#give me that happily ever after bullshit

[valiantvillain]

You can't convince me Gale wasn't totally advertising himself as marriage material throughout the entirety of his romance. He's got a tower. It's got a great kitchen and a wine cellar. He can cook. He'll formally introduce you to Tara over a nice dinner. His mother will love you. And after so many years of the bar being in the pits of hell for irl men I fell for that shit hook, line, and sinker. Feel his shirt that smells like a library. It's husband material.

[beeseverywhen]

god the duality between 'I don't want someone in my house' and 'yeah I'd like my own kids and no way I'm doing that alone'

[bitbrumal]

well, now that kaeya has acquired a semi-eternal bf... the ‘lived forever but in agony & constantly losing bits of himself’ trope has a reason to exist :3c                i don’t suppose zhongzhong could purify his curse,,,      he’ll just have to watch kaeya lose himself. suppose that’s only fair- given the erosion.

also. kaeya: huh. i’m not even jealous about zhongli! smn: meows at zhongli kaeya: kaeya: death. endless. assassination. u looked at the wrong man u cannot Smell him u cannot perceive i will rip a- zhongli: kaeya: haha! hi :))) kisses his cheek. anyway imma go grab some [ insert snack ] from the market so we can chill later. bye~~~~!

[simplyavatrice]

Absolutely devastated that Warrior Nun was cancelled, but let me tell you, I have zero intention of letting these characters go. I’ve got a story to finish, more stories to read. Gifs to make and amazing arts to reblog. .

These characters belong to us now. This ship and the rest of their story is ours and I fully intend to give them as many happily ever afters as I can.

It sucks, it’s bullshit, and I genuinely have no idea what these streaming services are looking for anymore, but they can’t take away what we got and how much we loved it. They can’t take away our passion for these characters and especially not Ava and Bea.

I like it here way too much to leave.

[aww-canon-no]

Steddie (Deaf Steve) Pt 2

You asked, so I’m here to give you more.  This time from Eddie’s POV.

First kiss, sequel to Shoot Your Shot.

*** 

Soon Enough

Rated: T

Steve/Eddie

Modern AU, first kisses, Deaf Steve, ASL

(Content warnings: mentions of childhood neglect/abuse)

Eddie has never, ever once believed in conformity.  And he’s not about to start now.

(Eddie’s ASL fuck-up is translated in notes at bottom of this fic)

*** 

Eddie Munson’s life has always been…difficult, to say the least.  Born under a bad sign, Wayne liked to call it, but in a kind of affectionate way.  The way where he’s holding small Eddie who can’t stop crying and wondering why all the other kids in his class have really nice parents who buy them things and, you know, feed them.

Wayne stepped in when he could.  He never failed to show up with food and threats against his brother when he heard Eddie’s tiny, broken voice on the other end of the phone because his dad was too drunk or too high to feed him.  Eventually they struck a deal.  Eddie’s parents disappeared after signing some scary looking paperwork, and Eddie got to pack all his things and move to Wayne’s trailer which was small compared to where his classmates all lived, but nice.

So nice.

Like washing machine and running water nice.

He won’t have to be the smelly kid in class anymore.

He just didn’t realize how reputations clung in small towns.

So suffice it to say that Eddie abhors difficult things—including difficult people.  It’s why, when his little lambs started going on and on and fucking ON about their cool, badass older friend Steve who used to date Nancy, Eddie was determined to never meet him.

It wasn’t just the jealousy.

It was that Steve communicated on a whole other level.  Literally.  He was Deaf.  He went to the Deaf school that wasn’t anywhere near Hawkins and he knew no one, but somehow Steve and his perfect fucking hair was still popular amongst people who weren’t freaked out by the whole, he can’t hear shit, thing.

Yeah, it definitely wasn’t jealousy.

It was the fact that Steve was complicated and he used a whole separate language and Eddie just…had no plans to involve himself in that.

Never mind the kids were over the goddamn moon about being able to know ASL.  They communicated with it during campaigns whenever they didn’t want Eddie to know their plans, and—although Eddie actually did look up stuff online about Deaf people (all that stuff about capital D and lowercase d and the community and culture was all very overwhelming) he was pretty sure his little lambs were technically not allowed to make up sign names for all the creatures in their guides.

But they did it anyway and who was Eddie to stop them.

He ended up picking up a few things by osmosis, whether he liked it or not.

But he was determined, damn it.  He existed over here, Steve existed over there, and they all lived happily ever after.

Until the afternoon he walked into Scoops Ahoy.

***

Eddie had actually gone in to bother Robin.  They were sort of outcast friends.  Two freaky little gays at Hawkins High, though she was younger than him and had absolutely no interest in DnD, but they had a shared trauma bond of bullies and bullshit.

He came to a stop when he saw the absurdly good looking guy at the counter who was staring at him in ways no one had ever stared at Eddie.  The way that said he had no idea who Eddie was and it was always great to have a fresh start like that.

Then Eddie fucked up by not reading his badge and realizing exactly who was there.

And like Dustin had once predicted, the second he met Steve’s eyes, he was a gonner.  There was no resisting him.

He was smitten and the hole was too deep for him to claw his way out of.

He went home and looked up a bunch of videos that seemed suspect as fuck, so in the end he called Dustin who showed up at Eddie’s trailer with an arsenal of websites.

“Can’t you just get me, like, a book or something?”  Eddie had asked, feeling intimated and overwhelmed and already kind of tired.

Dustin had given him the bitchiest bitch face that ever bitched.  “You can’t learn ASL from a book, numbnuts.”  Then his hands twisted into the complicated shapes—all fast the way Dustin kept bragging about—and Eddie assumed he was repeating most of what he’d just said.

Eddie damn-well knew that if he actually wanted Steve to say yes to him, he was absolutely going to have to learn because while the kids said Steve could speak, he hated doing it.  And Eddie was the kind of guy who had been rebelling against forced conformity his entire life.

So yeah, he’d rather die than put that choice to Steve.

He learned enough to feel confident going back to the mall.  And Robin was once again playing the long game with Vickie who would literally drag Robin into the cleaning closet and rock her world if Robin only asked—but he knew she wouldn’t.  But it left the perfect opening for Eddie who walked up to the counter, panicked, and immediately forgot everything he’d learned about ASL in the time he’d been away from Steve’s ice cream counter.

In the end, he remembered a little, then tried to backtrack and tell Steve he’d ask him out when he was a little more fluent.

Which made Steve laugh, and Eddie wouldn’t find out until much later that it took at least seven years of immersion to become fluent so…

Yeah it was kind of hilarious.

For Steve.

Mortifying for Eddie.

The blow was softened when Steve touched him—like actually touched him without reservation or hesitation.  And then he told Eddie he didn’t want him to wait.  Eddie was fine as he was—that patience with his language could be a thing and Jesus H Christ Eddie was pretty sure he could die right then.

Except if he died he wouldn’t get the chance to touch Steve back, and kiss him, and make him laugh, and make him make other noises and Jesus H Christ he wanted that so bad he could taste it.  Because he’d been avoiding Steve for what felt like half his new adult life but he was head over heels smitten in two visits to the ice cream shop.

And he didn’t even like ice cream.

He was lactose intolerant for fuck’s sake.

Anyway, he got Steve’s number and he didn’t wait to text.

But the date did.

They planned for the movies and then…

Wayne got hurt at the plant.  He ended up being fine, but it scared the absolute fuck out of Eddie who staying at the hospital until his back hurt from the small chair, and his phone was dead, and he felt like passing out.

The nurses had to kick him out, and Eddie walked out of the room in a fog, and stumbled into the downstairs lobby where he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a familiar, gorgeous head of hair.  Steve was facing away from him with big headphones on, bobbing his head to…music?

Eddie totally didn’t get it, but he couldn’t help himself from walking over and laying a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  He felt like shit when Steve jumped half a foot off the chair, but then his face broke out into a soft, sympathetic smile.

‘Hi.’  It was a simple enough sign that Eddie didn’t have to try for that one.  ‘You OK?’  He signed slow, mouthing the words.

Eddie swallowed heavily, then shrugged.  His fingers felt a little stiff and he wasn’t sure he had the emotional capacity to take embarrassing himself by getting signs wrong no matter how frantically he’d been practicing since the day at the mall.

Steve’s face fell a little more, and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone look so…so soft at him before.  He walked around the benches toward Eddie, then yanked him into a hug.  It was so unexpected that Eddie just…melted.  His head pressed against Steve’s headphones which were blaring with music, and Eddie had about a thousand questions but instead he just lost himself in the way that Steve hugged.

It was…a lot.  

Of course, it was mostly that Eddie just never, ever got hugged and all the touching he did was imitated by himself and almost never returned, but that was a different trauma for a different day.

For now he just let himself have this.  Have Steve.  Have the body pressed to his and voiceless permission to kind of shake apart after holding it together for hours, and hours, and hours.

When he pulled back, Steve gave him a cautious smile and Eddie reached up, tapping Steve’s headphones.

‘Hurt?’ Eddie asked. ‘Loud?’

Steve frowned, then rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, turning off his music before pulling them back and draping them around his neck.  He shook his head and shrugged.  ‘Can’t…hear?’  Eddie was pretty sure that was the sign for hear.  Not hearing, which was a little finger twirl under the bottom lip.  ‘Not hurt  Feel it.’

Eddie nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets before remembering—oh shit, I need those to like, talk to Steve, and pulled them out again.

Steve laughed—but he was maybe one of the only people in the world who didn’t seem like he was laughing at Eddie, and wow what a goddamn novelty that was.

Steve tapped his arm and Eddie looked up at him as Steve curled his hand into a C-shape and dragged it down his throat.  ‘Hungry-you?’

He was starved.  He mimicked the sign and remembered the lesson he learned online where he had to exaggerate the sign if he wanted to emphasize what he was saying.  So he ran his C-hand over his throat a few times, then added, ‘Eat, before, work.’  He met his left wrist with his right wrist once with heavy force. He knew that wasn’t right but maybe it was close enough?

Except Steve was suddenly all red in the face and making a choking sound.  Eddie took a step back, but Steve reached out and snagged his arm before he could get too far, shaking his head.

Eddie was pretty sure he was supposed to be mortified but right then he was mostly curious and uh…yeah.  Steve was touching him again so that was good.

Steve touched the underside of Eddie’s chin and he made an embarrassing noise which Steve must have felt because his grin twitched a little wider.  Then he shook his head.

‘H U N G R Y,’ he spelled very slowly.  He repeated his sign, then added, ‘S T A R V I N G?’  He made a little question mark motion with his finger.  It was weirdly cute, and Eddie didn’t describe things as cute very often.

He nodded. Yeah.  He’d been trying to say starving.

Steve made a noisy sort of huffing sound with some rumble behind it, then squared his shoulders and nodded before raising his right hand.  His left signed, ‘Watch.’

Eddie nodded.

Steve made an exaggerated face and dragged his C-hand down his throat with more force.  ‘Ok?’

Eddie nodded.  Okay, yeah.  He could do that.

Steve wasn’t done.  ‘W O R K?’

Eddie smiled and nodded his fist.  ‘Yes.’

Steve tapped the inside of his right wrist against the back of his left wrist.  ‘Work,’ he signed.

Eddie repeated the sign, and Steve nodded, giving him an enthusiastic thumb’s up.

‘Now- go-you-me.’ Steve signed—Eddie was...pretty sure? God he needed to practice more.

But he answered Steve with a happy, ‘OK,’ and didn’t mind at all when Steve took his hand.

Until suddenly he did mind because…

He dragged Steve to a halt and cleared his throat, pulling out his phone with his free hand and typing as fast as he could, ‘What did I say? Before?  What did I fuck up?’

Steve’s eyes got wide and he waved him off, but Eddie tugged on him until Steve let out a small groan, snatched the phone, and began to type.  Eddie had not one single qualm about reading over his shoulder, and in about five seconds, he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“I signed what?” he demanded aloud, forgetting himself entirely.

Steve looked over his shoulder, his face kind of…different.  Confused?  Full of pity at how fucking pathetic Eddie was?  Embarrassed to know him?

Was he…

Eddie’s thoughts came to a sudden, screeching halt when Steve cradled his face between his hands.  He leaned forward until his lips were practically brushing Eddie’s ear and he whispered aloud, “I’d be happy to fix that problem too.”

Eddie was already pretty sure spontaneous combustion was a thing, and now he was about to be living proof because oh my GOD.  Oh my... god oh my god oh my…

Steve dragged a thumb over Eddie’s lower lip, then raised his brows like he was asking, ‘Is this okay?’

Eddie nodded frantically and Steve began walking him backward until his back suddenly hit…oh.  It was a tree.  The bark was sharp against his bare elbow, but all of that ceased to matter the second Steve’s lips touched his.  It wasn’t a wild, desperate kiss of star-crossed lovers in the books Eddie secretly read.

No, it was soft.  It was gentle.

It was warm and it was fucking needy as hell but it was also the first kiss in a line of what Eddie was determined to have as many, many, many as he could.  As many as Steve would allow.

For the rest of their lives, God help them both.

Steve gently licked into Eddie’s mouth before finally pulling away, and the stress of Wayne being hurt and then him thoroughly embarrassing himself, he wasn’t hard or anything, but there was definitely a sort of humming desire under his skin which were as warm as his hands were because they...

Oh.

He looked down and realized that he’d rucked up Steve’s shirt and was digging his fingers into Steve’s bare hips.  ‘Sorry,’ he signed, dislodging one hand.

Steve laughed—a quiet huff mostly through his nose, and he shook his head before stealing a last kiss.  Eddie wanted to chase it, but he forced himself to keep his back to the tree as Steve dug into his pocket for his phone again.

‘For now,” he wiggled his phone.  ‘Until we can spend more time together and I can teach you more,’ Steve typed out.

Eddie swallowed heavily, then nodded.  ‘Why are you here?’

Steve frowned like he was confused why Eddie would even ask that. ‘Dustin said your uncle was hurt.  I didn’t want you to be alone when they kicked you out.’

Those words, that simple fucking act of kindness, was almost too much.  The emotions overwhelmed him and he wanted to laugh, and cry, and scream, and fucking sing until his throat seized up and he lost his voice.

He stared at the phone screen until Steve dragged a tender touch across the top of his hand, and he looked up.

‘Come home with me tonight.  Sleep,’ Steve typed before shoving his phone back into his pocket without waiting for Eddie’s answer.  He knew he should probably say no because they hadn’t even had their date yet, but then again, Eddie had never been conventional.

Never would be conventional.

He rubbed a flat palm over his chest.  ‘Please.’

Steve’s eyes darkened, just for a second.  Eddie panicked before he realized that no, he’d gotten the sign just right.  Steve was just maybe thinking of other ways Eddie might use that sign and…yeah.

Shit yeah.

Maybe not now.  Not tonight.  Not even very soon.

But soon enough.

Steve linked their fingers together and tugged…

And Eddie followed.

*** 

(Eddie’s ASL fuck-up.  Common mistake in ASL- Hungry=Horny.  Work=Fuck.  Steve is kind of okay with that idea too lol)

[transzilla]

I believe in not only corrupting eggs to transition to men but to light fires under the asses of men who transition but stop taking it seriously for whatever reason. With enough repeated failure and desires left unsatisfied, even these big shot, loud and angry, rowdy tboys start to have that soft boy fetishized weakness rigomoroll shit catch up with them. They start to familiarize and hide behind their own percieved inferiority, these hot young soldiers with all this potential losing steam and left to reminisce while they're still half-baked, a bunch of poor bastards. Steam powered, roided inertia slows to a vapid convention and stops at a stale, repetitive restriction of depleted self esteem. The raw abrasion of transition wears off and the bullshit we deal with as men wears on us, makes us minimize ourselves, keeps us bound to the same old same old, always for the best.

Doesn't have to be the case. In an age of mediocrity and the demonization of queer masculinity, be that man. If you feel unhappy and discontent and you don't know how, take your transition a little more seriously. You don't just do it once, you come out and take the steroids, heehee hoohoo i'm pinocchio and the blue fairy made me a real boy and you're done forever happily ever after. Masculinity is about constantly challenging yourself, and if you're being challenged as a man constantly it can be a sign of a good thing. You will grow in the face of, in spite of, and because of adversity. Shoot things. Hit things. Fucking stand up for yourself and stop letting people walk all over you. Step outside of your comfort zone. Make yourself dangerous. Make others dangerous. Walk the streets with no fear knowing if somebody gives you shit you've broken yourself in so many times you're equipped to deal with it. Don't slow down and remember who the fuck you are.

[alwaysshallow]

prompt: You’re a retired S-tier supervillain. After you retired, you married a B-tier hero. You are forced back onto the stage when an A-tier villain attempts to kill your spouse. Ghost x reader

A/N: i don't know if i hate this or i like, so. it's yours to decide lmfao. especially that's a tiiiiny part that i decided to wrote bc i was bored.

Everyone wants to live happily ever after.

Not exactly a quiet life, but not too loud either. A perfect balance, where you have all the things (or almost all of them) to be happy, fulfilled in life.

Life that wanted your mother for you, before it all went down. Before you turned evil, as she liked to say.

You try to tell yourself that you deserve every inch of it, but you still miss the thrill of the hunt, blood on your hands, the way you just ruled the city like you wanted. Unbothered.

When your husband doesn’t look, you take out your mask, hidden carefully behind all those unopened cartons from your wedding. He thinks you burned all of your past, and here you are. Hiding it like a precious possession, so carefully.

It took you long enough to earn it—you don’t think you quite deserve it, but it’s nice to be a wife that can greet her husband every time he comes home from work. Every time he mentions something about you joining him, but it could be quite a laugh, you say.

A retired villain turned superhero. You’d rather die than make it happen, but that’s what your husband doesn’t know.

Well, he doesn’t know a lot of things.

For example, he doesn’t know how conflicted you are. Unconsciously, you think that you sabotage all of those happy moments. Overthinking stuff, asking yourself if you’re really in a good place, if you made a right decision; if a man is worth giving up your career.

Your whole life, if you want to be petty enough. Your whole life changed because of him—hell, you even changed in some way. Less snarkier, more laid back, so you wouldn’t be degraded to trophy wife, burned out villain in front of his friends and family.

Make them proud, he said once, before a meeting with his friends. Meeting that turned to complete disaster, heading home way earlier than you were supposed to because superhero bullshit bored and annoyed you enough.

But you tried to put up with it. Convince yourself that it is your fate, not the villain route that you chose before.

Fate hits you right in the face, when you enter your apartment to see three significant changes.

Your husband is tied like a pig on the table. Tight.

The apartment looks like a tornado went through it.

And three—

“Took you long enough.”

Yeah. That’s three.

You almost want to laugh. A bandit-like balaclava could scare a lot of people, but not you—not when you know him inside out. Not when you basically competed with him your whole life before.

Yeah. Before. Before you met your husband, before you two got married, before you decided to retire. The taste of this decision is bitter on your tongue, just like the thought that you feel excited for the first time in months because there’s potential danger. Something breaking you out of the routine.

“Normal people do groceries around this hour.” You shrug casually, taking a few steps; the intention of untying your husband falters the moment Ghost blocks your way, amused. You raise your eyebrow. “Come on—”

“—What? Scared?”

“No. But he has probably nothing to do with your business,” you point out, harshly. He lets out a scoff.

“Said that he’s gonna call cops on me. Very unfriendly behavior from a superhero, won’t you agree?” He tilts his head with a theatrical manner.

“I’d do the same,” you murmur under your nose, taking out the material that Ghost gagged your husband with. Carefully, your hand lands on the ropes, until Simon stops you.

“We have better things to do,” he says, his voice low. “Gotta step out from that wife role for a moment, ‘m takin’ you. He’s gonna do fine.”

“You’re taking me?”

“I am, yeah. A problem?” He arches an eyebrow, his grip tight on your wrist. Attacking him is useless, especially when he knows how you want to do it; he’s quick to pin you down against the counter. His front is hot against your ass—he laughs, as he’s almost able to feel your humiliation. “Won’t do anythin’ right in front of your husband, don’t worry. Or, will I?” he looks down at you, expression mocking.

“I hate—”

“Mm. Yeah, won’t do me good.”

And then, you’re out.

[svt-rosalie]

. . . ♡ ROSALIE ! ? 🏴‍☠️ SCENARIO ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ ATEEZ PRESENT, 2019 ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

© 2023 , svt-rosalie rosalie masterlist!

warnings. rosalie being a fan girl, bts being rosie’s other group of older brothers, ateez is awkward babies, wooyoungie has a little crushhhhhhhh, horrible writing, spelling mistakes, bad jokes,

authors note. please bear with me…i have not written an actual scenario chapter in a WHILE, so this a practice for me sorry to do with ateez but it’s okay hopefully you guys like it

The stadium felt so small yet so big at the same time. The amount of people was the cause of this, Rosalie thought, it seemed as if the space the fans took up was the whole stadium and their screams were deafening.

The air felt thick as she and her band members made their to their assigned seats, chalking it up to the amount of people residing in the stadium and not the nerves racing through out her body like a cheetah through the jungle.

The group was heading inside after their interview that took place outside, glad to be out of the cold. The dress that Rosalie was styled in was a strapless red velvet textured skin tight gown with a slit down her right leg with a (uncomfortably big) bow on the back, though it was a gorgeous dress, it was not meant to be worn during December. She needs to remind herself to speak to her stylist about investing in some long sleeves.

Rosalie felt a sense of accomplishment for herself and her older brothers, they had a tough year and even though their leader could not be there with them, they were going to perform for him and for carats despite everything. Rosie was knocked out of her trance when she felt a tap on her shoulder indicating someone needed/wanted her attention.

“Ahh, Yoongi oppa!” She smiled brightly giving him a big hug, Yoongi patted her head in response with a laugh. Rosie knows he doesn’t like skin ship all that much but ignores his protest everytime and hugs him with all her might.

Yoongi lightly pulls away looking Rosie looks at him continuing to smile as happily as she can. “Quit the bullshit, why are you so nervous? I can tell something’s up?” Rosie shakes her head with a pout “No, nothing is wrong.”

That was the biggest lie if Yoongi ever did see one.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” He sighed and Rosie did as well. She looked around wondering if any of her group mates were listening in, doubting they could with how loud it was, she could barely hear Yoongi speak.

“There is just a lot going on at the moment and it’s hard not having Scoups oppa here with us.” She admitted.

Yoongi nodded in understanding.

“If you ever need me, you call me. I’ll always listen.” He said, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand. Rosalie nodded with a smile before being interrupted by a loud voice.

“If you ever need us! Let’s clarify that.” Seokjin stated wrapping his arms around Rosie’s shoulders, Taehyung and Jungkook not too far behind him. Letting out a bright giggle that seemed to light up the room, she pulled the three other older boys into hugs.

“I’m so excited to see you guys perform!” She says excited.

“Well hopefully we do you proud, it’s gonna be a good one. We’re performing your favorite so don’t cry please!” Jungkook says. “You’re performing Mikrokosmos?” She squealed.

They all nodded laughing at her antics. “I’m gonna go find the seats we’re gonna be sitting in but i’ll call you guys if I don’t see you at the end! Okay?” Rosalie asked. “Sounds good to us, be safe and if we didn’t say it tonight you look gorgeous!” Taehyung said. Rosie pouts and puts her hands over heart nodding in thanks.

The boys in Bangtan always knew how to make her feel special. Yes, she has 12 older brothers and one situationship that has not been figured out yet that she can go to for advice and comfort, but having an outside perspective on situations that she doesn’t want to speak about with her members was always helpful! The seven boys always seem to know when she needs said comfort after all these years.

As Rosalie walked with her head slightly down to watch her feet to make sure she didn’t step on her dress, she didn’t notice the boy walking with their back towards her who was talking to his own group members.

“Mingi watch out!” A voice shouted and tried to grab at him before he ran into the 5’10 female but it was no use the two went down in a what looked like a bowling pin getting knocked down by a bowling ball.

Rosalie groaned in pain, “Yep, there goes the hip.” she says sarcastically.

“We are so sorry sunbaenim! We didn’t see you there and by the time we did Mingi accidentally hit you. We are so sorry again!” The voice of Yunho surfaced as they all bowed whilst the boy, Mingi, who knocked her down helped her get back up to her feet.

Rosalie waved her hands, “No, no it’s okay! I wasn’t watching where I was going either, I’m so scared to slip in this dress that I wasn’t watching straight ahead for other people.” She reassured the Ateez boys as much as she could.

“Am I going to have 13 people jumping me, because I just got off hiatus and do not want to go leave again.” Mingi mumbled to himself, but somehow Rosalie still heard and laughed loudly surprising all the boys.

It was a bit reassuring to them that she laughed and smiled, but that didn’t tell them if it was ‘oh your so funny laugh it’s okay they won’t hurt you’ laugh/smile or a ‘yes my 13 other members who could probably bench press you will hurt you for knocking their precious only female member maknae over’ laugh/smile.

“No don’t worry Mingi, it’s okay. I’ve gotten worse from my own members. Mingyu oppa acts like we’re in WWE and body slams me into pools, so I think I can handle a little tumble.”

All the boys nodded, glad that one of their favorite idols was okay.

“Well we’re very excited to see your performance Sunbaenim!” San said smiling brightly.

Rosalie couldn’t help but smile back, “Thank you! I’m so excited to see yours! I know the entire dance to Wonderland so I will definitely be showing my support for you guys tonight.”

It’s like Ateez just kept getting surprised by their sunbaenim more and more as they talked. First she jokes around with them like their long time friends, then she says she knows their recent comeback Wonderland, and she knows Mingi’s name.

Wait. . . she knows Mingi’s name!

“Oh, Rosalie sunbaenim do you know us?” Hongjoong asked.

“Of course I do! I’ve been an Atiny since your guys debut, I love your music and sound. I’ve been wanting to become friends with you guys for a while but my schedule and company haven’t allowed me the time.” She said subconsciously pouting.

Wooyoung couldn’t help but think “Wow, she’s pretty” in her stunning makeup that brought her best features and the dress that matches her curves so well. He was heaven in her presence.

“Oh thank you! You all are handsome too!” She said smiling proudly.

“I said that out loud.” Wooyoung said, eyes wide and mouth gaped open. His members laughed and clapped him on the back.

“Wooyoung hyung has had a crush on you since your debut—” Jongho says, or at least tries to before his mouth was covered by said person.

Rosalie’s eyes widen in shock, a red blush covered her face. Thank god her makeup artist decided to apply the foundation a little heavier tonight.

Wooyoung dragged Jongho away before the maknae could say anything more embarrassing saying his bye’s for himself and the younger boy.

The others that stayed laughed. “Well, we should probably follow them before Wooyoung takes out our main vocalist, but we’ll be cheering you on Rosalie sunbaenim.” Seonghwa says.

Rosalie nodded in understanding, adjusting her dress a little. “I’ll be cheering you guys on too! I’ll speak to my manager about getting in contact with yours so we can go to dinner sometime! I would like to become friends with you all if that’s alright!”

“Of course!” Mingi says a little too quick.

Rosalie couldn’t help but laugh again, “I’ll see you all shortly, it was nice to bump into you.” she says waving and bowing before turning around and walking towards her group knowing damn well most of them were watching the interaction and would definitely get questioned later.

Yeosang looked between all his members before asking “Did that really just happen? Rosalie sunbaenim wants to have dinner with us?”

San nodded in a daze “She was so pretty too! I hope we can become great friends with her.” They all nodded in agreement to his statement before walking off to find Wooyoung before he killed Jongho.

Oh, just you wait boys — that statement will become more true than you know!

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[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 4)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: After battling the symptoms of touch deprivation for weeks, Y/N sees Harry again in Chicago and he helps her deal with the worst of it.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

Word Count: 4.9k

Y/N POV

“You haven’t had a nightmare in 4 days?” Rachel asks.

“Nope!” You reply happily, taking a sip of your iced caramel latte. You and Rachel both have a free afternoon and decided to meet at a local cafe. You feel so much better than you had for the last few weeks that you felt confident to order a different drink. No tea that reminds you of Sarah, no hot chocolate that makes you think of Harry.

“And you’re not using those coping mechanisms you mentioned?”

“Haven’t needed them in days.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what they were?” You blush at this question, embarrassed by the truth.

“No, that secret may come with me to the grave,” you joke.

Rachel looks at you, slightly worried and says, “It was safe right? You weren’t like, drugging yourself to sleep were you?”

“Oh God no!” You reply with a laugh. “Nothing like that, I swear.” Though you think to yourself that Harry’s scent in its direct form would probably be so delicious that it would act like a drug to you.

“Okay, I trust you,” Rachel says. “So, have you heard from Harry?”

You sigh, slightly disappointed by the answer you have to give. “Not since the night of the concert. I’m sure he’s been busy.”

“Maybe you should text him first.”

“And maybe you are out of your mind. No way. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm the girl or he’s the alpha or any of that sexist bullshit. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s Harry Styles.” You whisper the last part, aware that you’re in public and anyone around could hear the conversation.

“So what if he’s Harry Styles?”

“What would I even text him?”

“You could start with ‘Hi, how are you?’”

“Very funny. I mean, I guess I could. Maybe. I’ll give it a couple more days.”

“Waiting for him to leave the area?”

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Speaking of procrastinating things,” Rachel says teasingly, “have you called your doctor yet? To find out why that alpha knew you’re an omega even though you’re on suppressants and scent blockers?”

“Okay, that I did not procrastinate on. I called her but I can’t get an appointment until November.”

“Seriously?”

“Yea. I mean there aren’t a lot of doctors who specialize in omegas, so they’re always booked. Anyway, she said that my body has probably just developed a resistance to the pills. She’ll try to change my regimen after the appointment and told me to use the spray on neutralizers until then.”

“That sucks.”

“It does. I am so not looking forward to changing meds. It takes awhile to find the right combo and then there’ll be all new side effects. But it’ll be worth it.”

“I wish omegas didn’t have to hide who they are.”

“Me too. But that’s just how it is now.”

From there the conversation turns to lighter topics until you part ways to continue your day.

Another week passes and you still haven’t heard from Harry. On top of that the bad dreams come back, along with the restlessness, and chills. You’ve started using the old coping mechanisms again, which barely work this time around.

The morning after his final show in New York City, your social media is flooded with videos of him receiving his banner at Madison Square Garden. If there was any time to reach out to him, now was it. He said he wanted to be friends, right? A friend would absolutely congratulate him on this achievement.

It still takes you forever to type out the message, and ever longer to find the courage to press send. It’s nearly noon by the time you text Harry, “Congrats on the banner!”

It’s a simple sentence, just four words, and you still find a way to overthink everything for the two hours it takes Harry to reply. You’re taking a walk, grateful once again that you work on your own schedule and can take a break when you need one. And right now, you need one. Because you texted a celebrity and he still hasn’t answered and you for sure made a complete fool of yourself.

You stop dead in your tracks when your phone buzzes and Harry’s name appears on your screen.

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Can’t believe I got such an honor. How are you? What are you up to?

There’s a bench nearby and you sit to reread his message five times before replying.

To Harry Styles: You deserve it! I’m good, just out for a walk. How about you?

The next message comes in much faster.

From Harry Styles: I’ve been doing well. Took it easy this morning, currently enroute to Texas for the next shows.

You can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s no longer just a city away. You know it’s silly, but it was nice that he was so close by.

To Harry Styles: Enjoy Texas!

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Have you ever been?

To Harry Styles: Once, in college. Went to San Antonio with some friends.

From Harry Styles: That’s a great city, love the river walk there!

And so, you and Harry Styes became friends who text each other about random things. You talk throughout his flight to Texas, and sporadically over the next couple of weeks. It never gets very deep, all surface level conversations, but it’s nice. You feel like you’re getting to know the real him, and he’s getting to know who you are as well.

The texts from Harry are the high points. The low points are, unfortunately, very low. The hot chocolate, and roses, and forest smelling candles are no longer helping you. Bad dreams happen almost every night, you’re constantly cold, and there’s an itch under your skin that just won’t go away. The voice in the back of your brain is telling you it’s touch deprivation, but you refuse to admit that to yourself. You’ve never needed an alpha, and you refuse to depend on one now. So no, you do NOT have touch deprivation.

You’re checking your email, and you see that there are still spots open for a job training opportunity in Chicago. You rarely go to these, but it’s been a while, and you think maybe it would be good to go. There are always new types of data software, and you found the last two training courses you attended to be pretty informative.

Looking at the dates you notice the course is the following Thursday and Friday. In Chicago. You also notice that Harry will be doing shows there at the same time. You don’t admit that’s what seals the deal for you, but it totally is.

After registering and setting up your flight and hotel reservation you send a text to Harry. You casually mention that you’ll be in Chicago the following weekend. You’re surprised when your phone starts to ring, and Harry’s name is on the screen.

You answer the phone and he’s first to speak, saying, “You’re gonna be in Chicago?”

“I am!” you reply, matching his excitement.

“Can you come to my shows?”

“Which days are they again?” You ask this to try and seem like less of a stalker.

“I’ve got one Thursday, Friday and Saturday. You’re welcome to come to as many of those as you want,” he answers.

“I think Thursday is an all-day thing, so I won’t be able to come to that one. The training ends with dinner on Friday evening so I think I could make it just in time for the concert.”

“Ok great, and Saturday?”

“I am free all-day Saturday. My flight back home is Sunday afternoon.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have tickets for you for those two shows. That is, if you want to come of course.”

“Harry, I absolutely want to come.”

“Then the tickets are yours. All the details will come from Jada. I’d be a mess without that girl.”

“You paying her well?” you ask jokingly.

“She’s compensated handsomely, I promise,” he replies with a laugh.

“Happy to hear it.”

“I uhm- it sounds like you won’t be able to come before the show Friday, correct?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’ll probably get there right before you go on.”

“Forgive me if this sounds forward, but would you want to hang out after? It would have to be at the hotel, I can’t really be out in the city after a concert.”

“Totally understand that. And yea, I’d love to hang out after.”

“Great! I’m staying at the Nobu Hotel.”

You quickly look it up and see that your hotel is close by.

“No way!” you reply. “I’m at the Crowne Plaza like, two blocks away.”

“Well, that’s convenient. I’ll make sure there’s a car to take you to Nobu after the show Friday if that works for you?”

“Yea that would be great. I’d love to hang out!” You cringe, hoping that didn’t come off too strong.

“I’d love to hang out as well. Listen I have to go to sound check for tonight’s show. I’ll text you soon. And look out for the email from Jada, it’ll have all the info you need.”

***

Harry POV

“You’re extra happy today,” Elin says as Harry bounces around the venue smiling so big that both dimples are showing.

“I am!” He replies. “Thanks for noticing!”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sarah asks. “Because it’s definitely not how this sound check is going.” She has a point there. No less than a dozen things have gone wrong since they started, leading them to take a break while the sound techs work out a few problems.

“Just talked to a friend who will be in town next week.”

“Oh I see,” Mitch says. “So Y/N will be here?”

“Yes, and she’ll be coming to the shows Friday and Saturday. I can’t wait to see her!”

“Aw, someone’s got a crush,” Pauli says.

Harry ignores the teasing from his band members and says, “Honestly I’ve been a bit worried about her. I’ve just had this feeling that keeps getting worse.”

“Why do you think it has to do with Y/N?” NyOh asks.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But we’ve talked on the phone a couple times, and she always sounds exhausted.”

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Sarah says reassuringly.

“I know, I just can’t help it.”

“I completely get that,” Sarah replies softly, looking towards her mate.

“Fixed it!” One of the sound techs calls out, effectively cutting off the conversation as Harry and the band get back to work.

***

Y/N POV

The next week passes in what feels like slow motion. Every hour drags on. Your apartment building hasn’t switched from air conditioning to heat yet, so you’re constantly wearing layers of warm clothes and burrowing under blankets. The itch under your skin only gets worse, spreading to new areas each day until there’s a maddening tingle throughout your whole body.

Amelia drops you off at the airport Wednesday afternoon. You know she can tell that something is wrong, but you don’t offer an explanation, so she doesn’t pry for details.

You put on your mask before walking into the terminal. It’s a habit leftover from the pandemic, and also a great way to block out the potential strange scents. Alphas and omegas might be rare, but there’s always a chance a few will be around in such a crowded place. You’re extra sensitive to smells at the moment due to the touch deprivation that you’ve finally admitted you have. But it’s mild. Totally manageable. Not a problem.

The plane ride and subsequent train trip and walk to the hotel is exhausting. You stop and grab some food on the way. After checking in you immediately eat your quick meal, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed.

You’re almost asleep when your phone digs with an incoming text. You’ve already texted your family and friends letting them know you’re at the hotel, so you’re annoyed that someone is interrupting your sleep.

That is, until you see who the message is from. Harry’s name pops up with a text asking if you made it safely to Chicago. You practically melt at how sweet it is that he’s checking in on you. You send a quick reply before immediately falling asleep.

The first day of the training session is typical- informative, but boring. Harry’s show is still going when you get back to the hotel, so you watch on a livestream. You’re still exhausted and fall asleep before it’s over.

Waking up the next morning is difficult. Your body feels heavy, like your bones are filled with lead. The chills seem worse than ever and you’re grateful you packed yourself a heavy sweater to wear that day. Not only is it warm, but it covers up the marks from where you’ve been scratching at the skin on your arms due to the incessant itching.

You have trouble concentrating on the training throughout the day. There was one alpha there, and he was somehow in every single session you attended. He didn’t have a bad scent per se, but his presence alone became overwhelming.

By the time the sessions are over, you feel exhausted. You debate skipping dinner altogether but know you at least need some food before you can start your walk to the United Center. The alpha, whose name you’ve learned is Andy, sits next to you at dinner. He seems nice enough, you don’t feel threatened by him, but you still want to finish dinner and get away from him as quickly as possible.

Once dessert is over you grab your bag, ready to escape. Andy stops you before you go, asking for your number. Without thinking you quickly say, “I have a boyfriend,” and hastily leave the restaurant.

You’re not far from the venue, only a few blocks away, and you’re so out of it that you barely notice where your legs are taking you. It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, but you’re on edge the whole time. Glancing at your watch you see that it’s just before 8PM, meaning Harry should still be backstage.

You’re tired, and dizzy, and a little fuzzy, but knowing you’re so close to seeing Harry again has you moving faster than you thought possible. You’ve even built up a slight sweat, and you feel warm for the first time in weeks causing you to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

As you approach the building you hear your name being called. You turn to see Jada running up to you.

 “I didn’t think you’d be here so early! Glad I was talking to one of the security guards, you walked right past the entrance,” she says.

You smile as she hands you your VIP badge and leads you inside.

“Harry has a few minutes before he needs to finish getting ready. He’ll be glad you made it before he goes on, I know he’s been dying to see you,” Jada says, causing you to blush.

“Well, I can’t wait to see him either,” you reply.

She knocks on a door which opens a second later. The first person you see is Mitch, who gives you a hug as he says, “Hey kid, good to see you again.”

“You too!” you answer, somewhat surprised by the warm greeting.

Sarah’s there too, pulling you in to a hug next. The moment her arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness. Black spots flash in your vision and you blink rapidly to try and clear them.

“You okay, love?” she asks as she lets go and takes a step back.

After a couple deep breaths you answer, “I’m good. Practically ran here from dinner, still catching my breath I guess.”

Harry, who’s been quietly watching you quickly walks to the fridge and grabs a water bottle. You reach out your hand so he can pass it to you, and see his eyes focus on your arm. There’s no way he missed the angry red scratch marks there, but you immediately pull your sleeves back down to hide them anyway.

“Can we have a moment?” Harry asks, causing Mitch, Sarah, and Jada to promptly exit and close the door behind them. He motions to the couch, and you’re reminded of the last time the two of you were in his dressing room together.

Like the last time, you sit next to each other, but he seems to be giving you more space. This confuses you. If he’s so excited to see you, why didn’t he greet you with a hug like everyone else? And why is he so far away now? And why does he seem so serious instead of happy?

“Y/N, I have a question, and it’s kind of personal, but I’d like you to answer honestly,” he starts.

“Okay,” you reply, taken aback by this turn of events.

He’s quiet for a moment, seeming to think of exactly what he wants to ask. Finally, he settles on, “Where did those scratches come from?”

“My arms were itchy,” you reply. Not a lie, though probably not the full truth he’s looking for.

“And the dizziness? Cause I don’t think it was from your walk. You seemed fine until Sarah touched you. Until an alpha touched you.”

You know what he’s getting at. He’s no dummy. Just minutes after seeing you he’s figured out what you’ve been hiding for weeks. Hiding from everyone, including yourself.

He watches you, and you know he’s waiting for an answer. But you can’t think of one to give him. So, he continues, “Y/N, I think you have touch deprivation. Is that fair to say?”

You let out a shuddery breath and nod. “Yea, that’s fair to say.”

“It seems pretty severe.”

You finally decide to open up, saying, “It’s been getting worse the past couple weeks. I don’t think my meds are working anymore, and the soonest doctors appointment I could get still isn’t for a couple weeks.”

“I’m worried you’re close to a drop. Like, any minute now. Or that you’ll go under if I touch you. You realize that you were close with Sarah, right? That if you’d stayed in contact with her, or if she’d released any pheromones you’d be in a full drop right now?”

Part of you wants to snark back, yell at him for going full alpha male and acting like he knows your body better than you. But the problem is, he’s right. It’s been so long since the last time you dropped that you forgot what it’s like. You forgot what the signs are.

But now that he’s pointed out the obvious, you really start to feel it. He sees as you deflate, starting to fold in on yourself. His hand reaches out, wanting to comfort you in some way, but he can’t. He can’t risk sending you into a drop, not when he has a show to do in just twenty minutes.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “I didn’t realize it. I thought I was handling it, that I could make it to my doctor’s visit and get new soothers and I’d be okay. I just don’t know what to do if I don’t have meds that work.”

“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

You finally meet his eyes and see that he’s completely serious.

After a moment you nod and reply, “Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll let me help?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else to do. And uhm, I trust you. You’re a good person, Harry. A good alpha.”

He smiles at your words before glancing at the clock and saying, “I have to finish getting ready in a minute. I’d still like to hang out after the concert. I think it might be healthy for you to do a drop with me there, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“I mean, I don’t like dropping. It’s only happened to me twice before and I was alone each time, so they weren’t good experiences. But maybe it will be different if you’re there?”

“I can help you through it, if you’ll let me.”

“What would you do to help? Like, how do alphas help omegas through that?”

“It depends on what you consent to but ah, I would hold you, help you get the touch your omega needs. Most alphas will scent the omega. It lets them know that they’re not alone, that someone is there protecting them, keeping them safe while they can’t do so themselves. I’d also release calming pheromones to keep your omega relaxed.”

“Okay. I’m okay with all of that. I’d like that,” you answer. Truthfully you’re a bit nervous. Harry Styles has just offered to hold you, to scent you for goodness sakes. That’s incredibly intimate. But you’ve felt so awful for weeks, and there are still weeks to go before you can get new soothers. And this is kind of a dream come true.

“Do you want to stay here for the concert? You can hang in here or go to the VIP box. Or you can head to the hotel now and take it easy if you’d like,” he says.

“I’ll stay in here if that’s alright,” you reply.

“It’s more than alright,” he answers. “And if at any point you want to get out of here just text Jada. She can arrange a ride back to my hotel and I’ll meet you there after the show. Or if you change your mind she can get you a ride back to your hotel too.”

“Thank you, Harry. For everything.”

“Of course. I know I don’t know you all that well, but I care about you. Anyway, I uhm, need to get dressed so I’m just gonna step into the bathroom for a moment.”

“I can go in the hall for a minute, get out of your way-”

“Nonsense. You’re not in the way. I’ll be right back.”

Harry finishes getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable on the couch. A couple of people come in, touching up his hair and make-up and before you know it he’s heading to the stage.

You watch on the screen in the room for the first few songs. After a while Jada joins you and you ask if you can watch from the VIP section for a bit. It goes well until Harry and the band take a break. You’d been so focused on the music that you were distracted from everything else around you.

But now all you can hear are all the other people, and it’s overwhelming. It becomes difficult to breathe, and you start to see dark spots once again.

You turn to Jada, and she immediately leads you back to the dressing room.

“Do you want to wait for Harry, or do you want to leave now?” she asks.

“I think I should go,” you reply.

“To your hotel, or his?”

“Harry’s, please.”

“Okay, wait here, I’ll get the car and come back for you in a minute.”

You sit back on the couch, seeking out Harry’s scent to calm you, but it’s barely noticeable.

Jada comes back and you follow her to the car. It’s a quiet ride to the hotel, and once there, she goes with you to the suite.

His room is on the top floor. It’s big, basically a full apartment, and you stay in what seems to be the living room. Jada sits on the couch with you, and you say, “I feel like you have more important things to do than babysit me.”

She laughs and says, “It’s not babysitting. I like hanging out with you. And you’re a priority to Harry. Which makes you a priority to me.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a while until Jada’s phone buzzes. “Shows over,” she says. “Harry’s just getting changed and then he’ll be here soon. He said you can borrow some of his clothes if you want to get comfy.”

You hesitate and she adds, “I have no problem going through his stuff. I can grab you some clothes if you want.” You laugh at that and nod.

A short while later you’ve changed into a pair of Harry’s sweatpants, as well as a t-shirt and hoodie. They smell like him, and you shamelessly inhale the scent you’ve been craving for weeks. The suite door opens, and Harry walks in, looking incredibly cozy in his own pair of sweats.

“Thank you, Jada,” he says. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“Night guys,” she says as she leaves the room.

You’re left alone with Harry. It feels different, here in his hotel room, surrounded by his belongings, while you’re wearing his clothes.

“You left early,” he says.

“Sorry,” you reply.

“Don’t be. I’m just worried as to why you left.”

“I was just overwhelmed. Needed some quiet.”

“I understand. Y/N, are you ready for this? You still seem on the edge of a drop.”

“I’m ready.”

“And have you changed your mind about anything? Or is it okay if I hold and scent you through this?”

You pause for a moment, scared at how vulnerable you’re about to be. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to do that. I trust you.”

He takes a step towards you. “Thank you, for trusting me. We’ll probably be more comfortable in the bed.”

“Lead the way,” you say.

It’s awkward at first, the two of you sitting next to each other in his bed, backs resting against the headboard.

He turns to you and says, “Can I hold you now?”

You nod, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you until you’re tucked under his chin and resting against his chest.

Everything starts to get fuzzy, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. It’s an unsettling feeling, but you know that Harry is there to help you through this.

The last thing you hear before it all goes black is Harry calmly saying, “I’ve got you. Let go. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry can’t describe the helplessness he feels as you go limp in his arms. He doesn’t allow himself to stress, or panic, knowing that his emotions will impact you. Instead, he takes some calming breaths and thinks through everything he knows he needs to do in this situation.

He hears you whimper quietly as you start to shiver, and he doesn’t hesitate to soothe you. It takes some maneuvering, but soon you’re both laying down in the bed. He tucks his nose into your neck and begins to scent you, releasing calming pheromones until you relax.

It continues this way for the next couple of hours. Harry holds you, and scents you, his nose rubbing against the gland in your neck. During one moment when you seem particularly distressed he can’t help but place kisses there to soothe you faster.

Finally, you start to stir. It takes longer than Harry had anticipated, so he’s relieved when your eyes meet his after hours of being closed.

“Hey there,” he says with a soft smile.

“Hi,” you answer groggily. “How long?”

“Couple hours. Your inner omega needed the rest. Now you need some too. Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

It’s the same words he said before you dropped. You wish you could hear that all the time. No one has cared for you before, not like this. It feels good, but you remind yourself not to get used to it. Still, you curl into his embrace, enjoying every moment of contact with Harry that you can get.

The next thing you know, it’s late morning. You’re still cuddling against Harry, and his deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping.

You feel amazing. You’re nice and warm, your mind is clear, and the constant itch and restlessness are nonexistent. You’re extremely grateful, but at the same time, you’re annoyed that you need to depend on another person just to feel normal. But you don’t dwell on that. Because Harry is starting to stir next to you.

“Hey,” he says when your eyes meet his. “How do you feel? Sleep okay?” God, you could melt at the gravelly sound of his morning voice.

“I’m good. Feel better than I have in a long time. And according to that clock, I slept wonderfully.” The two of you laugh, seeing that it’s nearly noon.  

“I was hoping to treat you to a nice breakfast, but I guess I missed the window on that,” Harry says, continuing to laugh with you. “I do still have plenty of time before I need to be at the arena. Would you like to spend the afternoon with me exploring Chicago?”

“I’d love to,” you reply. His face breaks out in a huge smile before he leans down, once again running his nose along your scent gland. You go limp at the feeling, happily submitting to him.

You don’t think about the fact that this is temporary. That you leave to fly home tomorrow afternoon. That you’ll be without his alpha scent once again.

Instead, you think about the hours you have ahead of you, hours to spend with Harry. Nothing could be more perfect.  

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! This was one of the scenes I imagined when I first thought of the story and I'm so happy that it's finally shared with you all!

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Ivan: Well, how’d y’think it makes me feel when the only thing I can get outta you for months is that you’re bored. Is it not enough-.. am I not enough? [Bruno sighed heavily and shook his head with frustration; Ivan just wasn’t getting it] Bruno: Why do you always make everything about yourself? It’s not about how you feel. Ivan: I ain’t sayin’ it is! Bruno: You wanted to know what was wrong-.. but I knew you wouldn’t like the answer, so I kept it to myself. Bruno: I just feel empty and alone, no matter who I’m with or what I’m doing, it’s always the same. I’ve felt like that for as long as I can remember, even when I was a child. Like if I disappeared one day, no one would really care-.. you’d think so at first, but after a month or two it’d be as though I never existed. Ivan: That ain’t true at all… Bruno: Maybe, maybe not, but that’s how I feel regardless. Ivan: Maybe y’oughta get yourself on somethin’, like-… Bruno: Antidepressants don’t help, therapy doesn’t help-.. drugs, alcohol, none of it changes anything. I don’t think I know how to exist in this life; not happily, anyway. Ivan: Don’t say that! Y’just need a purpose or somethin’, I dunno… [Bruno shrugged dismissively; Ivan would never understand. How could Mr. Passionate ever make sense of the bleak void that enveloped his core, that inherently made him who he was?] Bruno: Probably. [Ugh, another deep and twisting adult conversation that made Robin’s head spin. He wondered if this was all grown-ups did; get too busy or stubborn to deal with each other and their bullshit until it all became too much, then take a vacation, relax and let it all out only to repeat the same ridiculous cycle as soon as they got home] Ivan: Y’know I love ya, right? We’ll figure somethin’ out. Bruno: I know, but I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to figure-… Ivan: What the fuck, B? I don’t exactly wanna give u-… [A twig snapped; just as Robin had decided to turn around too-.. bollocks] Ivan: Hey, bud. Bruno: What’re you doing here? [Robin knew that Bruno was feeling extra tense right now, but as nice as he could be, he still felt a little wary of him. He’d seen far too much of his checkered past, and Robin could tell he didn’t carry quite the same guilt as his father or Ivan did-.. nor was he as innocent as them. If you knew too much, which he most certainly did, Bruno was a scary man] Robin: I was just e-exploring. Bruno: It’s a bit late for that, you should be in bed. Ivan: Aye, go on.. we can explore in the mornin’. Ivan: Y’didn’t have t’scare the poor lad. Bruno: He shouldn’t be eavesdropping then. Ivan: Kids are just fuckin’ nosy, B.. simmer down.

[talesofesther]

constellations

Samantha Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You give Sam a bit of calmness amidst the storm.

Requested by anon

A/N: Sam deserves the world and I'd happily give it to her.

Masterlist

Prime suspect Samantha Carpenter.

That was the headline displayed on the TV as the reporter blamed Sam for the recent Ghostface attacks.

Lies. They were all lies, and because of those bullshit rumors. It made your blood boil. You know it was the same feeling for the rest of your friends; the living room was quiet as the reporter's voice echoed through. There was an instant heaviness to the air.

Sam picked up the remote and pressed the 'mute' button, before hurrying off to her bedroom.

No one seemed to know quite what to do. The silence was deafening and you felt the eyes of everyone slowly settling on you.

As much as you two might try to keep it on the low, it was no secret anymore that you and Sam had become rather close these past months. Labels were a bit of a stretch, none of you quite ready for it yet. Still, whenever Sam walked back into the dorm she hoped to find you there; she always chose the chair next to yours on the table; and sometimes you'd catch her staring at you, but then again, she also always caught you staring back.

You felt your cheeks burning, maybe the secret was never a secret after all. "I got it," you mumbled under your breath before following the path Sam set.

The door to her room was left ajar, almost as if wanting you to come after her. You held onto your breath when you slowly pushed it open further.

Sam had her back to you, she was looking out her window at the night sky. The cold wind from outside caught onto the wet tracks down her cheeks.

You closed the door behind you and walked up to her. You knew she knew it was you; because she didn't turn around, she didn't talk, she didn't move a muscle. Not until one of your hands touched her waist, nimble fingers barely grazing the fabric of her shirt were enough to send a shiver up and down her body and get her shoulders tensing slightly.

Part of you lived only for these moments. You brought both hands around Sam's waist, hugging her closer and pressing her back to your chest; she was always so warm, each curve of her body fitting with yours as if you were part of the same constellation, bound to always be linked; you felt how Sam found your hand with hers, messily intertwining your fingers at the same time your lips met the skin on her shoulder. Just you and her.

No words were needed for a few moments. You were content to exist in each other's presence.

Eventually, Sam turned around in your embrace, her eyes were downcast; as if shame tugged at her heartstrings for things she didn't do.

You tried to find her eyes and brought a hand up to rest against her cheek. The pad of your thumb found a teardrop there, and one more soon followed the same path. You brushed them away with all the tenderness you knew she deserved.

"None of it is true," you breathed, "we all know it."

With the ghost of a movement, Sam leaned forward. The plea was barely there but you've been getting good at reading her. You met her halfway for a chaste kiss, your lips soft against her slightly chapped ones.

She pulled away with a gulp, her tongue running over her bottom lip to try and capture the feeling of you. "Still, it sucks being this hated."

You'd never heard her voice quite this broken, this vulnerable. Her dark eyes were shining with the cheap light of her bedroom, a little red-rimmed yet still the most gentle you've ever seen.

How anyone could ever see her as a bad person was beyond you.

Her hair was silky between your fingers when you pushed it behind her ear. "Lay down with me?"

There was an adorable furrow to Sam's eyebrows and you wanted to trap this moment like a spider in a glass.

"We'll figure out the details later." You promised.

It was all that was needed, maybe all she'd been wanting all along, because Sam melted in your hold; her body mostly laying on top of yours as you snuggled in her bed. Her arms came around your waist in a hold so strong that almost constricted your breathing. But you didn't comment on it.

Sam's cheek was resting just above your heart, and the steady beating was sure to lull her to sleep in no time.

Your fingers buried themselves between her hair as you'd occasionally press a kiss to her forehead.

It was the calmness amidst the storm and there were three words stuck in Sam's throat. Because there you were, tangled up in all her broken pieces, and all you wanted to do was stay.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sam’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[seeingivy]

HI RONNIE!!!! HOPE ALL IS WELL POOKIE!! i just have a suggestion for your gojo fics + ts songs if you haven’t done it already bc i havent rlly checked but gorgeous from reputation 😋😋😋

gorgeous

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: nothing much, just some good old thirsting for our favorite sorcerer

an: HELLO MY BELOVED BABIE POOKIE SWEETIE PIE FACE!!! of course I can do gorgeous (which this is actually the fourth time it's been requested for taylor as gojo so I had to do it as fast as I could) fun fact: this was one of my surprise songs when my older sister flew me out to see the eras tour in atlanta!!!!

--

The rosé is sweet as it trickles down your throat, immediately filling you with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the center of your chest. 

“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.” Nanami says, reaching to take the bottle from you. 

“And I’ve had the longest week of my life. Please mind your own business, Kento.” you respond, reaching for the bottle back from him. 

A measly tradition from when you were masters students together is now the only reason you’re making it to the end of the week. After a load of corporate bullshit for Nanami, insane work hours for Shoko, and the most disorganized elementary school in the metropolitan area for you, the three of you come together to bitch and get drunk. 

Let loose. And let loose really means let loose, because the bartender hates you so much that he has a picture of the three of you printed on the front door with a very menacing Do Not Enter sign next to it. 

“Hi Toji.” 

“I’m going to permanently ban you from this bar one day. And I’ll feel no remorse when I kick you out on your ass either.” 

“Toji, stop flirting with me or I’m going to fall in love with you.” 

Toji wrinkles his nose in disgust, looking borderline offended that you would even say such a thing, as he places three beers on the table. You shoot him a wink and he flips you off in response as he walks back to his spot behind the bar. 

“So what is that asshat doing?” Nanami asks. 

You turn your head to find Hiro, the stupid pathologist you’ve been dating for the past eight months, doing some type of…interpretive dance in the middle of the bar with a blonde girl. Interpretive dance is a nice word for twerking on each other. 

“Networking.” 

Shoko and Nanami nearly burst out laughing before pushing their bottles towards you, which you happily accept. 

“You win. What an absolute idiot.” 

You all laugh as you watch Hiro go on, matching disgusted faces plastered on the three of your faces as his arms become more uncoordinated with each changing beat. You turn your head to the side, swallowing down your disgust with Nanami’s beer and silently thanking the Ancient Sumerians for creating the aforementioned beer for you to drown your pity in.  

The door of the bar swings open behind you and Nanami and Shoko lift their hands up, giving a polite wave, before sinking back down into their chairs. You turn around to look at who they were waving at and feel your breath get tangled in your throat. 

Are you drunk? Yes. Are you a little bit delusional? Probably. Is this probably a result of the idiot you’ve been dating doing some type of weird, inappropriate bird mating call on the dance floor that’s more embarrassing for you than it is for him? For sure. 

But the human personification of beauty just walked into the smelly bar and you think you’ve fallen in love. In lust. In whatever you can have with this man, because he’s literally the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He’s tall, his defined arms peeking out through the white, buttoned collared shirt he’s wearing. His sleeves are pulled just past his forearms, because he’s a whore, putting the tiniest of veins on display and honestly, making you foam at the mouth. Not only is he built, not only is he fit but he literally has the face of a fucking angel. 

You’ve never understood that entire thing. Attraction at first sight. You need to sit down, get to know someone, before you can truly like them. And tonight, you stand corrected because there’s something magnetic about him. You can’t help but notice, can’t help but pay attention to him walking around the bar. 

You think it’s illegal. Because who the fuck walks into this dinky ass bar looking like that? Sparkly blue eyes, peeking from behind a pair of sunglasses, and perfectly tousled, snow white hair. Looks that could kill. Like literally kill, because your heart is beating so fast it’s going to explode.  

He walks past the door and takes a seat at the bar, leaning against the table to order his drink. And you’re sure your inhibitions are not present because of the bottle of wine and now four beers that you’ve downed, but you’re full on ogling him. 

Because your day, your week, your life can suck ass but you’ve grown enough to know that you should let yourself enjoy the little things in life. Which includes flagrantly gawking at this beautiful, beautiful stranger. 

“You’re staring.” 

You turn around to face Shoko and Nanami again, nearly twitching in your seat. 

“Who the fuck is that?” 

“Satoru Gojo. He’s a medical malpractice lawyer, he helped out a co-worker of mine a few months ago.” responds Shoko, placing a fresh cigarette in between her teeth. 

“His firm is right across from my office. I see him on the train sometimes on the way to work.” says Nanami, leaning over to light Shoko’s stick. 

“Do you know the things I would do to that man?” 

“What?” 

“I need that man. Horrendously. Biblically. Like we’re Adam and Eve, creating something new. Who the fuck looks like that? Who the fuck walks into Toji’s disgusting ass bar looking like a Greek god? Like an angel descended from the heavens?” 

“Are we talking about the same guy?” Shoko asks, blowing the smoke out of her mouth. 

“Shut up. Don’t act like you don’t go goo goo ga ga over Utahime every time you see her at one of my work functions. This guy is my Utahime.”

“Y/N. Stop.” 

“Shut up Kento. One night with Satoru Gojo and I’d literally lose my fucking mind. Like freak shit - on the table, in the bathroom, on the kitchen counter. Like you know that mind-blowing person you still think about when you’re a smelly, old senile person reliving your glory days when your husband cheats on you? That man under me would be MY glory days. He’s fucking gorgeous.” 

You feel a hand slide around your shoulder and the aforementioned gorgeous man is now sitting right next to you, his other hand resting on your knee. He’s smiling, his eyes even more dazzling when they’re filled with the sincerity of a smile. 

“Gorgeous, huh?” he says, reaching forward to pinch your cheek. 

You stick your face in your hands as you move away from his burning touch.. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He leans forward to shake hands with Shoko and Nanami, exchanging pleasantries with them. The traitors. 

“Were you planning on telling me he was standing right behind me listening while I listed all the ways I would do him, Kento?” 

“What do you think ‘Y/N stop it’ means?” he responds. 

“No need to be ashamed, sweetheart. I think it’s really cute.” 

You roll your eyes as you scoot closer to the other edge of the bench, drowning in your embarrassment as Kento and Shoko break into conversation with Gojo. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“Hey babe. Are you ready to leave?” 

Hiro’s now standing at the side of the table, sweat dripping down the side of his face, as he gestures for you to stand up. And now it’s even more embarrassing, because Gojo looks way too excited to be meeting Hiro right now. 

“I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m Satoru Gojo.” 

“Hiro. I’m dating Y/N.” 

Satoru looks over, smirking at you, before he leans back - and sends your head into a tizzy in the process because who the hell looks attractive smirking like that. 

“Congratulations. You must be really happy together. Life changing.” he says. 

You can feel your cheeks burning. He’s teasing you. You just admitted all the things you would do to him out loud, about how one night with him would change your life, and not only did he hear but now he’s sticking it to your boyfriend too. 

You push past him in the booth, give Shoko and Nanami a halfhearted smile, before you drag Hiro out of the bar with you. 

--

You sit against the pavement, bumping knees with Itadori, as you both eye the empty parking lot in front of you. 

“I’m really sorry. My grandpa should actually be here any minute.” 

You look over at him, his pink hair tousled messily and the way he’s nervously fidgeting with the strings of his yellow hoodie. You give him a smile, knowing all too well the embarrassment of being the last kid picked up from school. Patiently waiting for someone to remember to pick you up. 

“Are you enjoying the third grade, Itadori?” 

“Yeah. I made a few friends recently which is nice.” 

“That’s always fun, kid. I’m glad you’re situating okay. Do you like the area?” 

“I kind of miss my old house. But it’s nice to spend time with my grandpa.” 

You feel your heart ache as you remember the little file they sent over, the written note from your principal pressed on top. That his parents passed away just before the start of the school year and his grandfather, one of his only living family members, wasn’t doing too well either. 

“Do you like your teacher?” 

He looks over, a shy smile on his face. 

“She’s okay.” 

You smile, reaching forward to mess with her hair. 

“Just okay? I think I’m pretty cool.” 

“Eh.” 

You reach into your pocket for the lollipop you swiped from your stash and hold it out in front of him. You watch his face light up, his excited little hands ripping the paper off. 

“Am I cool yet, Itadori?” 

“Freezing.” 

You smile, giving his shoulder a squeeze as a black car pulls up, stopping right in front of you. And out comes Satoru Gojo, in all his beauty, and one of your other students, Megumi Fushiguro. 

Megumi runs straight up to Itadori, holding out his hand, as he starts dragging him to the car. You stand up, awkwardly brushing your palms against your pencil skirt as Satoru walks up to you, a smirk on his face. 

And what the fuck is he doing here?

“Hi.” 

“Hello. Are you here to pick up Itadori?” 

“Sure am, pretty girl. Have a note from his grandpa, he’s not really feeling well.” 

You nod, ignoring the tingle in your hands as he brushes his fingers against yours to hand you the note. You pretend to read the note as you try to calm your breaths and look back up at him. 

Ocean blue eyes, staring into yours. 

“Perfect. Well, you’re good to go.” 

Satoru gives you a look before bending down to Itadori and Megumi’s heights, giving them the keys to the car and full access to playing with his stereo system. They both excitedly run into the car, leaving you and Satoru outside the school. 

“Are you not leaving?” 

“I thought we could chat for a bit.” 

You clench your fists as he takes Itadori’s seat on the pavement and gestures for you to sit next to him. You both eye Megumi and Itadori in the car, the two of them now sticking their faces too close to the air conditioning vents and manically laughing at how poofed up their hair is getting. 

“How are you?” 

“Satoru Gojo. Are you really making me sit here on the pavement to ask me how I am?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Well. I already know a lot about you. Your name, your occupation, how you feel about me. I feel like we skipped a few steps so we should backtrack. I didn’t even know you were my kids' teacher till about three seconds ago.” he says, smirking over at you. 

“Excuse me. How I feel about you?” 

“Oh, you know. On the table, in the bathroom, on the kitchen counter.” he responds, his voice all sing-songy. 

“Isn’t your wife waiting for you at home?” 

You can feel the jealousy seething in you already, because you know his answer. Because there is no universe where this man does not have a girlfriend already. The best ones are already taken. He leans closer, pinching your cheek in response. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I think the whole my kid’s elementary school teacher cheating affair is cliche, Satoru. Dare I say, even more cliche than the nanny.” 

“But not as cliche as the secretary.” 

“Oh, of course not. That’s the holy grail of cliche cheating affairs.” 

He laughs, leaning back on his forearms as you both fall into the silence. Stupid, fucking gorgeous funny charismatic looking-

“No wife for me fortunately. Or girlfriend either.” 

That’s somehow worse. Because if he had a girlfriend, you could be jealous of her. Put her face on a cardboard box and kick it off a cliff. But he’s single. And now he’s just something you want but can’t have. Entirely attainable but not in your reach. 

Also known as, frustrating as hell. 

“Shame. I’m sure girls are lining up at the door to experience the joys of dating you.” 

“And you’re first in line, sweetheart.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as he stands up, the tension so unbearable you can feel it eating at you alive. He holds his hand out, that little tingle running through you again, as he helps you up, now dragging Megumi and Itadori out of the front seats. You give the three of them a smile, your blood burning, as they drive away. 

He sends you a gift the next day. A donation of classroom supplies you had been egregiously emailing all the parents about and a handwritten note. 

the start of a cliche <3 - satoru 

You try to wipe the smile off your face. The fluttering in your chest. The presence of him in your dreams and in your mind at all times. 

Suddenly, you’re seventeen again and you remember the biggest woes of your teenage life. 

The ups and downs of having a crush on someone. 

--

You clench the bowl of pudding in your hands as you ring the doorbell, which sprouts a large amount of commotion and noise behind the door. You give your hair one last pat down, after fretting over it for six hours in the mirror, as the door swings open. 

You’re met with Satoru Gojo and a pink apron hanging around his neck. 

“Nice outfit, Gojo. Can I try it on sometime?” 

“I’ll take it off and give you a show right now, sweetheart.” 

You feel your cheeks blazing as he drags you in, his warm hands taking the bowl from yours. You can hear thumping upstairs, which you’re sure is Megumi, Itadori, and Kugisaki making a mess of Gojo’s apartment. 

You follow him to the kitchen, taking a quick moment to totally check him out, before you make it to his mess of a birthday cake.

“There’s no way you’re going to actually give them that, are you?” 

“What’s wrong with it? It’s homemade. It has that Satoru charm.” 

“More like a stinky charm. What is that smell?” 

“The dishes. I need to do them because they’re kind of sticking to the pans. From this downright radioactive cake I just made.” 

You shoo him away, taking on the duty of properly making something out of the ruins of the "cake" Satoru had spread on his counter. From your vantage point, he has his back turned to you, which gives you full permission to ogle him once again. 

You realize that this is creepy. That no part of this is romantic and that he only invited you to Itadori’s little birthday party because you’re one of five people he actually knows in this city. But god is your heart beaming at the fact that the two of you are like this, together and alone. 

You’re mixing the frosting, a perfect light pink to match Itadori’s hair, and all you can think about is how good Satoru looks in a kitchen. In that run down t-shirt and sweatpants. Being all domestic. 

The way his arms look when he’s washing the dishes, how he looks when he puts things back into the fridge - his arm flexed against the handle. How reaching for the top cupboards makes the end of his shirt lift a little and you can see that muscled skin on his back. 

“I’m sure that the frosting is mixed by now. You’ve been going really hard at it.” 

You feel your face burn as you fill the piping bag, entirely embarrassed that he caught you staring. He makes his way over as you fill up the bags, the two of you frosting the entire sides of the cake together. At the end, you and Satoru take turns frosting the letters - the happy birthday in Satoru’s messy block printing and the itadori in your swirly cursive. 

He gives you a smile and it makes your heart all lopsided as he walks away. He goes toward the stairs, gesturing for all three of them to come down. 

You hear three pounding footsteps and then are bombarded with all three of them hugging you, pleasantly surprised at your arrival. 

“Are you here for my birthday?” 

“I sure am, birthday boy. I even brought you a gift, Itadori.” you respond, pinching his little cheek. 

He leans into your touch, giving you a hard hug before he lets go to run towards the kitchen. Gojo’s too busy strapping little birthday hats onto Nobara and Megumi's head as the two of you walk in, Satoru you a gleaming smile as he carries the last two hats over to you. 

“Purple or blue? Your pick, milady.” 

You point at the blue party hat which Gojo smiles at, before he lifts his hands to your face and secures the hat around your head. Some part of your hair gets tangled with the string, which Gojo fixes with the swiftness of his hands, immediately securing your hair back behind your ear. 

You could die happy then and there. 

He gives you a smile before turning back to Itadori - tickling him and screaming singing happy birthday into his ears, making the kid laugh so hard he’s crying out of his eyes. 

And you hate Satoru for inviting you. Surely he must know that something like this would only make you like him more. 

--

You turn your neck, just at the slightest angle, to get sight of him in your periphery. Keeping an eye on him is the only way to keep him at arm's length. And you’ve successfully avoided him three times now. 

More dressed down than the past few times you’ve seen him, Satoru is wearing a run down t-shirt and five inch inseam shorts - and he’s very excitedly chatting up Utahime and Nanami. You may be seeing things, but you swear he inches closer every time you move, the majority of his frame always turned to whichever direction you're standing in. 

Shoko starts poking your cheek aggressively to catch your attention, her face a few feet away from yours. 

“You know if you look from the side, it’s still considered staring.” she says. 

“Shut up. You’re acting like you weren’t staring either, Shoko.” 

“Staring at who?” 

You turn around to find the person attached to the voice and immediately walk away. Of course it was fucking Gojo. 

Even the sound of his voice is enough to make your heart race, like you're a six year old girl meeting your crush on the swings. You immediately race to Shoko’s bedroom, for a few seconds to calm yourself down. Sober up before you say something embarrassing again. 

When you make it to her room, you haphazardly shut the door behind you and fall face first into Shoko’s bed. You can still smell the laundry on her sheets, perfectly starched and fitted to perfection. You yank your phone out from your back pocket, quickly sliding through emails and making mental notes for your to-do list tomorrow to distract yourself. 

You hear the door open and close behind you, the tiny lock clicking against the frame. You turn around to find Satoru standing before you, his hands crossed against his chest. 

“Why do you hate me?” 

You frown, taken aback by his question. 

“What?” 

“Why do you hate me, Y/N? I’ve made every effort to be your friend, to be your anything and you keep ignoring me.” 

“When the hell did I ignore you?” 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night. Every time I walk up to a group you’re standing in, you walk away.” 

“That’s not intentional, I-” 

“I sent you everything on your wishlist for your classroom. For your students, because you wanted it really badly.” 

“And I appreciate that, I really do and-” 

“You didn’t even stop by to thank me. I’ve been picking up Megumi everyday waiting for you to come out.” 

“Thank you. Really, it’s made such a big difference and I’ve-” 

“Why don't you want to be friends with me?” 

You can feel the anger, the tension, the goddamn jumbled mess of feelings this idiot makes you feel bubbling out of your mouth as you start screaming at him, at the goddamn idiocy falling out of his mouth right now. 

“That's just the fucking problem. I don't want to be friends with you because I want to be more. You should take it as a compliment that I went out of my way to talk to everyone here but you. That I like you so much that I can’t stand to even be near you without telling you.” 

You can see the shock spread across his face as you keep rambling, the words stringing out of your mouth. 

“I don’t not talk to you on purpose. But every time I look at you, I can’t say anything to your face. You-you’re just-” 

“Just what?” 

“You make me so happy it’s ridiculous. You could smile at me and I’d be on the floor, giggling in my bed like I’m a twelve year old. You’re- your banter leaves me blushing, your smile makes my heart beat so fast, and you make me so happy that it makes me sad I can’t have you. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you for the literal second time now so can I please just leave before you humiliate me some more?"  

You can feel your chest heaving, a very wide eyed Gojo staring back at you with a smile on his face. You make your move to run past him, to literally avoid this guy for the rest of your life, but he grabs onto your wrist, pulling you back so you’re leaning into his chest. 

"Leave me alone. I'll probably just go die alone at home with my cats now."

“It's my turn to talk now.” he says, his voice low.

“What?” 

“It's my turn to talk. You’ve gotten to ramble about how you feel twice and you have yet to let me do it even once.” he deadpans, cupping your face in the side of his hand. 

You nod, your cheek searing from his warm hand on your skin. 

“You think I’m gorgeous. But I think you’re irresistible.” 

“Huh?” 

“You. are. irresistible. Every time I see you, every time I even hear about you, it makes my heart bloom in my chest. Remember that smiley face you put in the email about Megumi’s grades? I literally had to bite down on my hand to avoid fucking screaming about the entire thing. That one time you smiled at me from across the hall when I went to pick Tsumiki up from her class? I was on the fucking floor.” 

He brings his other hand up, securing it around your neck to angle your face up. His eyes are burning with something you can’t place and it’s making your stomach swarm with an array of butterflies. 

“And the first night I met you. Your little grumpy face with your hands curled around two bottles of beer. Giggling with Shoko and Nanami, laughing so hard you were crying. You are so, so goddamn cute, so fucking beautiful that I just had to walk over. To have your eyes looking in mine, even if it was just once.” 

He leans down, pressing his lips against yours, as you nearly melt into his arms, losing the agency you had over your footing. He must sense it because he immediately brings his hands down, lifting you up from your waist so you’re even closer to his mouth, his lips deepening the kiss. He breaks apart, whispering against your mouth.

“I’d like to meet your cats.” 

“What cats?” 

“You literally just said you were going to do die at home alone with your cats."

"Oh. Right. I live alone, that was kind of just an expression."

"S'okay. You've always had a flair for the dramatics."

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

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[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 7

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: catch the easter egg hehe

Word Count: 2.60k

Just one day, you tell yourself. One day to forget about all the bullshit in your life and just enjoy yourself. It is a party in your name, after all.

After some moaning and groaning from Roman, you manage to drag him out of bed and get him ready. You stand, hips touching, as he messes with his cologne and you put in your earrings.

“You know some shit is going to happen today,” he mutters.

“Why would you say that?” you chide. “We should be relaxed. It’s our last night here.”

“Murphy’s Law, Y/N.”

“I didn’t know you were smart enough to know what that is.” He smacks your shoulder lightly. “What? I’m being honest,” you tease, smoothing out the wrinkles in the dress you’d picked out a few days before.

“I’m extremely intelligent, just so you know.”

“Sure, Roman.” You laugh.

“I’m the one who got Connor’s watch. And…,” he says conspiratorially, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I got someone’s personal bank records.”

“I love it when a man commits federal crimes for me,” you say faux-dreamily, smiling at him.

“Y/N, it’s not illegal, if I, er, found them.”

“We’ll talk about it later. I want a stress-free night.”

“Murphy’s Law,” he repeats. “What can go wrong will go wrong.”

“Is it too much to ask of your father to keep his opinions to himself for one night?” you ask, sighing. You perfect your look in the mirror before stepping away form Roman.

He follows you out the door, his fingers subtly intertwined with yours. He’s warmed up to your touch- not that he’s ever not liked it. Kissing, apparently, is still out of the question. You’d realized when you tried giving him a peck good night before bed the other day.

You can’t even begin to count all the people in attendance tonight. You don’t know most of them, as you’d expected, which makes your job more difficult. You have to make yourself look good- and Logan.

You mill about, doing what Roman refers to as ‘standing there and looking so damn pretty’, watching the crowd. He’d scuttled off in the name of finding desserts, leaving you to yourself and your thoughts. Logan had spared no expense for his son- chandeliers were lit, servers were flitting here and there, tables upon tables of food were laid out.

While your situation is less than ideal, you’re able to appreciate nice things when they come.

You idly sip from your glass, letting your gaze rake over the crowd. Logan is sitting by himself off to a corner, seemingly trying to gather his strength to even get up. You wonder where Marcia is, and you briefly feel a pang of sympathy. Only briefly.

Shiv is more than likely flirting with some random guy, you tell yourself, Kendall probably asleep in a separate room. Connor is entertaining his own circle of guests, in his element. He makes weird flapping motions with his arms, and you’re thankful you weren’t pulled into that conversation. Greg is happily munching on an assortment of treats. You’re delighted he’s gotten a break. He’s a good man; he deserves it.

Your gaze snags on a strangely already-balding young man. Before you’d left for this party, Roman had shown you a headshot of the accountant Connor was working with. He seemed freshly out of college, but both his face and certain records you’re sure you’ll be able to dig up say otherwise. If anything, he was suspicious.

To your dismay, he makes his way over to you. You hope this won’t be a repeat of the charity gala- you don’t think you’ll be able to control yourself this time. This guy has a punchable face, anyway.

“The future Mrs. Roy,” he says heartily. You lazily raise your glass to him. “I’ve been keen to meet you.” He talks like an old man, too. “I’m the one who directed my client to you when his things got stolen at the hotel.”

You straighten slightly. “Were you, now? I thought it just came with our… familial ties.” You flash your engagement ring at him.

“I mean, of course that’d be the natural course of thought. Regardless, I had to make sure he went with the best, and you’re the best.”

You’re certain he’s trying to kiss your ass. The question is why. You fold one of your arms over your torso and regard him. “Who are you, again?”

He straightens his blazer and extends his hand out to the one you currently have holding your glass. Jerkily, he puts it back down by his side and says, “Peirce Thompson. Thompson & Thompson Accounting and Banking.”

“What a firm name,” you say blandly.

“My brother and I started the thing up from our bedroom way back when, and the name’s just stuck.”

“So you’ve been around a while, then?”

“Oh, ages, absolute ages.” He dusts off an imaginary bit of lint from his shoulder. You press your lips together.

“Why haven’t I heard of you, then?” you ask carefully.

“Psh, your type of law and my finance rarely collide,” he says condescendingly. “We’re in two different worlds, sweetheart.”

Trying not to recede into yourself, you give him a strange look. What he’s saying is bullshit- you know your way around economics, and you run your own firm. Clearly, you have a handle on finance. “If you say so.”

As if Connor’s shenanigans couldn’t get more confusing. This accountant banker bitch reeks of fish- both figuratively and literally, unfortunately.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you ever personally taken care of many fraud cases?”

“Depends on the kind of fraud we’re talking about.” You manage to catch Kendall’s eyes over Peirce’s shoulder. You subtly widen and release your eyelids, trying to get him to come over.

“Er, tax fraud.”

”Sure I have. Why do you ask?” You turn your gaze back to his.

“Only wondering. Some issues are arising with… clients.”

“Clients, huh?”

Thankfully, before he can say anything, Kendall claps his hand over Peirce’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be here today,” Kendall says stiffly. “Funny you’d show your face after raking up the interest for my dad by ‘forgetting’ to pay his taxes.” You have to keep yourself from laughing. Kendall continues. “You’ve met my sister? Trying to weasel your way into her finances, too?” He shifts to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. Your heart warms when he refers to you as family.

Peirce grits his teeth. “Lies don’t look good on you, Mr. Roy.”

Kendall snorts before pressing a hand to your back and guiding you away. “Thanks,” you murmur to him as you both slip away.

“He makes me want to rip my hair out. I’ve got you.”

You both make your way to a table, taking seats. You’d been standing for so long your feet were aching. Roman finds you and pulls a chair up right next to yours, and when he sits, he makes sure his leg is touching yours.

Kendall takes note, his eyes flickering from you to Roman. “What happened to ‘I’m going to kill her before I let her near me?’”

You laugh. “You said that?”

“I say lots of things I don’t remember.” Roman pushes a plate piled high with sweets towards you. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got you everything.”

You give his knee a pat. “I appreciate you trying, Roman, but that’s way too much.”

“We’ll all share,” he insists. Kendall smiles, taking the miniature slice of German chocolate cake and setting it on his place.

“My wife catered,” he says simply. “She owns that bakery you like, Y/N. The one always open on the holidays.”

You smile softly at him. You’re happy that he’s happy. You and Roman pig out on the sweets, chattering comfortably until his eyes catch someone as they cross the room.

He somehow manages to smack Kendall’s chest from across the table and stares back into the crowd.

You and Kendall both follow Roman’s gaze. You just barely catch Marcia as she slips out of the main atrium, a man in tow.

Kendall must see something you don’t. “Give me your fucking phone,” he says quickly. Without thinking, you hand it to him and he power walks after her. You and Roman follow, albeit much slower because Kendall already looks crazy.

Kendall’s leagues ahead of you at this point, but he’s slow enough that you and Roman can tail him. You wind through the corridors until the three of you have stopped in an eerily empty hallway. Kendall is peeping into the sitting area that dead-ends the hall, and almost immediately doubles back, seemingly sick. He steels himself, then takes your phone and sticks it through the doorway and starts filming.

Peeking over his shoulder, you wince.

Marcia has a fuck buddy, and it isn’t Logan Roy.

As desperately as you want to get rid of the image of Marcia having sex from your brain, you can’t. It simultaneously makes you want to puke but also, disgustingly, elated that you now have something over her- and by proxy, Logan.

After an excruciating five minutes, the three of you had gone back to the party. You and Roman had danced a bit, and he’d admittedly embarrassed you with his extremely out-of-date moves. Despite it all, you’d found yourself laughing and having more fun than you’d had in ages.

Now, you’re struggling to unzip the back of your dress. Roman’s stooped over the sink, aggressively washing his face.

“Rome, you’re going to rip it off. Calm down,” you manage, tongue between your teeth as you continue to attempt to pull down the zipper.

He pats his face dry with a towel. “I’m being thorough.” Without being asked,he comes over to you and tugs the zipper open. “You should wear that more often.”

“I literally just got it.”

“Yeah. Keep wearing it.” His hands go to sit on your hips, gently rubbing.

“What’s with the affection all of the sudden?” He settles his face into your shoulder as you move to put your hair up. “Not that I’m complaining.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Getting more comfortable,” he says into your skin. “I don’t… I’ve never had a relationship like this. Where we genuinely liked each other.” You stay silent, letting him gather his thoughts. “I’m just scared. But we’ve been over that before.”

”You can always tell me how you’re feeling,” you say softly.

“I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t think I’ll physically be able to handle it.” Roman pulls away from you, padding into the bedroom. You quickly change into your pajamas before following him, slipping under the covers by his side. “I also don’t want to hurt you,” he says quietly.

“What makes you think you’ll hurt me?”

“I don’t exactly have the greatest track record with relationships, do I? Behind all that hoity toity lawyer stuff, you’re so horribly kind. It makes me sick, honestly.” He’s facing you, pain flickering across his face. “People have never really liked me for me, you know? It’s always just for my money, or my brother, or Dad. It’s like… it’s like I’m not even here.”

You take a moment before responding. “I see you. You work hard, Roman. I should express my appreciation more.”

You’re right. Despite your consistent bickering in the beginning, Roman was dedicated to what you were trying to do together. Like clockwork, he’d have paperwork on your desk or news articles sent or even a mug of coffee. Recently, too- he’d helped you confirm Connor was lying, and now he apparently has dirt on his finances- and financier.

“Even though you’re honestly a jerk, I think deep down under all of that clownery you’re a good guy,” you murmur.

“You’re so backhanded,” he complains, reaching across you to pull you into him. His arm wraps around your back, the other sitting on the back of your thigh as he shifts you on top of him. You set your cheek on his chest.

“Really, Roman. I think you’re too hard on yourself.” His fingers trace circles into your skin.

“I don’t even know what I’m talking about.” You catch your eyes drooping as he speaks. “I want to try this. Seriously. Actually.”

“You can,” you murmur back. “We can.”

“I want to start acting like a real couple. I want you to trust me, to feel safe with me.”

You sigh happily as his fingers continue their ministrations. “I already do.”

“That makes you kind of stupid, really.” Roman presses a hesitant kiss to your head. “Like you said, I’m a jerk, and on top of that, I’m vain, self absorbed, wickedly good looking…”

“Oh, shut up.” You laugh lightly into his chest.

He does, for a few moments. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

He gently takes your chin, tilting it up enough so he can look at you. You can tell he’s fighting with himself in his mind. Shakily, he presses his lips to yours.

It’s a stiff, awkward kiss, and he pulls away quickly.

“Good night, Y/N.”

☾𖤓

The next morning, you’re leaning against the wall, fighting off sleep. Your flight is bright and early, and therefore so are you. Roman insisted to carry all of your luggage out to the car, so you stand in the foyer, avoiding the outside chill of the morning. You and Greg talk about nothing while Kendall stares into his empty coffee cup, Shiv on his other side, teeth chattering.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you- I’ve gotten a few bank statements I want you to take a look at. Don’t worry about them now, though. I don’t want you stressing until we get back. I mean, I don’t want you stressing at all, and I’m just trying to preserve the peace until we get back to the States. I mean- I don’t know what I mean.”

You give his arm an affectionate squeeze, and he rubs the grogginess from his eyes.

Roman shuffles back in, his breath clouding out in front of him before he steps back into the heat. “Santa took a fat shit outside.”

“How poetic,” you mutter in response. “You have such a way with words.”

He waits for the other three to file out of the foyer before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Just for you.”

The flight back is lethargic. Nobody wants to get back to work, least of all you. Roman’s sprawled across your lap, and you idly scratch at his scalp. Kendall sits on your other side, slumped against you with his blanket pulled over his head. Shiv once again sits across from you, her legs once again propped up on the side of your lap Roman isn’t occupying. Greg has a sofa all to himself, his legs sticking off the end as he snores lightly.

Logan, again, had elected to take a different flight. It’s for the better, anyway.

“You think I can hire a hit man without getting arrested?” Shiv asks you nonchalantly.

“I want to see you try.” You give her ankle a pat. “You’ll do great,” you tell her sarcastically. “I’ll be so excited to come see you during prison visiting hours. If you get any.”

“Oh, be quiet. I’d execute it perfectly.”

“I really do hope you’re joking. Do you know how stupid people who hire ‘hit men’ are?” you ask, making air quotes with your free hand.

“What? It’d be fun, I think.”

“Stop thinking, then, Shiv.”

The rest of the long flight goes by slowly. When you step off the stairway and onto the asphalt, you take a breath of the smoke-infused air. It’s disgusting compared to the crisp, Norwegian air. Your nose scrunches.

“Fuckin’ gross…,” Kendall mutters as he gently pushes past you, his face mirroring yours. After everyone goes their separate ways, you and Roman are left to each other in the backseat of the car taking you back to your apartment.

The rest of the day is lazy. You spend it curled together on the couch.

[deadpool15]

Girl please

I'm walking around trying to gather all my shit. I can't ever find shit in this bitch. "Baby, if you can't come that absolutely fine. I just thought since you were in Korea, well, you know.." I turn around and stare at the phone. "Kirsten Dogen, you sit there and pass off a fake ass undertone with me again, and you are not getting those snacks you like when I pull up. Don't throw shade at me, young lady." I hear a bunch of laughs coming from the phone which I can't really identify, I guess those are the other girls she is doing the photoshoot with. Serves her right. I don't take the back talk. "Baby, really legal government names, that's how we gonna play it." She says with a pout on that God forsaken beautiful fucking face. But I realize to back down. "And did, what's your point."

"Also, your fav boots are in our closet, in my side, sweetie," When I heard those words, I turned around, and I almost got whiplash. "Why would MY boots be on your side, huh?" She stares at me sheepishly before trying to make it seem like someone is calling her, and quickly saying she had to go. I sit there in disbelief, "I know she did not just hang up on me. And proceeded to not answer my question at that. Girl literally just cut me off like I wasn't talking." After a while of absolute bullshit I finally decided to finish getting ready. It was pretty hot in Korea, so I went for some shorts and a crop. With my favorite boots, of course. I then decided to call up Yeonjun. Me and that man had been friends ever since his family decided to randomly pull up to California for a couple of years. I showed him around, and his mom used to joke about us being together. Then he came back to Korea and our parents thought it would be a good idea to send each other letters.

Our friendship has lasted for what felt like a lifetime, and I love that dude. Through Kirsten couldn't stand him. I felt like she had just never taken the time to give him a chance. Sure, Yeonjun was flirty sometimes, but that's just him as a person, and he knew when to back off. I would never hurt my wife, and sometimes, I felt like she didn't trust me. I mean, Yeonjun was literally my right hand at our wedding. Out there standing next to me prepared me for my life, cheering the loudest when we officially got married. It even got to the point where she shit talked him once and got angry at me. Like true enough, I love my wife, and I love my bestie, so I wanted them to get along. Hopefully, today works out. I had been signed to Hybe labels as an official choreographer, mainly working with newjeans because those are my girls, but I had worked with other groups as well. The public was quite familiar with me and our friendship, so it was never any dating rumors. Sure, people wanted us together, but that's their issue. I'm happily married.

Yeonjun had pulled up in his van. Opened the door before I hit him in the head. "Why are you always so aggressive all the time? There was literally no need for that hit, Cece." I just push him in the van before grabbing his face. Every time I go to America, I leave for a while. I had to take some other jobs that were literally amazing. Though when I come back, I always make it a habit of checking Yeonjun. Companies are known to starve their idols with fucked up so called diets and I refused to allow it to happen to my bestie. I mean, I almost beat a staff ass for suggesting my litter hyein needed to lose a couple of pounds. "You look good, just doing my family checks." He smiled at me, "I'm glad you care about my health so much, sis." We sat there in the car just catching up on all the shig we have missed in life. Before I told him we would be going to see Kirsten, he just smiled and said, "That's cool." Weridly enough he never had a issue with her, and never tried to say anything back when she insulted him stating she is your wife and you my little sister, I understand why she is jealous but I wouldn't disrespect you other half. My brother is just too amazing. Sometimes, I feel like he read that shit from a magazine.

We pulled up the building, seeing workers running around and losing their minds, trying to make sure everything was perfect. As I walked inside, I heard a scream typical, it what I get for being koreas number it boy with me. Yeonjun just smiles and embraces all the attention. He has also been a suckered for the spotlight. While he is doing that, I tell him I'll go in the back to find Kirsten. I walk away, thankfully, running into Funky Y and greeting her, of course. She is all smiles and asking me all these questions before I cut the conversation short and ask about Kristen. "She is in the back with makeup." I nod and thank her before making my way back there. Seeing her getting all dolled up dripped down in Calvin Klein for the shoot, "Well, look at you." Hearing my voice, she immediately turns around before jumping up to hug me. "Omg, you're finally here. I thought you were made at me about the boot thing. I just wore them at the beginning of the show, to like reveal us. So it technically wasn't that long." I brush her hair out of her face, taking a goof look at her. "I don't care that you wore them, I care that you hung up on me while we were still talking. Don't think I forgot about that. And there shall be punishments in order, baby." I smirk once I see her scared face before kissing her head, trying not to mess up her makeup.

"Guys, it took me forever to find you. It's like a lot of rooms in here. Hi, Kirsten. You look great. What's the shoot for?" Yeonjun asks while running in her out of breath, I turn and laugh at him before turning back to her and see her face. "It's Calvin Klein, pretty obvious to anyone with a brain." She states with a look of pure annoyance while staring at him. Then whispered in my ear why you had to bring him. I grip her arm as a warning, while yeonjun asks us if we want anything to drink, I tell him I'll have an apple juice before Kirsten says nothing from you. "OK, fucking stop it. I try my very best not to take sides because I care about both of you and want you to equally get along. But this shit ends now," I see her face try to turn into a pout before I squeeze her side, letting her know I'm not dealing with the fake shit. "No more animosity or any of that shit, got it." They both look at each other before Yeonjun randomly hugs us both. "I don't have a problem with you, Kirsten. If anything, I'm glad that my litter sister was able to find you, though I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you feel angry. I look over to her, stating it's her turn, and she sighs, "You didn't really do anything, it's just you two are so close, and I know you don't like her like that. But I told myself that if I hated you, it would be easier. Which is a really hard thing to do since you are so happy and bright. I was insecure, and I took it out of you, but then I realized you two are just like siblings, and I felt stupid and thought it was all in my head."

Yeonjun hugs us closer before saying he will give us a minute while patting Kirsten on the back. "Baby, your thoughts are never stupid, and if you feel so strongly, you come and talk to me. We are a team, and till death, do us part remember." She smiles while hugging me tighter and kissing all over my face. "It's ok, I'll try my best to make it up, Yeonjun, for all the shit I put him through. I know he is a nice guy." I just rock her from side to side while listening. "That's amazing, baby, and don't think I forgot about your punishment from earlier. You are in for it when we get home, baby." I tell her while gripping her ass.

Request by @kirsmyonlyone

[novalunosiss]

It’s almost been 24 hours since vol 2 came out and I’m still super pissed off, so here’s a list of everything wrong in volume 2.

Byler. Queerbait of the fucking century??? I would’ve been significantly less upset if they hadn’t advertised/marketed it so hard during pride month. And making the queer kid the sad gay vessel through which the straight couple thrives is nothing short of homophobic.

The deaths. They advertised this season as being particularly dangerous/full of death, which was a straight up lie. The only people who died were either antagonists or minor background characters, with the exception of Eddie (though it was extremely obvious from the start that he was canon fodder, much like Bob- despite how much I liked Eddie’s character, there was never a doubt in my mind that he wasn’t going to die.)

Max’s “death”. So I know I just did a section on the deaths but this one pissed me off so much I had to give it it’s own seperate section. Max’s “death” was a total copout. Don’t get me wrong, I love her character. But I wish she did die. Having someone die and be brought back to life is such a terrible, cliche, overused trope. It’s too safe of a choice. Where is the danger? I want to actually be scared that the characters I love might not make it out alive. And since when could El bring people back to life? That’s never been explored in the show before, making it completely out of place and confusing when watching the scene. Having Max die would’ve been impactful, and shown to the audience that any of the characters can die, not just new ones, or unimportant background ones. It would’ve raised the stakes! The scene where she “died” was heartbreaking and powerful, but then they negated that by bringing her back to life, rendering the scene pointless. They either should’ve actually genuinely killed her, or not have her “die” at all. Having that “in-between” sort of situation where she technically died, but came back to life (albeit in a coma) was super flaky, and imo, bad writing.

Speaking of bad writing, the time skip! This is genuinely one of the worst things I’ve seen implemented in the show. I generally don’t like time skips anyway, but at least the one at the end of s3 made sense. The main drama of that season was resolved, and they needed to show the Byers moving away. The time skip this season, however, made 0 fucking sense. The drama hadn’t been resolved, it just skipped like half of the climax and the entirety of the falling action, and went straight to the resolution (which wasn’t even a resolution at all). 2 days is a pretty big time skip to implement after skipping half the climax. What happened during those two days??? It was confusing as fuck, and none of the characters actions/behaviour during the “resolution” phase of the story made sense, maybe with the exception of Dustin and Lucas, who were shown to be grieving unlike almost everyone else. You’re telling me that Nancy, Robin and Steve just fought fucking Vecna, almost died, and some of their friends did die (if you count Max) and two days later they’re happily packing up a bunch of old belongings to donate, without a care in the world? And during that scene, there seemed to be little to no concern about Mike’s whereabouts from the entire Wheeler family until he actually showed up. They mentioned they’d been trying to contact them for days, but nothing about their demeanour beforehand implied concern.

The monologue. Need I even say more? It was cheesy, cringey, and made no narrative sense. The reasoning Mike gave for being unable to tell El he loved her was one of the stupidest reasons I’ve seen in media, ever. Where was the “amazing monologue” we were promised by the Duffers? That sure as hell isn’t what I’d call amazing. Finn is a great actor, and he’s done amazing monologues before (*cough cough*, the shed scene) so that isn’t on him, it’s on the shitty script. “I feel like my life first started when I met you in the woods”? Bullshit, and such a cruel thing to say in front of Will, who’s life was literally turned upside down on the exact same day. “I loved you since the moment I saw you”? Love at first sight is a cringey trope. Mike was 12 when he first met Eleven. He probably didn’t even know the meaning of love, especially when you take a look at how dysfunctional his parents marriage is/Nancy, his older sisters relationship at the time was. Also, how can he say he loved her the moment he saw her when he spent most of s1 trying to get rid of her (saying he was going to send her back to pennhurst) and calling her a “weapon”? El could’ve found strength to beat Vecna in something far more significant than a teenage boy telling her he loves her, but noooo.

Will’s painting. I really feel like I don’t have to elaborate on this one. It just fucking sucked. They built it up like it was going to be some really important declaration of love from Will to Mike, only to have it be used to help further Mileven. Also the actual painting was ass, and all the fan theories about it were way better and more meaningful. (Like the idea we all had of the swingset where Mike and Will first met, or even just a painting of the two of them as their D&D characters, but SEPERATE from the rest of the group so it was actually obvious what the painting meant.)

The upside down thing with Henry?? I don’t even know what’s going on there. It was super confusing. Is the mind flayer actually Henry? Did El create the upside down or was it there before? Why did it look like that when Henry first got sent there, but looks like Hawkins now? I know they’ll likely answer these questions next season, but there’s just too many questions and knowing now how shit the duffers are at writing, I doubt they’ll all be answered satisfactorily.

The terrible character development. By that, I mean that there was none. Literally no characters had any development. They were all exactly the same as they were at the start of the season. El is still dependent on Mike/isn’t her own person. Mike is still a fucking asshole who treats his friends like shit. Will is still in the closet and hiding his true feelings from everyone around him. Nancy and Jonathan are still lying to each other. Steve is still pining after Nancy. Robin is still pining after Vickie. I could go on and on.

The Duffers hate minorities + poor people. Will and Robin, the two queer characters, don’t get well rounded love interests like all of the straight characters, and Will in particular is made to suffer constantly. Lucas and Erica, the two black characters, are both physically assaulted. Max and Eddie, the two poorest characters, who are living in a trailer park, fucking die. (from @hellfireds) Oh, also? The Duffers filmed parts of s4 in a fucking Nazi prison, where Jewish people were held against their wills and killed. (from @artmuseumsandoldbooks)

I’m going to keep updating this list as I think of more things that are wrong with vol 2. There’s already so many things I could add if I decided to include the shit wrong with vol 1 as well, but vol 2 was significantly worse so I’m just gonna stick to that. Feel free to suggest anything else I should add to the list

In conclusion, FUCK THE DUFFERS