always disliked being alone, and in the course of the season, he’s also learned that isolating himself only makes things harder. It’d be so easy for the writers to have Matteo say, “it’s all gonna be okay,” but that’s not what Matteo is saying. Matteo says yes, going back to school after you were outed is going to suck, having to confront Neuhaus is going to suck, it’s not going to be okay or easy, but this isn’t how the story ends or how your school year ends, because I’m not leaving, and I love you and I want to be with you and by your side. Everything is going to be awful, but we’re going to face it together. 

And I just fucking love that David was having a breakdown five seconds ago, and when we see him again after Matteo says he loves him, we can see by his profile that he’s grinning from ear to ear. Knowing that he’s loved changes everything for him, as it should!! He’s not a shitty vampire cast aside from society! He, David Schreibner, is loved by the person he loves in return!!!!!! I loved that the pics Matteo posted after this scene show David making dumb faces because that’s what first love is like babey! Catastrophizing one second and all smiles the next. 

Annnd the episode closes with the same song it started with, Hozier’s Take Me To Church. Only this time it’s the chorus, which is celebratory and joyful, as opposed to the contemplative tone of the first verses. 

[astralis01]

Tim Drake X Sister!Reader: Diary

The boys were going through the old stuff that was piled up in the attic. Actually no, they were ordered by Alfred to clean the attic. No one dared defy Alfred, no one was going to face the angry british butler. No one was there the whole afternoon as the manor had cleared of people except them for the afternoon. Alfred and Bruce were out and Y/n was out, caught up in her work.

Tim was looking over through some papers when he stumbled over a box. He looked down and picked it and dusted of the top. On the top was a neat handwriting saying ‘(Y/n) Drake’s memories.’ He opened the box and on the top were some photos on the top. Tim picked up the photos. The first one was of their parents. In the next photo, Tim saw that there was a baby in his parents arms, with bright blue eyes. The next photo was of Tim and (Y/n) standing together in front of the Drake Manor. The next one was of all of them.

Jason shouted from one end, “Timmy, found anything interesting?” When Tim did not respond, all three of them went to the spot where he was standing. They saw Tim open a diary. Dick saw the drawings in front and squealed. Tim jumped a little but went on flipping.

For the first few pages, there were drawings and then writings started popping up. Then were the first pages of coherent writing. it said, “Mother and Father came home and brought a brother. They said his name was Timothy. Too long. He is going to be called Timmy.”

Tim smiled at that. The next page read, “Mother and Father bad. Left Timmy with me. I don’t know how to take care of Timmy very well.” Jason frowned at this. Weren’t they supposed to take care of their child at that age? His parents were not the best but he had figured out how to live on his own but (Y/n) couldn’t barely be five at that time.

The next entry was “Timmy is one now. Mother and Father were not home so I took Tim out to the playground. I also made him a cake.” Dick frowned and asked, “Tim, why weren’t you’re parents in the house?” Tim shrugged and said, “ Our  parents weren’t the most parental people out there.” Dick was a little worried by the amount of nonchalantly he said that.

The next page read, “Timmy started rolling today. Mother and Father still not home so I had stop Timmy from falling off the bed.” With that was a small drawing of a child on the bed, trying to roll off. The next entry read, “Timmy started to walk a bit. He looks like a little penguin while he walks. Very cute.” The others laughed at that description of baby Tim.

The next entry said, “Timmy is a late speaker, according to the phone but he said his word today. It was (N/n). That was really cute.” They all smiled at that. The next entry said “Mother and Father finally had the time and took us to Haly’s Circus for an outing. It was really nice but then the sad thing happened. Dick Grayson was left alone. I feel sad for him. I was going to go down there but Mother stopped me and dragged me outside.” 

The next entry said, “Good news. A lot of good news. Its raining good news. There is a new hero in town-Robin and I also made a new friend Jason Todd. We ate out at his favorite place. It was really nice. Also, I started learning MMA.” Damian said, “Wow, did not expect Todd and her to be friends before we all met.” Jason grinned and said, “Well, don’t I live to disappoint.” Dick said, “Isn’t anyone going to comment on how she was learning MMA when she was about seven years. Everybody ignored and continued to flip the pages of the diary.

The next entry said, “Today was my eight birthday. Mother and Father were still not here but this year I stopped hoping. I learned how to hack things. Now, is the the big price. The Bat Computer.” They stopped and Tim exclaimed, “She did not tell me about that.” He flipped the page and read, “Mission successful. I hacked the computer. I found out the identities of Batman and Robin. Beat that.” 

They flipped the page and Tim read, “While we were eating dinner, mother got angry at father today and threw a knife at him. Being the terrible aim she is, the knife went towards Timmy. Thankfully, I caught it  before it went for his head. They did not even apologize! At this point, I am ready to run away and take Jay’s offer but then Tim would be alone.”

Jason asked, “Timmy, why didn’t you tell us about this?” Tim said, “Did not think that it was important.” Dick then said, “They flung a knife at you, of course it is important.” Tim sat there, uncomfortable, under their stares and said, “Can we continue reading?”

Dick took the book from him and read, “I know I haven’t written in a while. I was busy a lot. Doing school and those ridiculous extra classes of dancing with Tim. I mean, I love spending time with him but truly, he will be more graceful than me anyday. I am more of a sporty person anyway. My parents, they got separated so here I am again, being Tim’s guardian. He is an angel child. Also, earlier Robin became Nightwing and then Jason is now Robin.” He flipped the page and the next page read, “Timmy had a show today. Mother and father still did not come but I was there. He danced wonderfully. I’m just so sorry for him. He could not have a wonderful childhood.”

Dick was glaring hard towards the leather-bound diary. He did not want to blow up in front of them but it was becoming increasingly hard for him. The next page read, “Jay came to me a few times to talk, to clear his head. It was nice to have him as a friend. That meant Joker had to pay for kidnapping him. But before that, I have to find him. Timmy cries a lot these days because of the news of the newest Robin getting kidnapped. He preferred Jason  as a Robin.” Jason leaned over, smirking and said, “Timmy, you liked me as a Robin. Now, you’re making me guilty for trying to kill you.” Tim blushed and Dick continued to read the next page.

“Here we are. Tim and me in front of Dick Grayson because Timmy is now trying to be Robin and like hell am I going to let him do it alone.” Damian said, “Tt, even she knew that you could not be trusted on your own, Drake.” He was ignored by them all again.

The next page read, “So we have a new job. Me as (H/n) and Timmy as Robin. It was real cute when Bruce offered him the old Robin’s costume but I’m pretty sure I am not going to allow him to fight Gotham wearing green scaled pants.” That gave a few laughs and the next page read, “What a day. My parents died. I feel very less remorse at that but Tim-father and him were getting closer and with the older Robin trying to kill him and Bruce piling case files and school work on him, I doubt he is going to get any sleeping hours.”

The others looked at him and he shrugged and said, “It was tough times people, but she threatened me to sleep for at least two hours per day.”

The next page read ‘Hit list’ but before they could read further than Joker, they heard (Y/n) behind them, leaning forward to take the diary.

Jason asked, “Are you secretly a sniper because you sure do have a hit list.”

(Y/n) grinned and said, “Hit list means that hitting them hard every time they escape because hitting harder always works.”

Tim leaned forward and said, “Why was there no entry from the time when Damian was Robin?”

The smile from her face diminished and she said, “I was in a bad place Timmy. The family I always had was broken of sorts but Bruce being gone, destroyed the whole family. I had no one, everybody was in their own bubbles. Earlier, at least I had you but then, no one was there. But now, I’m getting better because I don’t have the whole ‘emotions are dangerous. Only face them when you are about to explode’ thing.”

Damian crossed his arms and said, “We do not do that.”

Jason and Dick pouted while Tim was hanging of (Y/n)’s back, in his effort of trying to calm her, soothe her.

(Y/n) said, “Oh really, then prove me wrong.”

[axther]

black tie occasion (and other little things that make you fall in love)

prompt: slow dancing

bakugou katsuki x reader 

rule number one of proms: there’s always a balcony 

Dedicated to @heroinepose​ - finally, a good bakugou fic

Thanks to @add-a-teaspoon-of-heroism​ for giving the idea of a suit. Nish, your mind-

Thank you to @samanthaa-leanne​ for beta’ing for me!! 

Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t much of a smiler, YN had concluded. 

Sure, he smiled, but it was more the kind of smile that brought a chill into your bones, especially if you were at the receiving end of it. There were smiles that he had around his friends, but they were still guarded, still angry. 

YN had made it her goal to see Bakugou smile, for real. 

Truthfully speaking, she hadn’t known Bakugou for very long. She entered Class 1-B and saw him in intermediate periods. He was growly and big and angry, and yet, YN found him endearing. It went without saying that most of her class was confused, but YN let them stay confused. She went with what her heart said, and her heart said that the bundle of rage was more than he let on. 

“A prom? What the hell?” 

Speak of the devil. 

YN paused mid-step from the lunchroom to glance over at the spiky blonde. Surrounding him was his posse, all powerful quirk users in their own rights. The red-haired one, Kirishima, patted Bakugou on the back. 

“Wow! A real prom!” She giggled, linking arms with Mina. 

“Don’t sweat it, bro! We can get some cute dates, have a nice night, and get some good food!”

“Aren’t proms an American thing…?” Sero murmured. “Why now?”

“I know!” Seemingly out of nowhere, Midoriya Izuku popped up with a nervous grin. His own group of friends were close by, and Ochako skipped to the info board with a smile. 

“It’s to create a sense of unity. It’s for all the classes in the first year, and since there’s such a rivalry between the classes, Principal Nezu wanted everyone to have an evening together!” Midoriya listed it off like he was a dictionary, and YN titled her head. 

“Something the matter?” 

Shinsou’s voice came directly behind YN and she jumped with a squeak. Several heads turned (though not Bakugou’s notably) at her cry, and Shinsou chuckled. 

“You looking at the board?” He hummed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. The strap of her bag was jostled. “Or at Bakugou?” 

“None of the above,” YN huffed, turning away. “I was looking at the expanse between time and space.” 

“What the hell?” His nose scrunched up a little, watching her walk away with sass. He shook his head before glancing over at Bakugou, who was absorbed in berating Kaminari over something. His eyes flicked from him to YN, who was nearly skipping down the hall. Shinsou placed his hands in his pockets.

“Huh.” 

The next month has filled with a buzz, between students asking each other out and someone actually asking Midnight if she could be their date. It was a month of pure giddiness. 

Except for YN. 

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the courage to ask Bakugou to the dance. She knew several other people had asked him and he had turned all of them down, spitting insults the entire way. With every rejection, fear crawled into her heart. 

“Where’s all that lion-heart gusto?” Shinso told her on the Monday before the prom. “Weren’t you raring to go?” 

“Oh, you hush.” YN sat at her usual lunch table, watching the rabid blonde growl and bark at his friends about something. 

“Personally, I’m kinda glad.” 

YN sat upright almost immediately, fury on her face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Shinsou laid back with his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He hummed. “I wanted to ask you. You’re my only girl friend, after all.” 

YN’s brow went from furrowed to upturned, eyes wide and cheeks pink.

“Shinsou, you bastard. I thought you were saying that Bakugou and I weren’t a good fit!”

“You aren’t. He’s prideful. You’re calm.”

“Those two aren’t opposites!” 

From across the room, Bakugou stopped yelling at Denki and watched YN playfully smack Shinsou’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

“Bro…” Kirishima whispered. “She isn’t gonna make the first move.”

“Shut the fuck up!” He barked, looking as though the whites of his eyes had dominated his entire demeanour. 

“Ha!” Mina tittered. She leaned back with a wide smile. “The mighty Katsuki Bakugou, whipped like a little bitch.”

“I am not a little bitch!” 

In the days leading up to the prom, YN was nervous.

She didn’t think she should’ve, considering she nailed a date with Shinsou (or, rather, he nailed a date with her) so all she had to do was get an outfit ready. 

Unfortunately, her classmates weren’t much help. 

She walked over a bit timidly, peeking past YN’s shoulder. “O-Oh!” She gasped. “It’s very pretty…!” 

“Wear something sexy!” Setsuna cheered, holding up a short purple dress. “You’d look fine as hell in this!”

“No…” Ibara frowned, placing her hands together. “She must wear something modest that respects the Lord.”

“Wait!” Kendo gasped, holding two dresses that had already been rejected. “YN! What do you want to wear?”

“I dunno…” YN murmured, picking up the skirt a white dress that had apple accents on them. “Pony, you might like this one.” 

YN pulled it off the rack and handed it to Pony, pointing to the changing room with a grin. “Go, and we see if you like it!” 

“Mm!” She nodded. There was something unspoken about it, but Yui looked as though she wanted YN’s thoughts. 

She trotted off happily and Yui walked up. She was holding a mid-length black dress.

“Do you like this one, Yui?” YN tilted her head. 

“I think you’d look cute! Here, I’ll help the other girls pick something out, and we can have a mini runway show.”  

“MM!” Yui smiled and skipped away. YN began picking at dresses to give to the others, walking from the rack when something in the clearance aisle caught her eye. 

“Huh?” 

“Yeah!” Kendo pulled off a crisp shirt that vaguely reminded YN of a mobster. “Why?” 

She picked out a suit jacket, noting the orange hints with the pocket and cuff. She tilted her head and hummed.

“Oy!” She turned, looking at Kendo. “Do they have dress shirts over there?” 

YN shrugged, hiding the jacket underneath some of the dresses. She walked over to Kendo and handed off a sporty blue dress, smiling. “Can you put the shirt on top?” 

Kendo obliged, walking into a changing room. More dresses were passed around with the girls until everyone had something. Sassy compliments were thrown around (except for when Ibara dragged Setsuna for wearing something that clung to her). 

YN sighed happily, running a thumb over the orange fabric. It reminded her of Bakugou, and she felt terrible for putting a guy she wasn’t even going with over matching with Shinsou, but…

She blushed, smiling. 

“You look happy,” Komori leaned over YN’s shoulder. “Did you find something you like?” 

“Yeah.” YN held up the suit jacket. “This. I don’t know if they have pants here, but I can make it work.” 

YN paused in the changing room, still holding the shirt, pants, and jacket to her chest. She looked down and bit her lip a bit. She was going with Shinsou, and though she never even asked Bakugou, there was still a part of her that was convinced that she had a chance with Bakugou. 

“Ooh!” Setsuna jumped a bit and ran off, leaving YN and Komori in the dust. Both looked confused until Setsuna ran back with loose black slacks. “Here! Try this!”

“It’s modest.” Ibara murmured. “And you would look good.” Even Pony stepped out and cheered YN on about the suit. Setsuna gently pushed YN into the changing room with a grin.

“Go on, girl! Work it!” 

“Are you okay?” Komori’s voice leaked from the other side of the door. YN jumped a bit. 

“Uh, yeah!” YN changed as fast as she could, tripping over herself in an effort to get into the pants. “Just a second.” 

“Hot damn.” Setsuna whispered, eyeing YN up and down. “You look good.” 

Once she adjusted the pants, she opened the door and stepped out, albeit ungracefully. The girls stopped talking immediately, staring. YN felt an embarrassed flush crawl under her skin.

“Hey, uh, I’ll pick something different out, gimmie a second-” 

“Yeah!” Kendo cheered. “It really suits you!”

“Was that a pun?” YN gave Kendo a look. 

“Get it!” Komori grinned. “Bakugou’ll drop dead!”

There were collective laughs and YN flushed. 

“Ay!” YN rushed forward to mock-wack Setsuna and they took off across the store. Kendo watched them with a laugh as YN easily outran Setsuna, thanks to the pants. 

“But I’m not-!”

“And?” Setsuna shrugged. “You’ll still see him.” 

“Stop running.” Ibara frowned. 

“Get over here!” Kendo took off after YN, and YN watched her go after Setsuna. She paused and panted a bit, grinning. 

This weekend was going to be good. 

At five-thirty on Saturday, YN stood next to Shinsou, standing outside the U.A. hall. There were scattered blue and yellow balloons on the ground from an arch over the door. Lights lit up the path to the door in an attempt to set a mood, but it seemed tackier than anything. There were flower petals, too, and YN wondered if maybe one of the more sentimental teachers was hoping to make it romantic. Other students lingered, too, talking quietly. 

“Should we go in?” YN turned to Shinsou, wearing the white corsage he gave her in her pocket. He, too, wore a suit and had his corsage in the same style, but he was shorter than her and had to look up.

“Sure.” He shrugged. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands but settled for shoving them in his pockets. Part of YN felt guilty for the awkwardness, but accepted it and wrapped her arm over his shoulder. 

“Then let’s go.” They walked down the path and she opened the doors, letting Shinsou go before her. The entire hall was dimly lit, with more blue and yellow balloons than necessary and a DJ at the back of the room, but YN supposed that it was some of the teachers just getting too excited with the idea of prom. 

She saw Kendo wrangling Monoma by the punch bowl and Midoriya Izuku talking with Todoroki Shoto. They both nodded in Shinsou’s direction, and he nodded back, but turned to you. 

“Alright. Where is he?” 

“Huh?” YN stared at Shinsou dumbly. “What are you talking about?” 

“Bakugou.” Shinsou looked both unamused and ready to laugh. “Do you see him?” 

YN flushed and looked around. He was nowhere to be found just from glancing alone, and YN shrugged. 

“I don’t see him. He might not have come.” A part of YN hoped he did, even if it was just to see him in a suit. She continued looking. 

“Hm.” Shinsou huffed. “Fine then. Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.” 

Before YN could ask what he meant, Shinsou disappeared into the crowd around them. YN could’ve sworn she saw a pair of pink arms pulling purple away, but before she could check, she got swept into the tide of newly arriving students. It was like swimming upstream, and she decided to just let herself be carried away. 

Sorry, Shinsou, but I’ve got a plan. 

She ended up shifting towards a more open area, facing out towards the main road and seeing several sappy teenagers make out with one another.

And there, at the edge of the balcony sat Bakugou Katsuki. The man of YN’s hour, if you will. She stared at him timidly, for a moment, before tilting her head.

Bakugou Katsuki swore up and down that he hated parties. 

He went to bed strictly by nine, avoided alcohol if he could help it, and stayed away from questionable crowds. 

So, why the fuck was he tipsy at eleven at night while Caramelldansen blasted over the speakers? 

The answer was that Mina had dragged him to the school’s prom. He didn’t want to go, not after the mess that was him chickening out on asking YN. But the acid-user donned him in a suit with hints of orange and walked he through the doors. But around the time that they started playing Lil Jon’s Get Low, drink after drink was offered to the oh-so-famous winner of the sports festival and that one kid that got kidnapped, right?, and Bakugou accepted one, if only to get the crowd to shut up and leave him alone. But the drink was vaguely sweet, with hints of pink lemonade, and when he was offered another he was less adamant in rejecting them. He didn’t even know who even snuck in the drinks; just that they long left him for better horizons and consenting partners. 

If Bakugou was being honest, then he didn’t like being tipsy. He wasn’t drunk enough to enjoy the feeling or do anything out of his comfort zone, but just inebriated enough that his balance was off, his sight felt a little bit weird, and it felt like everyone was talking about All Might. 

He couldn’t tell if the lights were red or brown anymore, and he’d lost sight of Mina, when he heard someone gossip. 

“I heard that the Bakugou dude...he’s why All Might retired, and he doesn’t even have a good attitude.” 

It probably wasn’t meant for him to hear, or even exactly what he heard, but it felt like it was whispered directly into his ear. Shame flooded through Bakugou, and he felt every set of eyes in the room fall on him. His breath caught in his throat, and the lights blurred, and he waded through the sea of people, hoping to get just a second’s reprieve. He never thought he deserved it, but he still pursued it. Maybe that was how one could explain Bakugou; searching for what he never felt he deserved. 

He stumbled onto a balcony, nearly shoving over two teenagers that were making out before clutching the balcony rail. The world spun, despite just how little alcohol he had, and he felt as though it was all closing in. 

“Water?” 

“Water?” She repeated again. “You look like you need it.” 

Bakugou’s eyes snapped open, and he shot the nastiest glare he could muster at who spoke. It fell almost immediately when he realised who it was.

YN stood there with kind e/c eyes and eyeliner that could cut him. She had a red solo cup in her hand. She held it out to him but kept her distance like he was a feral dog. 

Bakugou said nothing but turned all the way, choosing to remain cautious. Despite the bitter bile in the back of his throat, he hesitated. 

“Why?” He croaked out and hated just how torn his voice sounded. 

“Because you’ve been drinking” She extended the cup to him a bit more with a guarded smile. “And, you look like you need someone to listen.” 

Bakugou’s face flushed angrily and a white-hot rage rushed through him. 

“I don’t need a fucking therapist! Get out of my fucking face with that shit!” He snatched the cup out of her hand and she didn’t so much as flinch. 

“You were crying.” Her smile fell, and if Bakugou wasn’t tipsy and angry, then he would have sworn that concern flashed through her eyes. Bakugou took a quick but hefty gulp of the water, feeling it go down his throat with subdued satisfaction before rearing back to yell at her more. Before he could, though, she raised her hand to his cheek. Her fingers were deathly cold, like what a corpse might feel like, but they were gone before he could complain about it. She held her fingers up to the swirling lights, and every time a strobe hit her hand, Bakugou could see the glistening of something wet on her fingers. Her eyes held something like pity, but it wasn't pity for him. It was just indomitable sadness. 

She turned and began leaving as Bakugou stood there in shock. He didn’t feel himself crying or the typical runny nose, just the cold and sudden terror of loneliness. It carved him out like a pumpkin, and before he realised that he was moving, he had grabbed YN’s wrist. She glanced back in surprise, but it faded into a gentle look that, had it been any other person, would have made them melt.  Bakugou stared between her wrist and her face, glancing up and down and back again in confusion before ripping his hand away. He held it like it had been burned, with a flushed face and blank confusion. 

“Sorry,” He grumbled, letting his hand hang down again. YN didn’t leave but she was still turned. Bakugou could only stare as the lights backlit her, like a bomb, and there was a glint in her eyes that was neither pity nor judgement, but indomitable sadness. There was an oozing silence, until she tilted her head. For just a moment, he felt like he was being dissected by her eyes, scrutinised like roadkill, before the sadness returned. 

“And they fuckin’ say it’s not my fault, but All Might would’ve never had to retire if I had just been strong enough!” 

“Wanna talk?” 

Somehow, be it the little alcohol in his system or the fact that YN just seemed so warm, he had begun spilling all his fears and burdens to her. She never spoke, besides the occasional hum of confirmation, but occasionally rubbed his back when he choked up. She would whip out tissues sometimes, but overall, she listened perfectly. 

“I know that just being told that it isn’t your fault doesn’t help.” The girl murmured, staring through the short pillars of the balcony, taking a deep breath before continuing. “But I think it was a good thing that All Might retired.” 

Bakugou felt his heart leap into his throat with rage, but before he could rip her apart, she side-eyed him and took another sigh. 

“Don’t get me wrong. He did great work. But...he was in pain the entire time. Could you imagine the toll? Physically and mentally? That the world was on your shoulders, and you were slowly dying, but you weren’t able to just...stop.” She sighed for a third time, and for a moment, Bakugou wondered if she knew exactly what All Might felt like, with the stars in her eyes and sorrow on her shoulders. “His retirement would have happened eventually. You spared him months, maybe even years, of pain and torment. He went out, and nobody can ask him to come back, and now he can kick back and let someone else take over. And I think he deserves it. To be able to finally rest.”

Bakugou stared for what felt like the upteenth time that night, before feeling something else tense in his heart. It was like a knot had been wrapped around it, unbreakable and tight. But with only a minute, a girl that he only ever watched from a distance, at a party he never meant to attend, had undone it completely. It snapped, and if he thought about it enough, he could almost feel the cord hitting his ribcage and coming to rest on his kidney. 

YN gave a teasing grin on his subdued, awestruck look, and hummed. She rose with a groan, stretching her arms in front of her with a yawn. 

“There you have it. That’s just my opinion, anyway. You don’t have to take it.” Someone called out, and Bakugou couldn’t quite hear it, but YN turned. She waved, and then looked back at Bakugou. “Take care of yourself. Don’t let them get to you.” 

She turned to leave, and she felt like this incomprehensible force that made everyone else move like the tide, or the Red Sea. Softer, kinder music leaked through from the dance floor, and he shot up. 

“W-Wait!” 

It was a demand and a question all wrapped in one and YN snorted, nodding. 

YN stopped and turned with a tilt of her head. “Yeah?”

“Fucking-!” He was choking on his words, trying to literally grasp them from the air. “Fuckng dance with me!” 

“Sure.” 

She walked back to them and some of the other students left the balcony, abandoning them. Bakugou’s hands felt sweaty and he wiped them on his pants, heart pounding in his ears. 

“D-D’ya know how to waltz?!” He barked, eyes flickering from nervousness. 

“Yeah.” YN nodded. “I can lead.” 

And she did, spinning Bakugou around under the stars in a moment that felt untouchable. Bakugou looked at her, and she looked at him, and at once, he felt at ease. Everything melted off of him for five minutes and fifty-two seconds, with her hands on his hip and holding him just tight enough that he knew she was real. The stars glittered in her eyes, and the breeze was warm and cool and perfect. 

“I love you,” He whispered with wide eyes. She didn’t so much as flinch, pulling down into an Eskimo kiss. 

“I love you, too.”