#her handwriting is actually not very good she is very heavy handed at the end of a letter so ink blots BAD

[lk0727]

I'm crying because I love the idea of correspondence between the students leaving next year and I'd love to see more of it. The white day cards are so cute that I just want to elaborate (hc) on handwriting and maybe even writing quirks. Just Malleus (for now...)

Malleus would be really interested in how his partner writes, it's all so fascinating to him and he's a pattern noticer. The noticerrrr. And he sees so much that he even finds himself compiling all the repetitive actions you take when writing -not just what you're writing, and brings them to you to discuss further. The way you slant letters, when your pen lets up, if you type then the frequency of paragraph breaking, how you insert images, etc. I think it'd be something like "Did you know you tend to smudge the paper when you reach the furthest margin, are you perhaps left-handed? Oya, you are? I knew that to be the case." He says with a slight smile and downturned gaze because he knows he ate that. Sherlock Horns.

He would get overzealous about the fact that you're only a word away and would immediately call you with his archaic phone and pester you until you receive it. His Correspondence wouldn't actually be a surprise because you are usually visited by a heavy knock on your door and fae appropriate fanfare when it arrives, that's just etiquette when writing royalty. But, he always calls you the day he receives it so that you know he shall be returning post haste and he intends to dazzle you. In fact, you'll spend so long speaking to each other about what was written to him, that when you finally get his response, it's more or less just recapping what you spoke of two days prior. He can't hide his giddyness, even if he keeps a cool baritone while on the phone. Because you're a kind person, you pretend that his tail happily thumping against the ground is inaudible, because you know he can't help it.

He is going to surprise you by the emojis he uses because WHO taught you that!?!? He learned these from Cater and Lilia, but he doesn't change the way he speaks. It's "Good evening, How have you've been? The summer season of Briar Valley is particularly exhausting and hot💧, I am very bothered by the heat of it all.🥵🥵" and when Lilia intercepts it, he's like "that's a perfect sentence, go ahead and send it. Actually, one note, send more sweating emojis, it's really hot this summer, right?"

Your messages go through a diverse array of moderators and middle men. Those people being his Grandmother, who reminds him that he's a prince, Lilia and Silver (the two who initially opened the letter, and finally his transcriber and narrator, Sebek who scoffs at the quality of the smut you're peddling his young master, who shouldn't even be hearing this, but he'll read on against his better judgement. (It's literally benign, the furthest thing from smut, Malleus argues). His letters would look a little like this:

21.09.19XX Child, It's been nice knowing you.😌 Why do I say that? Since we've met, it seems as if Briar Valley has taken a lead in comedy and our collective temperament could not be more jovial. Your humorous description of your familiar, Grim child, was very well received by my Grandmother, as I was awoken early enough to the sounds of insects humming and birds chirping well into the night to read it aloud to me, guffawing as she spoke. (I apologize, I cannot stop her from opening my mail, but we're working on her problematic behavior, that's a fact.😉) She in particular has asked if she may keep it, you know how older individuals are with their chucklesome cat stories. 🙄 There's this understanding of the world that I just don't possess when it comes to what grabs the attention of the people's comedy, it continues to evade me. For instance, what is the humor of "surprise hot dog 🌭" and why must it be a surprise to be enjoyed? The children of Briar Valley seemingly shout this and end their sentences with it, and I am surprised and annoyed every time. It seems like you have an understanding in the matters of humor, so you are welcome to explain it to me. But I digress, If I sat down and listed to you all the things that escaped me, well, you might find yourself as old as I am by the time we've finished! 🤣The trees and wind must sense the happiness in our friendly union, and have planned accordingly to block out bad weather🌧️ and unforgiving spirits. The weather is nice enough that (forgive me I've overstretched my hand) planned your visit for sooner rather than later. Next time we meet in person, this shall be us ->🕺💃, as I've already made arrangements for a night in a cabaret club in the Capitol for us to partake in. It's a culture so far from the realm of possibility of establishing itself in our quiet little country, that I was astounded when I stumbled across its zoning request permits one day and I rushed to see it in person, paperwork be damned. The smaller fae who perform insist it to be a "cheeky, yet inoffensive showcase of the arts", and after witnessing it for myself, I knew it would be the type of entertainment you'd enjoy.🤫 Even now, it doesn't feel natural to write, like an odd mouth feel that doesn't change as I turn it over and over. A cabaret in Briar Valley, a music club in a quiet kingdom... it's as I've mentioned earlier, Briar Valley has surprisingly given itself wholly to the Joviality of life. Sincerely yours; Malleus Draconia, Heir to Briar Valley p.s Surprise hot dog 🌭

On the other hand, as confident as he is in your responses, he's always a little embarrassed to send something back. It's not fear of his ability, but rather, if you'll care to hear about the day to day of a crown prince who's routine is very boring and full of nothingburger drama. He doesn't understand that his 18 page assessment of his life is literally replacing the cable you can't afford, and when he describes the way the lion prince attacked him during a diplomatic meeting, the colorful language of his response makes you laugh, and then cry, and even gag because "how did he get close enough to gash you!?" You can see the face he's making as he writes this, pouty and angry and even chuckling when he describes the punishment that followed. Just like in his real life, Malleus has a hard time concealing his emotions. He's not shy about who he is as a person, and his writing is not either. The way it flows is a little different from traditional correspondence, if anything, he's sending you disjointed journal entries and prose while also clipping what you send him to respond directly. Your 2 page crapped out response filled with emojis and memes and inside jokes is returned in full by 20 pages of thoughtful dialogue, assessments of politics and fondness of your life, and even sketches of the things around him (okay... just gargoyles and Sebek, but those are things in all fairness.) He has a real zest that he doesn't try to contain, and even his handwriting gives it away. When he's in a good mood, it's very pristine, heavily slanted cursive that his heavy hand oppresses by not dotting his i's or crossing his t's. It's just understood between you two what he means. Likewise, when he's angry or melancholic it's surprisingly very light, almost inelligeble as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. He must be getting up and pacing, because of course he is. When upset or recounting something terrible, his handwriting is unusually neat, funnily enough the sentences are much shorter, as if he's hiding something or thinking long about what should be said next. He's a very wistful person, after all.

Malleus enjoys fine art that seeks to appease the senses and refine beauty, so attached to his letters will often be trinkets like necklaces, earrings, watches, and pocket squares that he found in shops in Briar Valley, or a ticket to a play or music shows that dazzled him. The heavier packages (these tend to come at random) are filled with small desserts, books on the anthropological history of different fae species, woven pieces from more aesthetically competent fae and their fashion, and of course, fragmented pieces of ancient gargoyles he found hiding in deserted rooms of the castle. <- He'll know if you've thrown it away, so hold on to the heavy, weird rock fragment, please.

[theemporium]

[1.5k] steve is on the hunt for the girl he’s fallen in love with via the love letters she’s been shoving into the scoops ahoy tip jar.

.

Steve Harrington was no stranger to love notes. 

In the height of King Steve’s reign—and even the years before that in school—he had lost count on the amount of notes he would find slipped into his locker, his notebooks or even passed to him in class. It was admiring, in some sense, but if he was being completely honest, they were nothing special to him. 

Not really. 

Then, things had changed and King Steve was no more, and even if Steve didn’t mourn the boy he was during the reign, he did sometimes miss the attention. He missed the way girls looked at him like he was actually worth something, like he wasn’t just some dude who peaked in high school and now worked daily shifts in an ice cream parlour wearing blue shorts and a stupid hat. 

Except, that was exactly what he was and there was no denying it. He couldn’t change it and, if he was being truthful to himself, he wouldn’t change it. Yeah, he missed it but he wouldn’t ever exchange what he had now—the people he had now—for any of that. 

Never in a million years.

Maybe that’s why the first note hit him so hard, because it was so damn unexpected and for a moment he felt like he was getting the best of both worlds. The mix between Old Steve and New Steve that he craved so badly.

looking good today, sailor boy, i really like what you did with your hair :) -a very happy customer

The note had been stuffed into the tip jar and he hadn’t noticed it until the closing shift, when he and Robin were splitting the profit and they noticed the squared paper tucked between notes and coins. He couldn’t help but grin a little as he read over the note again and again, tucking it into his pocket when Robin started to tease him. 

It didn’t even occur to him that it was a love note until he found another one in the tip jar a few days later. 

you’re funnier than people give you credit for, sailor boy. thank you for making me laugh -a very happy customer

By the third note, Steve had become addicted. At the end of each one of his shifts, he would grab the tip jar and make a beeline to the staff room where he would empty its contents and scour the pile on the table for a note with your familiar handwriting scrawled over a sheet of torn paper.

“No note today, lover boy?” Robin’s voice sounded from the doorway as she made her way into the room, watching as the frustration grew on Steve’s face as he rummaged through the coins and notes but found no new note. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

“You got one yesterday,” she pointed out like he wasn’t completely aware of that fact. “I think you’re getting greedy now instead of being grateful for what you have.”

“But it’s Wednesday,” he muttered with a hopeless sigh as he began his third search of the tip jar’s contents. “She always comes on a Wednesday.” 

“Yeah, but she came yesterday.” 

“But she always comes on Wednesday!”

Robin couldn’t hold back her snort. “God help us, you are a lost cause, doofus.” 

Maybe he was a lost cause, and maybe he was getting greedy but Steve couldn’t help himself. He kept every single one of the notes he received, tucked into a very messy pile in one of the cupholders in his car but it made him grin at the end of every shift when he got to shove another one in. 

And it wasn’t like he had tried to catch you in the act, because he did. He had tried multiple times, he had tried multiple tactics. Hell, he had even gotten Dustin involved to see if they could try to put a name—or at least a face—to the person leaving him the notes. 

you should smile more often, it makes you look prettier, sailor boy -a very happy customer 

p.s. I saw your little friend you hired to catch me, nice try :) 

“How did you not see her?” Steve exclaimed dramatically.

“How do you not see her every day?” Dustin retorted but it did nothing to stop as Steve let out a heavy sigh, hands on his hips with that same disappointed look on his face that made the younger boy squirm. 

“I don’t get how she keeps getting away,” he murmured, although it was almost like he was thinking out loud. 

“What’s the big deal anyways?” Dustin asked, watching his older friend with curious eyes. “It’s just some girl. Surely, you can get any other girl you want.” 

“But I want her,” Steve whined like a young child not getting what they wanted.

Dustin frowned. “Why?” 

Steve gave him a helpless shrug before he spoke. “I don’t know, she just–” he paused for a moment before he continued. “She’s different. She sees me differently.” 

you’re a lot smarter than you think, sailor boy, it’s honestly kinda hot -a very happy customer

“She sees you differently?” Dustin repeated incredulously, his nose scrunched up.

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a dumb grin on his face as he nodded. “She does.”

“God, Robin was right, you are a lost cause.” 

So, of course by dumb sheer luck, the one day Steve wasn’t actively attempting to find a way to catch your identity just happened to be the same day he found out who you were. 

It was a somewhat slow day at the parlour, the mall not quite buzzing as it usually was but that was bound to happen with the Fourth of July fair starting up earlier this week in set up for the big day that same weekend. Most kids were dragging the parents out towards town instead of the mall, and the slow day meant Steve was stuck doing general restocking, shipment deliveries and admin stuff that usually didn’t suck all that bad when he had Robin. 

Except Robin had bailed out on her early morning start so she could catch an extra few hours of sleep, which left Steve alone in the shop to deal with everything. 

He was meant to be in the back to sign for the delivery that would be arriving any moment now, but realised that he had left his staff ID by the cash register at the front. It was a Tuesday, and Bobby was always delivering on a Tuesday. The dude was a stickler for staff IDs and proof for reasons that were beyond Steve’s knowledge, but it was a pain in the ass and a hassle he would rather not deal with. 

He was just about to push the door towards the main shop when he paused, the door opened a crack so he could look out into the shop and that’s when he saw you. 

Now, Steve had seen plenty of pretty girls in his lifetime but none of them seemed as gorgeous as you did. You were so pretty that Steve didn’t want to look away, not just yet. But the piece of paper you were shoving into the tip jar had quickly drawn his attention and the boy was left gobsmacked and frozen in place as he watched you scurry off, like you were just another shopper in the mall minding your own business. 

He knew who you were now. 

And god, if that didn’t make his heart feel like it was going to beat out of his chest, then he didn’t know what would.

Steve had mulled over it for a few days, trying to work out what to do with the information he had been seeking since he first received the love letters. A part of him contemplated just confronting you when he next saw you in the shop, but that felt a bit aggressive. He also contemplated flirting with you the next time you came in, but he knew he would take one look into those pretty eyes and would be left speechless—only embarrassing himself and ruining any chance he had with you. 

Then, acting out on a whim and complete spontaneity, the perfect opportunity arose when he saw you walk into the parlour on Friday afternoon, dressed in a cute sundress and sandals with sunglasses pushing your hair out of your face. 

It took Steve a solid thirty seconds before he could even process anything around him. 

It was the most difficult thing he had ever done, acting completely normal to you like you were just another customer, like he didn’t know you were the damn author behind the love letters he had grown to cherish. 

But it was worth it when he hid in the back, peeking through the small crack of the door as he watched you frown a little at the napkin wrapped around your cone, slowly opening the tissue to see writing sprawled on the note. To see the blush grown on your cheeks and your smile widen to look all pretty and giddy. 

what are the chances a sailor boy like me can take a pretty customer to the movies this weekend? I’ll even wear the hat if you like it that much -sailor boy

Yeah, you were definitely worth it. And now that Steve had found you, he didn’t want to let you go.

.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Notice Me (Kaeya, Ayato, Tartaglia)

The alternative title to this is “Notice Me, Senpai”, in which three of our favorite little shits try and get your attention. I may do another one for twisted wonderland, Maybe.

Reader is part of the adventurer’s guild.

Genre: Fluff

Fem!Reader, very few third person pronouns used

Asks and Requests are OPEN

Kaeya

Let’s be honest, he has his work cut out for him

His first tactic is to lay the flirting on heavy. Which doesn’t work very well. You just think he’s being extra obnoxious or trying to get you to do some of the tedious jobs for him and so, you just ignore it

Cue several days of drinking with Rosaria while he wonders what he’s doing wrong. Eventually she smacks him over the head with the obvious and he gets down to thinking about how to win your attention and maybe score a date in the process

It takes him awhile. He never thought he’d actually be dating someone. His secrets make it less than feasible, but you’re a special case. And special cases take special effort

He ends up going to Lisa for advice. Of everyone in Mondstadt, he figured she’d be the best help. She ropes him into enabling her laziness for a few weeks only to hit him with some super simple advice, “quit hinting and say it to her face, you idiot. Flowers are good too”

He doesn’t show it, but in his mind he makes a funny face. Directness? Upfrontness? Honesty? Kaeya? I love him, but he’s a roundabout kind of person. Never the less, he really, really wants to to notice him, so he listens. 

He gets Flora to for up a rather large bouquet of flowers (he may have looked up flower symbolism just to make sure he gets the point across) before having Katheryn direct you to his office for a “specially requested commission”

When you get there he presents you with the bouquet and a well-rehearsed confession that he still manages to stumble over

He’s the happiest knight ever when you agree to go on a date with him

Ayato

He goes the secret admirer route, at least to start with

Sweet letters, flowers, he’s rich and he uses it to his advantage lol

When he has the time, he’s always offering to help you with your commissions in one way or another or just as often having Katheryn giving you special commissions that involve helping Thoma and thus reporting back to him

You get teased a lot about your secret admirer, Everyone in the guild has their own theories. One of the most popular ones is that it’s Thoma trying to court you from a far

Anyone Ayato falls for is bound to be intelligent, so you’re quick to dismiss that idea. Instead, you’re pretty sure it’s his boss that’s behind it all. The flowers are too nice and the paper too expensive. The beautiful handwriting doesn’t match Thoma’-- you know full well that Kamisato Ayato enjoys calligraphy, not to mention the sheer number of times you’ve stood in his office recently. It wasn’t the hardest connection to make.

 After you took a peak at the paper on his desk, unsurprised to find that the penmanship matched perfectly--almost perfectly, he seems to have put extra effort into the letters he sends you--you spent some time thinking about what to do about this information

In the end you decide to let things continue as they have been

You’re familiar enough with him to know that he has a sense of mischief and enjoys having the upper hand. Letting him continue to think that he has it, while starting to think of how you’re going to use the information seems like a fun idea

He doesn’t know it, but you turn it into a game. One where you have the advantage

After several weeks of basking in the attention--and knowing he doesn't know you know--you request to see Ayaka, who you’ve also come to know fairly well

At your behest, Ayaka starts to leave flowers on Ayato’s desk. One here, one there. These are of a far lesser quality than the ones he sends but so sue you, you’re not a pretty rich boy, thank you very much

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on. That kind of subtle affection and communication isn’t Ayaka’s style, Thoma keeps a very professional relationship (and is directly involved in helping Ayato woo you), and no one else would dare do something like that. Seriously. 

At that point, he decides to end the game

Like Kaeya, he choses a private sort of place, only he has class about it

He sends you another anonymous letter, inviting you to the estate at midnight on a full moon. (Moonlight rendezvous? Super romantic, definitely private, totally awesome)

Of course, knowing the game that is being played, you’re happy to go

When you meet him you don’t even bother acting surprised (though the full dinner, candles and all, wasn’t totally expected). Instead you happily sit and eat with him, dropping the formality that you usually use when dealing with him

It’s the first of many games between you, this time the result is certainly a win for both of you

Tartaglia

uhhhh

I think he takes a three pronged attack method when it comes to catching your attention

The first is some fairly subtle flirting. Just because his preferred method of diplomacy involves fighting to the death, doesn’t mean he can’t smooth talk when he feels like it

And he feels like it. He thinks you’re pretty and likes to make sure you know it. It’s a huge confidence boost for you

It definitely makes you suspicious because unlike a certain Mondstadt cryo user, hard-core flirting is not his default. 

Second, instead of offering deadly bouts of violence he decides to train you up. You’re not the most proficient swordsman, specializing in less violent commissions (Baizhu bubu pharmacy loves you very much)

“I want her to be my girl and I want to make sure she can protect herself”

Also, it gives him a valid excuse to touch you without being pervy. Any other time, he keeps his hands to himself, but when training you, if he has to adjust an arm or shift your form, well, that’s just part of training (uh huh, sure.)

His third method of catching your attention is showing off his martial skills

He loves showing you how strong he his, how fast he is, and how many different weapons he can use

Honestly, he’s so obvious about all of it that it only takes you a couple months to catch on and confront him about it

He doesn’t bother denying it and instead takes the initiative to ask you out

It turns out you liked the flirting, the little touches, and found his showing off to be amusing, so you happily accepted

[stevethehairington]

so, i saw the tweet below (obviously creds to @/kvrtzwcrld, your brain is huge for this!!) yesterday night

and i have not stopped thinking about it since, so, naturally, i took to the keyboard about it:

at first, the letters come from steve — as in, it is steve that is the one who hands them over to max. it’s summer, so there’s no school, and max is still in physical therapy. some of her sessions (most of them, really) conflict with her mom’s work schedule, susan having to leave for her shifts at just about the same time max has to leave for her appointments. naturally, steve offers to help out by giving max a ride to her sessions when susan can’t.

max knows that sometimes, steve will chat with her mom if susan has a few minutes to spare before she has to run and max is taking a little bit longer than usual to finish getting ready and come out.

so when max slides into the passenger seat and steve holds out a card for her to take, telling her “oh, by the way, your mom wanted me to give this to you. she had to leave before you came out so she couldn’t give it to you herself.” she probably does think it’s genuinely from her mom at first.

only, then she opens it and that is not her mother’s handwriting. she’s kind of disappointed by that, just a little, and she probably wouldn’t admit that, but she’s also used to it, so the sting doesn’t last for very long. not to mention, her curiosity to see what it actually says is too great.

she reads through the letter, and almost immediately she thinks that it’s steve who wrote it for her.

she doesn’t say anything to him about it at first. just holds onto the letter, tells him “oh, that was nice of my mom”, and lets him think that he got away with it.

and after that, it keeps happening. the letters keep coming. every time she gets into the car with steve, he has a new one to give her. max never actually sees her mom hand off any of these letters to steve, either, so she’s fully convinced it’s him. not to mention, all of the “you’re going to have a great day”s and the “you can do it”s and the other, various, generally peppy remarks just totally scream steve.

she wants to know for sure though. so she comes up with a plan.

one day she gets ready for her session super early, like at least half an hour before steve’s set to show up. she hides out in her room, so her mom doesn’t know, and she waits there until she hears steve’s car roll up. her mom calls her name and tells her steve is here. max calls back that she’s almost ready, she’ll be out in a minute. she listens for her mom after that, and when she doesn’t hear her, max thinks she went outside to talk to steve.

max sneaks out of her bedroom as quietly as possible and tiptoes over to the window. she crouches down low and peeks out from behind the corner of the curtain. and there steve’s beemer sits, in the patch of dirt they jokingly call their “driveway”, but it isn’t max’s mother who is leaning up against his car.

it’s eddie munson.

(eddie munson, who max never really gave a second thought before spring of ’86. eddie munson who was just “that munson boy, always up to no good”.

until he wasn’t.

until suddenly they’re on the same team. until they’re working together to save each other’s lives. until they end up three hospital rooms down from each other, broken, bruised, busted, bitten.

but on the mend. recovering.

and then it’s neither one of them being able to sleep, too afraid of the nightmares that plague their minds, the horrors that are burned into the backs of their eyelids, there every time they close their eyes. they find solace in each other, sitting together at the rickety old picnic table between their trailers. talking about skateboarding and dnd. about heavy metal and kate bush. about anything that isn’t gates and monsters and hiveminds and hellscapes.

(but they do talk about that, too, sometimes. when some nights are bad and some nights are worse and the only way to make it better is to face it head on. but they help each other feel safe. they help each other feel understood.)

they chase each other’s ghosts away. they remind each other that they are not alone.

it’s an unlikely friendship, not something max ever could have seen coming. but eddie is good. eddie is great. he doesn’t treat her like a kid, doesn’t handle her with care, like she’s something fragile and delicate that could break from one strong gust of wind. he’s one of the only ones who looks at her and just sees max.

he does take care of her, but she takes care of him too. it’s — he’s family. the brother she never had. the brother she always wanted.)

eddie’s got one arm resting against the window of steve’s car where it’s rolled down, and he and steve are talking. laughing. smiling together. steve says something then, and eddie straightens up and fishes for something in his jacket pocket.

and then, right there in plain sight, max watches eddie pull out a small little envelope and hand it over to steve. he says something to steve and points at the envelope in his hand, expression firm. then he spares a quick look towards max’s trailer, and max ducks down quick so she isn’t caught out.

after a second, two, three, she chances a glance out the window again. she watches as eddie taps his palm against the frame of steve’s window, letting it linger for a moment before he lifts his hand up and off and into a wave instead. then he turns on his heel and heads back to his trailer. he looks back twice.

max waits a minute, so it isn’t obvious that she was waiting by the door, then she grabs her bag and heads outside. when she slides into the passenger seat, steve holds out a card — the very same one she just saw eddie give him.

when max opens it, it’s exactly what she expected — the same handwriting, the same spiffy, upbeat encouragements, the same lopsided little smiley face at the top.

it’s signed love you, mom xx at the bottom, just the way it always is.

but max knows now.

when fall rolls around and school starts back up, eddie takes over steve’s job as max’s chauffeur. he and max are going to the same place, after all.

(eddie had been disappointed when they hadn’t simply waved away the last of those finals he missed and granted him his diploma anyways. they’d been strict about the rules. no exceptions. they did, however, offer him an alternative arrangement. rather than redoing his entire senior year again, they came up with an arrangement in which he only had to cover the content from the last few weeks he’d missed and sit for the final exams, and then, assuming things went well, he’d be walking out of hawkins high with his diploma firmly in hand. they even told him he’d be able to walk with the graduating class of ’87 if he wanted.)

now that it’s eddie carting her around, max fully expects the cards to stop. there’s no steve for eddie to hide behind anymore, and max thinks that even though he’s under the impression that she’s none the wiser, he might feel too exposed nonetheless.

but they don’t stop.

every morning, like clockwork, max hops into the front seat of eddie’s van, and eddie hands her a card, tells her, “from your mom.” (he even tries to tug on the end of one of her braids once after he hands it over, and max, who’d had a very bad night and is feeling far too sentimental over a god damn card, lets him.)

it comes to a head, as most things do, in the wheeler basement.

despite max’s steadfast refusal to join in on their silly little game, she still tags along to the party’s hellfire meetings. she likes hanging out in the basement with el, and with robin and nancy and steve if they’re there too. she’d never ever tell them, but she also likes hanging out with the boys too. likes watching them get so into their game that they almost knock over their goofy chalices of mountain dew. likes listening to them all shout over one another when they’re trying to make a decision on what their party’s next move should be. they’re her friends. her people. and, call her a softie, but she just likes being around them. all of them.

it's the end of their latest session, and eddie’s just finished cleaning up — gathering up all his little figurines, carefully stowing away all of his campaign notes, helping steve pile up the empty cans of dew and grease stained pizza plates for the garbage.

“hey, red,” eddie calls, catching max’s attention. he pulls the trash bag from steve’s hands, ignoring his protests, and hoists it up, giving it a shake. the crushed cans clink together inside. “be a doll and take this out, will ya?”

steve tries to take it back from eddie, to tell him he can do it himself, it’s fine, max doesn’t need to help. but max likes helping. she likes doing dumb, annoying, mundane things like taking out the trash. she appreciates steve’s concern, knows he means well, that he’s just trying to make it easy for her since she’s still recovering (even half a year later), but she can do it. she wants to do it.

so she clambers to her feet and crosses the room to take the trash bag from eddie.

“sure thing, mom,” she says, looking right at eddie, and it sort of just slips out. the nickname. mom. she’s never called him that before. no one has.

eddie’s eyebrows fly up.

the rest of the party erupts into confusion because why are you calling eddie mom? that’s steve’s nickname, remember?

and, well, maybe that’s true. but steve’s not the one pretending to write max letters from her mom. steve’s not the one scribbling down the words of encouragement that max never knew she needed to hear so badly. steve’s not the one signing the cards love you, mom xx.

eddie is.

max meets eddie’s eyes, turns her look pointed.

she can see the second it clicks in eddie’s brain. she knows. his easy, relaxed stature tenses. his eyes swim with worry — like he’s nervous, unsure. like he doesn’t know how max is going to react to this. like he thinks maybe she’ll be pissed at him.

but she’s not. she’s not at all. those letters — they mean more to max than she could ever express.

max can’t put it into words — wouldn’t want to in front of all of these people, anyways — so she just lets her mouth curve up. gives him one of her rare smiles.

she watches the tension drain from his shoulders, watches as his own lips twitch up, a slow blossom into something sunny and warm. something just for her. he gives her a nod. then says, “thanks, kid.”

max nods back.

and that’s that.

even though the kids keep calling steve mom, from that moment on, max saves that one for eddie.

it never does get explained to the rest of the party, but that’s okay. they laugh about it in their letters.

because, oh yeah, those still keep coming.

and max sends her own back, too.

love you, mom xx

love you, max xx

[mihrsuri]

For this to make sense read this gorgeous fic by @nocompromise-noregrets and also have knowledge of my OT3 verse. This is an in universe fandom post (on a tumblr that it is like, Good Website But Also Still Hell Site)

So I went to the panel discussion at Welles Hall (with a friend which was life changing levels of great) and I wanted to write a book report for the tumblr.

Natalie is actually Aphrodite. Like, I was speechless. I do not know how us mere mortals can gaze at such beauty and anyway, I was the most useless of lesbians.

I’m not personally into men romantically or sexually but like, aesthetically James and Jon and Rupert are very appealing. Like a sunset or a piece of art. Also very charming, A+

Ahmed is a sweetheart and very funny.

The questions/answers were all great but uh, some highlights:

Ahmed really talked about how much he admired the work Rupert did in particular - that he really sat down with the primary sources and asked great insightful questions (quote “I think in some ways actors have a similar drive to historians - to understand people, even repellant ones”)

“People ask me if I have any sympathy for him [Norwich] and the answer is no! I loathe him - the historical study is fascinating and important but I have never liked him”

Rupert said it was hard to be in [Norwich’s] head - that he ended up developing a ritual for getting in and out of character to separate himself - he really gave credit to the shows intimacy coordinator for the workshopping before anyone was on set.

(Aside we learned that Rupert was cast really early on - apparently they didn’t want anyone else because he’s quote ‘handsome and charming and a brilliant performer and that’s what we needed’)

Maya said there were times she had to stop herself from quote ‘making excited squeaking noises’ on set (world renowned historians - they are in fact just like us) and that her favourite set was the Arthurian Masque plus “one I can’t talk about yet” *eyes emoji*

Maya “I went into the process of revising it (The Tudor Triad: New Edition) with delight and sadness” she talked about how she loved being back with these three but also the heaviness of it - how she wrestled with how much to include.

Ahmed interjected and said that it was one thing he really struggled with as well - that only having Norwich’s voice, Noriwch’s details on the abuse was something particularly sickening and that’s in large part why it was so incredible to see James’ performance.

(“I think, I hope that somewhere in the afterlife Thomas Cromwell is glad to see that he is given his story back to him”)

Both James and Rupert really talked about how the townhouse visit was the most confronting part - that Norwich’s journals are awful and chilling but somehow being in the space where it happened, that made it all the more real, especially because by this point they’d both been in their characters heads for a while.

“It was horrible - i actually don’t like to talk about it in detail honestly”

They both talked about how great Ellie at Welles Hall was - that she and Ahmed and Maya really talked them through the diary/papers and the decoding. (“All props to Rupert and James - not only is the content not an easy read, reading/interpreting Tudor handwriting is a process and reading Tudor handwriting in a mix of languages is even worse”)

Natalie “my guiding sense was that Anne would rip him [Norwich] apart with her bare hands and dance on the remains - I just found that through playing her, reading her own words even if it’s never referred to directly”

Jon was very sure he wanted to have what Henry says to Norwich remain a mystery (though Rupert knows!) and he didn’t want the audience to see Henry’s face when it was sad - Rupert said that it was ‘incredibly bloody satisfying’ to play the moment when Norwich realises that he has ‘fucked around and found out’

Rupert said he thought that Norwich absolutely believed in his own mythology - that essentially, might makes right, that he was a great Roman General etc. (Which apparently Ahmed is currently working on an academic article about Norwich and Ancient Rome)

I’ll be back for part II: the Lionel Discussion Panel later.

-semperlyqueerly

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

To Make a Heaven of Hell (8/?)

----

Virgil is tasked to go collect more coffee than he can carry alone, thankfully someone comes to save him.

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Chapter warnings: None (please lmk if I'm missing something)

Notes: *rubbing my hands together like an evil genius* guess who's hereeeeeeeeeeee-

Anyway uh- sorry this took like three months? I genuinely don't know what happened - I was very busy over Christmas and then uni deadlines caught up on me - and I've been working on so many things that I'm just screaming into the void at this point. I'm glad I could finish this chapter, though!!! I love this fic so much!

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Whatever scheme Janus and the others had gotten up to had been almost pushed out of his mind by the time it actually came to involve him. 

Almost, because he hadn’t quite been able to stop thinking about the ‘yet’ surrounding his own involvement in the plan whenever he’d had a free second. But they’d spent enough time talking back to assholes at the Hellp desk - and at a good few hours of therapy sessions with Emile that had been mostly productive - to mostly put it out of their mind. For the most part. 

Once a week had passed since Janus and Angel had headed into Hell giggling about who knows what, Virgil started wondering if he really would be involved in this plan at all. 

—-

Barely even the day after Virgil had thought that, he was introduced to the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. 

Well, introduced is a strong word. 

He noticed the guy across the lobby - stood in the entrance to the tunnel that leads down to the residential levels of Hell. Remus was with him, it looked like he was trying to coax the pretty stranger to come further into the lobby, but when Virgil met his eyes - deep pools of molten gold that almost seemed to glow and make Virgil feel like his bones were melting but somehow in a good way? - the stranger ran. Well - good to know he was apparently scary to the pretty demon. What a great confidence boost. Virgil sighed - just as Remus seemed to across the hall - and Lily gently patted his shoulder in consolidation.

“He’s shy,” She said by way of explanation, Virgil just sighed again.

—-

“Oh Virgil!” Angel practically sang from the other end of the desk a few days later, “Can you do the coffee run alone today? Ruggy’s having a bit of a crisis over here-”

Ruggy rolled her eyes - Virgil wasn’t sure she was actually having a crisis, but it wasn’t their place to judge. 

“Sure, uh - can everyone write down their orders? I probably won't remember them alone.” Virgil said, standing up, Angel giggled and handed him a piece of paper that already had all the orders written down on it in multiple different handwritings, he frowned, okay - so they had planned this. What was going on? 

“You’re all grown up now,” Lily chuckled, probably misinterpreting his frown, “You’ve got this!”

“...Grown up?” Virgil looked at her confused, as far as he was aware, he hadn’t changed since he got here.

“Wait, did you not know?” Angel gasped, standing up again.

“Virgie you’re like two inches taller than you were before,” Sharkie pointed out, glaring at him - for growing? Which he’d apparently done at some point without his own notice - but didn’t Lily say…

“You’re settling in, kid!” Bel told him, ruffling his hair with a heavy hand that made Vrgil laugh and shove him away…. Maybe those therapy sessions were helping more than they thought? “Now go get that coffee!”

—-

The coffee shop wasn’t busy when Virgil went in, which they thanked the universe for as they nervously handed over the list of eleven wildly different coffee orders, not even realising there was an extra one - and then asked for his own too. He thought belatedly that he wasn’t sure how he would carry them all back to the desk. 

He stared blankly at the three cup holders full of various drinks and two paper bags of snacks that the barista put on the counter. He once again thanks the universe that the coffee shop is fairly empty as the barista looks at him sympathetically.

“Could no-one else on the desk come down today?” She asked, “If I wasn’t halfway through my shift I’d offer to help you take them down myself…”

“That’s okay,” Virgil waved her off, moving everything to the side so that if someone else wanted to order, they could, before sighing and putting a hand on his hip, trying to figure this out.

“Hey cutie, need some help there?” Someone asked from behind him with a voice smooth as butter in a tone that had Virgil blushing - even more so at the nickname. He turned and found himself face to face - more like face to chest, whatever did this guy get from being so tall? With the extremely pretty demon who he’d seen across the lobby in Hell just a few days earlier.

“Ha-h-hi?” Virgil stammered, feeling his train of thought screech to a halt as he looked up at the demon’s face. His sparkling golden eyes seemed to look straight through Virgil’s pale foundation to his hot blushing face - almost as red as the demon’s skin. From this close he could see bright golden freckles littering his skin like tiny stars, and Virgil could see a lot of his skin too - he wore just as little clothing as Remus did. His heart-tipped tail thrashed behind him - in a way Virgil thought seemed almost nervous, but that couldn’t be right. Smiling, the stranger picked up two of the three cup holders after putting one of the bags of pastries and cakes into the satchel he carried around his waist, an action which totally didn’t draw his eyes to somewhere where they were not supposed to be drawn - he thought he might combust with how much he was blushing as he forced himself to meet the stranger’s eyes again. 

“I see I’ve rendered you speechless,” he said, grinning to show pointed fangs - unlike Remus’ full mouth of shark-like sharp teeth, but still dangerous looking in a way that didn’t scare him, “My apologies, but I simply couldn’t leave a cutie like you to struggle after I saw you in distress.”

“I- wha- you-” Virgil stumbled to start too many sentences at once, not sure what he was even trying to say. The demon chuckled, putting his hand on his hip.

“Like what you see, sweetie?” He asked, tilting his head just a little. Virgil choked and covered his face, equal parts embarrassed and flustered by the callout.

“‘M sorry,” Virgil mumbled, trying to get his words back as his face attempted to cool down a little - but a look up to see the demon was still smiling at him just brought it back tenfold.

“What are you sorry for?” There was a hint of genuine confusion in the demon’s voice despite his smile, he tilted his head.

“I was- I was staring? That’s- rude?” Virgil said, now also confused - wasn’t he offended by Virgil blatantly looking at him?

“I’m an incubus, darling, I’m used to it,” he reassured, ruffling Virgil’s hair - someone needs to explain why that feels nice because it did even though Virgil ducked and tried to bat his hand away with a squawk of surprise that made the demon laugh, “As long as you aren’t scared of me - and hey, I was flirting with you, I dug my own grave just a little, what’s your name cutie? My brother just calls you ‘emo’.”

“Wait- you’re Remus’ brother?” Virgil perked up to ask, before immediately getting flustered again as a grin split across his face.

“That’s me,” he grinned, putting down the cup holders and offering his hand for a handshake - his claw-like nails were red but tipped with gold like he’d dipped them in glittering paint, “My name’s Roman.”

“I- ah - I’m uh- Virgil…” Virgil mumbled awkwardly, tentatively taking Roman’s hand to shake only to have their hand grasped tightly and shaken with enthusiasm. Roman’s hand was so warm. 

“Virgil? What a lovely name you have,” Roman said, bringing Virgil’s hand - which he was still holding - up to his lips to kiss, making Virgil blush a brilliant crimson, “You look like a sunrise, darling.”

Virgil could only cough and bow their head as Roman continued, “Pretty pink cheeks and lovely purple hair, hm, oh and your eyes are such a lovely blue, like the early morning sky, how perfect.”

“Oh- shut up,” Virgil mumbled, covering their face with his other hand - the one Roman wasn’t still holding, “Are you gonna help me carry coffee or not?”

Bursting out into boisterous laughter, Roman let go of his hand and picked everything back up. Virgil quickly took the others and thanked the barista - who winked knowingly at him for some reason - and began leading the way back down towards Hell. Many people stopped to stare as they walked, most of them at Roman, who’s tail had wrapped itself around his leg almost as soon as they’d stepped out of the coffee shop. Virgil couldn’t help but notice through quick sneaky glances that Roman didn’t seem half as confident out here in the universal hallway as he had been back in the coffee shop. Virgil debated asking why for a moment, deciding not to pray until they neared the gates of hell and Roman started to hide behind them. 

“Hey Roman?” Virgil said, glancing back at him, the demon perked up - as if Virgil’s attention alone had made him feel better, “Are uh- are you good? I mean- are you okay? You look more nervous than me …”

“Hm? What? No - I’m fine, totally fine,” Roman waved him off with a smile that was much faker than the ones he’d given in the coffee shop, “Why would I not be okay?”

Raising an eyebrow, Virgil looks him over, Roman’s smile slowly drops into an apprehensive expression, “Your tail is wrapped around your leg, your hands are shaking, you’re fidgeting with your claws, you’re trying to hide behind me…”

“Okay okay,” Roman put his hands up, seeming embarrassed, “I’m- I don’t really like being in the lobby of Hell, that’s all.”

Virgil tilted his head, “What - do you know what the problem itself is? Maybe I can help?” He understood anxiety pretty well after all, he hoped he could help.

“Oh it’s really nothing - it’s just - the way some of the souls look at me? It just bothers me, sometimes.”

Virgil frowns, “But- you said that me looking at you didn’t bother you?” they asked, suddenly worried he had actually upset Roman even though he’d said he wasn’t - but Roman shook his head quickly.

“It’s not the same kind of looking,” Roman said, before hiding his face with a hand when one lady from the main like glared at them, Virgil found himself giving her a fierce look in response - what had driven such protectiveness he would probably never know - but now he understood, at least a little. 

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, that was an issue Virgil was very familiar with - and he could imagine Roman got it a lot worse, considering the way he dressed and the kind of people they got at the desk. He hummed, “Hold on a second - I can- it might help…”

It was a balancing act as Virgil shrugged off his jacket without spilling or dropping anything, Roman watched in surprise as Virgil offered the jacket to him, “It’s uh- it always helps me, when I’m anxious, and it stops people from looking too hard.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Roman shifted the things he was holding and reached out to take the jacket. Where it was far too big on Virgil, it actually fit Roman a lot better, he even pulled the hood up as far as he could with his horns and covered his hands with the sleeves and gave Virgil a small smile.

“Thank you,” Roman said, Virgil noticed his tail slowly uncurling from around his leg to sway side-to-side as it had been back in the coffee shop, “This is- your jacket is very cozy.”

Virgil smiled, “Yeah? I’m glad,” it was strange - it had almost become a habit to let people borrow his jacket when they were more anxious than him - it seemed he was able to be more confident when someone else was less. Even without his jacket, in a sleeveless plum coloured turtleneck, he found he was able to keep his head held high as he led Roman back to the Hellp desk.

“Hey Emo!” Remus yelled as he approached, “Hey RoRo! I almost didn’t recognise you, nice hoodie.”

Virgil could’ve sworn Roman’s face got redder when he quietly pointed out that the jacket was Virgil’s.

----

General tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

Hell's Belles AU tags: @awitchbravestheverge @twoalpacas @goldnskyart @anxious-mess19 @doteddestroyer @yourchemicallyimbalancedromance :)

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[eddiescorrodedcoffin86]

Dad!Eddie Munson Headcanons

Eddie Munson Masterlist

He’s definitely one of those heavy metal dads that would insist you name, at the least, your first child after a rockstar.

“We’ll name the kid after James Hetfield.” “What if it’s a girl?” “Then we’ll name her Jamie. Duh.”

He’s also one of those dads that would pay very close attention to what way his child steered the tiny steering wheel on the car shaped shopping carts at the grocery store and would turn the cart whatever way they turned the wheel.

“This kid needs some driving lessons, babe.” “Eddie he/she is four.” “Yeah, so?” “Oh my god.”

Would definitely insist that your house be full of instruments for your kids to learn as they grow up.

By the time your first kid is 11 you have just about every instrument in the world in the study that Eddie had insisted be the music room.

Would definitely be the type of dad to get his kid's names/initials/birthday/favorite toys tattooed on any part of his body. He waits to get their names until they learn how to write them, and then gets their signatures tattooed on him, no matter how sloppy the handwriting.

He'd come home with the biggest, goofiest grin with plastic wrap and ointment protecting irritated skin, your kid's smile would match his as he had them read the new tattoo, having trouble since it was through the wrap and the ointment.

"DADA! THAT'S ME!" They would shriek, jumping up and down and throwing themself at him, which would encourage the others to follow, all of them ending up in a dog pile on top of their father.

If your kids like to draw, he'd sit with them for hours, hunched over on the floor and doodling with crayons. When your youngest drew a picture of your family, he'd nearly fell on top of your eldest as he ran to the door, picture clutched in hand as he tugged his jacket and vest combo on, sprinting to the van with a shout of "I'll be back soon" over his shoulder.

He'd come back not too long later, the drawing now tattooed into the skin of the shoulder he'd yelled over, tugging his shirt off as he walked in the door to show his beautiful family the purposefully sloppy drawing.

You'd teared up as you compared the tattoo to the drawing, an absolutely perfect recreation, color included, accompanying the black and other splashes of color that littered his skin, at this point he was almost completely covered.

Explaining his scars was easier over time, though the first couple times you'd had to explain it yourself, Eddie eventually decided, when your middle child of five asked, that he could tell the story, and he told an intricate but simple enough story that the kids would understand each time, dumbing it down a bit depending on how old they were when they noticed and asked.

"I was protecting Mommy and Uncle Dusty." He'd boasted when your youngest asked, your four others sitting close to listen to the tale they loved so much. "We were just out in the woods." A lie, of course, but you'd decided to wait way longer before telling them the truth about your hometown, you'd moved after Eddie graduated, settling down in Chicago since it had a good music scene and Eddie wanted to pursue that.

"And we passed by this cave, and all of a sudden..." Eddie was a great story teller, always had been, during suspenseful moments he would hunch his shoulders and lean in, urging your children to do the same, and you recognized that sadistic smirk spread across his face. "WHOOSH!" He held your youngest and shook them lightly, causing them to squeal and laugh, your others jumping and laughing with him/her at their father's outburst.

"A hundred bats came flying out of the cave! And I, being a gentleman-" "What's a genital man?" "You can say genital man but not spaghetti?" Eddie looked at your youngest in actual awe before looking at you. "What have you been teaching our children?" "They are literally with you all day, Eddie. Finish your story."

"A gentleman," he emphasized the word. "Is.. uh... I'll explain it later." "Mhm." "Shh." He waved his hand at you and continued his story. "I pushed Mommy out of the way, and I made Uncle Dustin get her away, and I tried to fight them off." "When he could've just run with us." Eddie gave you a stern look before continuing. "And... they got the best of me, and knocked me down, took a few nasty chunks before Mommy and Uncle Dusty came back and fought them off."

Would never be late for pick up, whether it be daycare, soccer practice, cheerleading practice. Whatever your kids are doing, Eddie is there for support, and early to pick them up if he can't be there the whole time.

He'd be the type of dad to wake up and see your kids trying to collectively hoist their youngest sibling up to the fridge to grab the cookie jar and would end up getting the cookies for them and taking one. "What do you think you're doing?" "Uh... Axl wanted a cookie." "Don't blame me!" "Well I didn't whisper 'who wants a cookie?' while the rest of us were trying to sleep" "Well it wasn't me either!"

"Okay. Okay. You're all very bad at whispering, put down your brother/sister." They would begrudgingly do so, perking up when he brought the cookie jar down and gave them each two, holding a finger to his lips before putting one between his teeth, putting the jar back. "Now go to bed." "Thanks, dad." "thank you, dad." "thanks, daddy." "ank you, dada." "tank ou, daddy."

Be still his beating heart. He'd go back to bed, and you'd wake up to the movement. "Is that a cookie?" "Yeah. Want some?" "mmm thank you." You take a bite of the cookie before laying your head down. "Did I hear the kids trying to sneak cookies?"

A few solid beats of silence accompanied by Eddie chewing the cookie. "..... no."

[skylarsblue]

Slasher Signature Headcanons (PT.2)

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba’s...okay their handwriting is virtually unreadable. The example below is their absolute best. They also often misspell their own name, having to ask his brothers for help. He’s never needed to sign anything before! But the flowers are a nice touch.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas knows how to read & write. He just doesn’t like to, pens feel awkward in his hand. The difference between him & Bubba is that he went to school, so he actually can write. His signature is still very messy but he tries his best to keep the letters on the line as much as possible. He can’t write on pages without lines, his sentences will slant and get messy, which frustrates him. He doesn’t write often but he does journal every now & then! He misspells things a lot though.

Billy Lenz

Billy’s handwriting is erratic, just like he is. He doesn’t use capitalized letters, not for any particular reason, it just doesn’t. While it’s handwriting can sometimes be perfectly readable, his random muscle spams sometimes cause a complete mess of a letter. He doesn’t write very much anyway. 

Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson

Danny’s always had pretty good penmanship. He’s a journalist after all! His notes in school were always clean & even pleasing to the eye. He’ll never stray from a line & it’s very rare to see them misspell anything. For the sake of appearances, they change their handwriting when writing as Jed. Jed’s handwriting is curlier, more into cursive, and a bit messier. The messiness is caused by Danny being unpracticed with cursive. He honestly prefers print whenever possible.

Evan MacMillan

(Pre-Entity) Does Evan know cursive? Yes, but he hates it. Whenever they taught it in school it made his hands cramp & it always becomes virtually unreadable. His lettering sometimes has a slant from how he holds pens & he doesn’t give a shit about lines. He, however, learned to make his writing a bit nicer when he realized he sometimes couldn’t read his own directions on old blueprints. He’s also naturally heavy handed.

Philip Ojomo

(Pre Entity) Phillip’s always had a bit of flowy lettering. It hold pens delicately and it’s hand moves quickly. When asked to take away any of the curly parts of his signature, he actually struggles. Writing his name this way is basically muscle memory.

Frank Morrison

Frank’s best handwriting is bad & his normal handwriting is utter trash. His teachers could never read his notes & half the time he’d forget to write down complete words in some sentences. Because he doesn’t care! He doesn’t write things, he’d rather just speak. 

Susie

(Featuring my last name headcanon) Susie’s pen pressure is always smooth and careful. She’s an artist so she has an advantage. Sometimes she’ll try to make it prettier, add some flair, but she usually ends up hating how it looks. It’s easier to make her handwriting clean. She’s very good at bubble letters because her style is already so rounded. As for the cat? There’s no reason for it, she just thinks it’s cute.

Joey

(Featuring my last name headcanon) Joey writes in all caps for some reason, but his lettering is fairly clean. He could make it nicer if he tried. However, his letter sizing is a crime. His handwriting is super tiny! It works out when he needs to take long notes with limited page space, but it’s super hard to read if you don’t bring the page super close to your face. His handwriting is a menace to people with vision issues & dyslexia.

Julie

(Featuring my last name headcanon) Julie’s never considered her handwriting to be anything special. She only adds some flair to the J, then the rest of her letters are rather plain. She has a decent pen pressure but she grips pens/pencils like her life depends on it. She always ends up with wrist cramps because of it.

[sir-sunny]

thh hcs cuz why not

makoto:

-he likes to paint his nails but everytime he does, he makes a goddamn mess all over his hands and the table

-he has dimples

-he's a really affectionate person; he gives hugs as a greeting, he'll grasp someones hands to show that he's listening intently, and he leans against people's shoulders

sayaka:

-she loves stuffed animals 

-when she gets really excited about something, she talks really loud and waves her hands around, its v cute

-she likes to bake. she'll make cute little cupcakes for just about any occasion. passed a test? cupcakes? won a competition? cupcakes. got a divorce? c. cup..cakes,,

leon:

-he has a pet bearded dragon

-he's a huge nerd abt superhero movies and comics

-he likes the idea of growing his hair out but he just cant stand the awkward phase in between long and short hair so he always ends up grabbing a pair of scissors and chopping all off

chihiro:

-they like to take walks while its raining

-they like to host movie nights with their friends (they always pirate the newest movies ;))

-i love love love the hc that they work out with sakura. and sakura is just so happy to help and the two of them are such good friends

mondo:

-his favorite snack is toffee peanuts

-he attends lots and lots of protests; protests for women's rights, gay rights, civil rights, you name it. he really passionate and yells very loudly

-he failed his driving test like three times

taka:

-he can play the violin

-he holds so much tension in his shoulders for the love of god someone get this guy a professional masseuse

-his class notes are upsettingly perfect. from his handwriting to the organization and color coding, its just unreal

hifumi:

-he loves to cosplay

-his depiction of characters are very diverse in his illustrations; he draws disabled people, plus sized people, poc, and so on

-him and chiro like to play pc games together

celeste:

-she'll vent to grand bois cheri (her cat) for hours on end, its very cathartic

-she gets freckles when she goes outside :) she hates it. she always carries a parasol with her when its sunny

-she won't tell anyone but she fucking LOVES rock and roll

sakura:

-she's quite the artist; she loves painting

-she's actually not the biggest fan of donuts, but she loves going on donut dates w hina so its ok

-she owns so many house plants and she takes good care of them too; she likes learing about plants so she knows a lot abt them

mukuro:

-she's actually really good at doing makeup; she doesnt do her own often, but she likes doing her friend's makeup

-she can do parkour 👀

-her favorite season is winter. she honestly loves playing the snow like a child (shes uuhh really intense in snowball fights)

junko (non-depair):

-she has quite the sweet tooth and she's always chewing gum

-she honestly hates wearing boots; theyre a pain to put on and theyre just too heavy

-she wants to be a voice actress; she has a VERY wide rage of voices

kyoko:

-she takes really good care of her hair; she cuts it and styles it herself. its very soft and silky and pretty

-makoto swears that she has a loud, guttural laugh (he loves it) but good luck ever trying to get her to laugh that hard

-she likes cloud watching. its very soothing to her

byakuya:

-he easily gets emotional when watching movies

-he cant see for shit without his glasses. if he loses track of them, he goes full velma mode

-he's actually kinda ripped; he takes really good care of his body (he's the type who looks thinner with clothes on amirite)

hina:

-she's very clumsy. she's always got scratches and bruises on her legs

-she's taken many boxing classes and she knows a lot of boxing moves (shes so buff are u kidding me)

-she's a VERY restless person. shes always moving; rocking back and forth on her heels or swaying her body from side to side

toko:

-despite making fun of hifumi, she likes reading and writing fan fiction

-she's afraid of the dark

-her and kyoko are really good friends and she will occasionally cloud watch with her. she genuinely enjoys their time together

hiro:

-he loves watching shitty movies and making fun of them

-he's a really sympathetic person and he's really good at giving his friends advice. or if they just wanna vent, he'll listen for hours

-his living space always radiates calm energy. the moment you walk in he offers a cup of tea and lights an incense

[vnderoos]

staring ✷ draco malfoy

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language(?), draco being a cocky little bugger word count / 2.7k

masterlist in bio ↴

"'MIONE, HAVE YOU cut the daisy roots, yet?" Y/N asked in a quiet voice as she stirred the cauldron with slow, clockwise movements. She and Hermione had been sitting at a workbench in Professor Snape's classroom for some time now, working together on the shrinking potion that he'd assigned for the period. Snape had performed a demonstration in the class prior, but this time, they were responsible for brewing the substance themselves. "I think it's almost warm enough to drop them in," she hummed, continuing to heat the cauldron gently.

Hermione turned to look at the girl and she managed a strained smile. "Yeah, they're all cut up," she explained. She cupped her hand and slid the pile of finely-chopped roots into a small bowl, figuring they'd be easier to dump in that way. She pushed then to Y/N over the tabletop before her gaze flickered elsewhere. "Have you noticed that Malfoy's been staring at you all class?" she muttered out of the blue, tearing her eyes off of what Y/N assumed was the platinum blonde's table.

Y/N offered her friend a gentle shake of her head and she tapped the rim of the glass on the edge of the cauldron, watching as the pieces of root fell into the thick bubbles in the cast-iron pot. "If he was staring, I'm sure I would've noticed by now," she replied, earning a heavy sigh and an eyeroll from Hermione as she peeked into her notebook to see what she needed to add next. She plucked a green bottle and the bowl of caterpillars up off of the table. "Shake the wormwood for me?" she asked, holding the bottle out to Hermione.

Hermione nodded and gently took the bottle from Y/N. "Sure." Pressing her index finger down on the cork at the top, to keep from spilling it everywhere by accident, she began to shake it vigorously. Her brown eyes seemed to trail off again as she shook the wormwood and she found herself narrowing them when they landed on Draco Malfoy for the umpteenth time that class. She was anything but surprised to find his icy gaze locked on the girl beside her. "My God, he's foul," she hissed.

"He's just sitting there, 'Mione," Y/N laughed as she dropped five hairy caterpillars into the pot. It was satisfying to watch them to sink into the purple sludge, but she didn't dwell on that long, as Hermione handed her the bottle of wormwood. "No offense, but can he not just breathe without you insulting him for once?" she questioned with light-hearted intentions as she popped the cork off of the small phial and poured it all into the potion. She watched as it's rich, purple color simmered into a dark green, and she looked over at her frizzy-haired companion.

Hermione stared back at her with a dumbfounded look. "You're joking," she stared and she slipped behind Y/N. The next step was to add the juice from four leeches and it could almost be considered law for the two witches to switch places when anything to do with leeches was involved. Hermione hated the bloody things. Y/N wasn't a fan, either, but she seemed to stomach them better.  "Look, he can't keep his eyes off of you, Y/N/N," she hummed, starting to stir the potion rapidly. "It's sickening."

After Y/N lifted the leeches from a jar with her wand and set them into a mortar, she let her eyes flicker up from what she was doing for the first time. She'd almost been nervous about what she might've seen, but her nerves were calmed when she was met with the back of his head, her eyes locking onto tufts of white-blonde hair. "I wouldn't say sickening," Y/N defended quietly as she squished the leeches with a pestle. Her eyes had left the Slytherin boy for a simple second, to check on what she was doing, but when she looked back up, her heart fluttered in her chest. Her eyes were met with the gray-blue color of his own and she could feel the heat sparking beneath her cheeks as she looked at him. She couldn't seem to read Draco's expression as he stared at her, but she also couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him. Something about him was entirely too captivating. "I think he's rather handsome, actually," she stated matter-of-factly, her eyes still locked with his, and he flashed her a small smirk. A gentle smile eased onto her face in response and she turned away from him shyly, directing her focus back onto her smushed leeches.

"You can't be serious," Hermione said as she stirred, looking over at her. "He's such a rat," she argued and Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

It wasn't her fault that she was attracted to him. He was tall, mysterious, and he had skin as smooth as anything. She wouldn't even get herself started on his hair or the color of his eyes or the confident aura he oozed. "I can't help it, 'Mione, he's cute," Y/N told her, pouring the juice from the leeches into the cauldron. "Even if he does have his head up his arse half the time."

—

All of her classes after Potions had seemed to fly by that day, until Y/N was sitting next to Hermione—once again—in their last class of the day. She was never really fond of Transfiguration, as it wasn't one of her strong suits, but having one of her best friends there to offer her pointers didn't hurt. She looked over at Hermione to check the page number on her textbook, to make sure they were looking at the same material, but she found the girl glaring daggers at someone, instead. She furrowed her eyebrows and followed her gaze to the desk sitting diagonally in front of their own, where Draco and Crabbe were leaned over the top of it.

Draco was looking at Y/N over his shoulder and his eyebrows lifted slightly when her eyes met his own. Trying to pretend like Hermione wasn't ready to pounce beside her, she flashed the blonde a gentle smile. In place of smiling back, he offered her a smirk and sent a little wink in her direction, before turning back around in his seat.

Her heart jumped in her chest for the second time that day for the same reason and she looked to Hermione with a giddy smile on her face. "He just winked at me," she hummed, tilting her head bashfully as she did, and she didn't miss the way that Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Bloody hell, Y/N," Hermione cursed, clearly having spent too much time with a certain redhead lately. "Don't tell me he's actually catching starting to catch your interest," she pleaded.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders at that and she gestured to the boy in a subtle manner. "'Mione, have you seen him? How could he not?" she argued quietly and she watched her friend gag mockingly. "He's not even that bad, you're just dramatic," she concluded with a small laugh and she bumped Hermione with her elbow.

The girl scoffed and shook her head, her untamable hair swaying along with the gesture as she did. "Merlin, I really don't know what I'm going to do with you, Y/L/N," she admitted, jokingly for the most part, but she didn't say much else before a soft psst broke their conversation.

"Y/L/N," the voice hissed again, and since Professor McGonagall had her back turned on the class, Y/N looked around, only to find her eyes fixed on Draco's once more. Catch, he mouthed, lifting his hands to reveal a small crane, neatly folded out of parchment paper, and he blew a gentle puff of air onto it. With a single breath, the parchment crane fluttered to life and her eyebrows quirked upwards as it soared her way. She held her hands out to catch it carefully, ignoring a judge look from Hermione and the way Draco's eyes lingered on her as they watched her unfold it. Her eyes flickered over the paper, following his handwriting, which was tall, messy, and very fitting for someone like him.

Wait for me after class? – D. M.

Y/N grinned to herself as she took in the message and she looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows as if to repeat his question and she nodded her head. Seemingly satisfied with her response, Draco mirrored her nod, poking his tongue into his cheek as if to hide a smile, and he turned back around.

Hermione tapped the note with the feathery end of her quill and Y/N looked over at her. "You're not actually going to meet him, are you, Y/N?" she asked quietly, her tone flushed with something comparable to worry.

Y/N almost felt bad for continuing to fight her on it when she knew that Hermione was only looking out for her. "Of course, I'm going to do it," she paused, "I mean, what's the worst he could do, you know?" she finished.

Hermione sighed softly, but ultimately, she decided to give her a nod of approval. "Not that you need my permission, anyways, but fine," she agreed reluctantly. "Just be careful, please. You know I worry about you and the other two," she hummed, in reference to Ron and Harry, the missing pieces of their little group. "I'll hex him out of the castle if he tries anything slick, alright?"

She knew that she was lucky to have someone as supportive and protective as Hermione Granger in her life, so she smiled, placing a hand on the girl's arm affectionately. "Alright. Thank you, 'Mione," she said and Hermione nodded, giving her a small smile.

—

"Alright, everyone. I think that's enough for today," Professor McGonagall called out when the class had finally come to a close. "Class dismissed." She clasped her hands and returned behind her desk as the students began to gather their belongings. Hermione was one of the first ready to leave, with all of her notebooks stuffed into her shoulder bag and her textbook cradled in her arms.

She turned to Y/N as she stood up to leave and she set a hand on her shoulder. "First, remember what we talked about earlier, please," she started, pausing to flash Y/N, who nodded in return, a supportive grin. "And second, I expect all the details when you get back to the dorm. Good luck." Hermione sang the last word as she pulled her hand from the girl's shoulder.

Knowing how strongly Hermione felt with her dislike for Draco, it meant a lot to Y/N that she put her happiness above that. "Thank you, I'm sure I'll need it," she joked, stuffing the last of her books into her bag. "I'll see you when I get back," she promised on a more serious note and the Gryffindor pivoted on her heel, hurrying towards the door so that Y/N might get to meet up with Draco sooner.

Y/N smiled to herself when she was alone, standing up out of her seat and slinging her bag over her shoulder. All of the other students had left the room by then, leaving her, Draco, and McGonagall as the remaining trio. Deciding it was time to approach him, she made her way over to the blonde and crossed her arms over her chest when his eyes flickered up to her. "Hi, Draco." She managed a smile at him, a certain kindness settling in on her features, and he gave a quick jut of his chin in greeting.

"Hello, Y/L/N," he addressed her with a teasing lilt in his voice and she would be lying if she said that it didn't make her the slightest bit nervous. "I wasn't actually sure if you'd stick around," he admitted through a smirk, flipping his bag shut and securing the clip, before he slipped the strap onto his shoulder.

She gave him a weak shrug and she matched his pace as they started towards the exit. "Well, you've been catching my eye all day. I was too curious to ditch you," countered Y/N, jokingly of course, and she stepped out into the corridor with Malfoy at her side. "Why'd you want me to wait up for you?" she questioned as she decided to turn in the direction she'd take to the Gryffindor commons. She figured if he wanted to talk so badly, he'd follow her.

And he did, of course.

Draco didn't even seem to notice as his steps mimicked her own. "I just wanted to get you away from Granger," he explained with a smirk on his lips and she furrowed her eyebrows at him in confusion. Maybe he really was going to hex her or something. "I wanted to tell you that you look nice today without her biting my head off," he elaborated, quick to dispel her doubts in him, and she was almost relieved.

As his words settled in, Y/N could feel herself blushing and she grinned, looking down at her shoes as she walked. Draco's compliment was sweet and all, but it seemed like it had come out of the blue. The two of them never harbored any bad blood towards one another, but that didn't mean they talked all the time. In fact, they hardly spoke at all unless it was necessary.

"Pardon my curiosity, Malfoy, but why are you suddenly so interested?" she found herself asking, turning her head to look back up at him once her initial sheepishness had subsided.

Draco looked over at her as soon as she turned away again, his eyes lingering on the side profile of her face while hers were directed at the empty corridor in front of them. "Well, winter's coming up. I figured I'd have to act quick if I wanted to keep you company in the cold, yeah?" He hummed confidently and he fought a laugh at the face she mad when she shot him a look. Clearly, she didn't buy that but. He settled for a shrug instead. "I don't know, Y/L/N, I just— I guess I never looked hard enough before," he confessed for real, his eyes never leaving hers as he said it.

Y/N's eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise. "So, you're serious, then? I thought this was all a bloody setup," she shared.

"No, I'm quite serious," he reassured her.

At that, she couldn't help from letting a small smile slip onto her lips. "In that case, you look nice today, too, I suppose," she returned his compliment with a cool tone of voice, hoping it would seem more nonchalant. She noticed the way that her words were like fuel to his smirk, as it grew after she spoke.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade together later. We can get something to eat and walk around," Draco suggested, waggling his eyebrows down at her. "And maybe, if it's cold enough, you'll want to hold my hand," he teased with a wink.

Of course, Draco would skip the formalities if making a date a question, but she should've expected this sort of straightforwardness from him. She didn't mind it, though. She'd always found it attractive when boys knew what they wanted. "Malfoy," she hummed through a small laugh. "You know, I don't have to be cold to want to hold your hand, yeah?" she confessed, slipping her fingers into his own as they walked, and he spared her a cocky glance.

She knew that would go right to his head. "So, it's a date, then?" he questioned and she nodded.

"It's a date," Y/N affirmed

"Alright, well, I hope you're buying," Draco said nonchalantly and her head whipped around so she could face him. The look she shot him was almost comical and he fought a laugh as she flicked him in the arm. "I'm pulling your leg, Y/L/N. I might be a prat, but I have some manners. I am walking you back to the Gryffindorks, aren't I?" he pointed out and her eyebrows lifted. She remembered how she'd assumed he hadn't noticed when she'd deliberately set them on a path back to her room, but of course, he had.

After all, he was a Slytherin.

It shouldn't have come as any surprise.

↴

taglist / @umpoedameron​ @h4ppydancing​ @pvintbreak​ @glenscapris​

[lumelii]

PANDA ~|~ NANAMI x FEM!READER

Summary: Nanami and Yuuji stop into the local bakery. Nanami finds something he wants that’s off the menu.

Content warning: fluff, little bit of pining, child-parent relations, singledad!Nanami

Note: thanks again to Moni for beta-reading 🥰

word count: 1.6k

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“Daddy! Look!”

It was a bakery they had passed multiple times on the way home, living just next door to it. It was small, tucked into one half of the ground floor of the low building it occupied, sharing a wall with a pharmacy. It served reasonably priced pastries and sandwiches, as well as some of the best coffee in Tokyo. Nanami usually took Yuuji there once or twice a month and let him pick what he wanted for breakfast.

The window display was almost always the same, Nanami would have missed the slight change as he tried to juggle the various bags they had accumulated from their early Saturday morning errands if his young son hadn’t pointed it out. He looked over to see the small bag of fruit he had asked Yuuji to carry on the sidewalk, a lone apple rolling away while his son stood on his tiptoes, his nose practically pressed to the glass. 

Instead of the standard fare on the very top shelf, there was a row of buns in the shapes of various animals, with different fillings for each shape written neatly on cards next to each. Nanami had to admire the work, they were incredibly detailed. 

“It’s a panda!” Yuuji looked back at Nanami and pointed at the aforementioned bun in the middle. “Can we get one?”

Nanami caught himself before denying Yuuji outright. He had been especially good today when they were running their errands, not complaining once as his father dragged him through town and entertaining himself in the various shops without getting into trouble. And they could go to the park later so Yuuji could run off his energy. A little sugar wouldn’t kill him.

“Sure. Go pick up your bag, though.” He pointed to the forgotten paper bag.

Yuuji quickly ran to pick up the bag (as well as the apple, adding it back to the bag before Nanami could tell him no), and grabbed his father’s hand to all but pull him into the bakery. It wasn’t as crowded as Nanami would have thought for a Saturday morning, something for which he was grateful. When there was a crowd, Yuuji liked to use people as obstacles and run around and through them as fast as he could. Only the obstacles moved, and he usually ended up on his butt more times than he would have liked.

They were able to go straight to an empty table to drop off their shopping before moving to the counter, and after a few seconds, one of the workers packaging cookies turned around, and Nanami’s breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t like the bakery didn’t have pretty women working there-there were several, ones who would shamelessly flirt and try to butter up Yuuji as a means to get closer to his father, but Nanami didn’t indulge or even notice them. He was polite, got what he needed, then left. He never played into whatever fantasies the cashier of the month decided to dream up. 

However, this time, it was hard to remind himself of that conviction when easily the prettiest worker he had ever seen there walked up to the register and smiled at him. Was she new? She had to be new, he’d never seen her before. He would have remembered seeing someone like you. 

“Hi, welcome in.” You greeted and leaned against the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Panda!” Yuuji yelled, his nose peeking over the top of the counter as he looked at you. 

“Yuuji.” Nanami scolded and picked him up so he could actually see you. “Ask politely, son.”

Yuuji smiled at him then turned to smile at you. “Can I please have a panda bun please?”

You smiled and nodded. “Of course, sir.” You replied, making him giggle. Your smile widened and you finally looked at Nanami. “And for you?”

“I’ll just have a black coffee.” Nanami didn’t think he could focus on eating without choking if you were going to be walking around the bakery.

“Me too!”

“He’ll have a hot chocolate.”

“I want what you’re having.” Yuuji pouted. Nanami sighed and turned back to the counter.

“Make mine a hot chocolate too.”

You took his money and handed him a number for the table. “Give me just a second, I’ll bring everything to your table. Make yourself at home.”

Nanami nodded and lead Yuuji away from the big display case by the register back to their table, helping him out of his heavy winter coat when he was seated safely. He tried his best to listen to his son as he talked about a dog they had seen earlier today during their shopping trip, but he was finding it very hard to focus.

His eyes kept wandering back behind the counter, watching as you made their drinks and talked with the other workers, laughing along with them at a joke someone had said. He’d never felt this kind of attraction toward another person. It was irrational. He didn’t know you. Yet he still felt that draw.

There had been other women before Yuuji had come into his life, even a few dalliances on nights when Gojou would take him out and Toji would stay home to watch the kids, just to satisfy that primal need. There was even a girlfriend at one point. But Yuuji had declared he didn’t like her after several months, and that was enough for Nanami to end the relationship. There was no point in pursuing a woman who couldn’t to get along with his son.

So why was it now, after finding contentment in being alone for so long, that all he wanted to do was go up and ask you, a complete stranger, on a date?

“You boys are lucky.” Nanami looked up and saw you were now standing next to their table, placing their to-go cups in front of them as well as Yuuji’s panda bun. “This was the second to last one.”

“Do you normally sell out quickly on the animals?” He heard himself asking, like the back of his neck wasn’t on fire right now.

“We only just started making them this week, but for the most part, yes.” You straightened from setting the food down and hugged the tray to your chest. “The red bean panda usually sells first. I suppose people are more used to the flavor.”

“What’s your name?” Yuuji asked suddenly, taking a big bite out of the head of his panda.

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled at the young boy. “What’s yours?”

Thankfully, Yuuji took the time to actually swallow his food before speaking, which was uncharacteristic of him. “My name is Yuuji.” His son said proudly. “I’m five.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Yuuji.” Your eyes turned to Nanami expectantly. “And your name?”

“His name is Dad.” Yuuji told her before Nanami could reply. She laughed, and he thought he hadn’t heard anything quite so wonderful today.

“And is that your first or last name?”

“Our last name is Nanami.” Yuuji answered again, cutting off his father as he opened his mouth to speak. “We live in the building next door.”

“Really? So I do. I just moved in. We’re neighbors.”

“Can I come visit you?” Yuuji asked excitedly.

“Yuuji, let’s not take up any more of the lady’s time.” Nanami interjected, noticing another customer had walked in, but also slightly embarrassed at his son’s oversharing.

“You’re fine, don’t worry. We already had our big morning rush.” You leaned in closer so the young boy wouldn’t hear what you were saying. “I put a shot of espresso in your cup. It should help if you need the caffeine.”

Nanami merely stared back when you pulled back and smiled again. He didn’t know how to respond to this kindness from a total stranger. You didn’t even know him, yet you spoke and cared as if you had been acquainted for a lifetime.

“Y/N!” A voice from the kitchen yelled before Nanami could open his mouth to thank you properly. “We’re almost out of spritz cookies!”

“Coming!” You yelled back and bowed slightly to Nanami. “It was nice to meet you, Dad-san.”

You were gone before he could reply. “It’s Kento.” He murmured to himself. However, Yuuji heard him and fixed him with a frown.

“Your name is Dad.” Yuuji said resolutely.

“I had a name before you came along.”

“And now it’s Dad.”

They sat quietly finishing their drinks, Yuuji swinging his legs happily as he finished his bun and watched the people coming and going in the bakery with wide, curious eyes. Nanami tried hard not to stare at you behind the counter as you worked, but his eyes kept drifting your direction of their own volition. He’d never felt this kind of pull before. He had to be imagining it. He was being irrational.

His line of vision as he watched the door to the kitchen, waiting for you to come out again after disappearing several minutes ago, was blocked when another server came up and set a brown bag with the bakery’s logo on the table. Nanami immediately picked it up and tried to hand it back.

“We didn’t order this.” He told the teenage boy.

“They’re on the house,” was all the boy said before going back behind the counter.

Nanami looked behind the counter and saw you had appeared again, now watching them. When he caught your eye, you smiled widely and gave him a small thumbs up. Looking inside the bag, there was a pair of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, along with the last panda bun. When he turned the bag to put it in with one of the larger shopping bags from their trip, the black ink of a marker caught his eye. Pulling the bag back out, he noticed the same neat handwriting from the display case.

‘Thanks for coming in, neighbor ^_^’

He was truly fucked.

tags: @oikawaandkuroostan (let me know if you want to get added to my tag list-either for this story or any of my writing!)

[13uswntimagines]

Glad You Came (Julie x Reader)

Request: Julie x reader where reader is kind of the fuckgirl of the team. Reader knows that julie have feelings for her and like her attention. Julie thinks that reader plays with her feelings. But reader actually like julie and try to get her trust back. End with fluff please.

Author’s Note: Idk if this actually fits the prompt, but I just couldn’t get the image out of my head. I hope you all enjoy.

Jj had always been a sucker for a good Rom-Com. The ones where the good girl fell for the bad boy (with a good heart) and that bad boy stepped up to the plate and got his shit together for her. 

But alas, though you were the team’s resident bad girl, this wasn’t a rom-com and it appeared you had zero intention of making a dent in your precious reputation. At least that’s what she thought. 

You always did have a knack for proving people wrong. 

*****

The bouquet of roses was the first thing everyone noticed when they stepped into the locker room. It was an amazing surprise after such a rough practice. A not entirely unexpected, but still incredible surprise. 

JJ blushed as she approached her overflowing locker. This secret admirer stuff was getting a bit out of hand. 

“Why does Julie get roses, but none of the rest of us do?” Emily whined, settling down in front of her own bare cubby. 

Lindsey rolled her eyes. If JJ was going to keep getting gifts from a random person, she and the rest of the girls with significant others on the team were really going to have to step up their game. 

“You don’t like dead flowers Sonnett,” She called to the blond 3 lockers over. 

“Yeah, but it’s not fair if she gets them and the rest of us don’t,” Emily sighed dramatically, and the rest of the room giggled. 

“It's from her admirer,” Kelley chimed in, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

JJ’s blush deepened. She carefully reached out and grabbed the thornless Rose with a little tag on it, bringing the delicate petals to her nose before examining the little handwritten note. 

“Ooo, what’s the note say this time?” Kelley asked, as half the team crowded around the midfielder. 

Julie took a big deep breath before reading the black cursive words out loud. 

“I wanted to get you something as beautiful as you are, but couldn’t find anything that came close,”

“Awww,” the team cooed, some rubbing Julie’s back and others ruffling her hair as they made their way back to their respective areas. 

She ran her fingers over the little words, trying to imagine the face of the person who could have written them. The person who would go to such lengths to show their interest in her. But the gifts were always sweet and never creepy. 

The gifts ranged from coffee orders sent to her hotel room, to a signed Mia Hamm jersey that had shown up in her locker, but the thing that always remained was the smooth black cursive notes that accompanied them. 

She brushed the soft petals against her nose again. How she longed to know who thought so highly of her. 

“Who could get roses in here?” Sam snorted, pulling her boots off. 

“It’s gotta be a teammate. They show up literally everywhere we go,” Rose said thoughtfully, glancing around at all the women in the room, her eyes lingering on where you were grinning down at your phone. 

There was just something about your smile and the way you kept glancing up at a certain blond midfielder. 

“At least we know it’s not Y/n,” Emily cackled. 

You looked up at the group from your place across the room, where they all thought you were trying to ignore the commotion (probably in favor of texting a random girl for a hookup). 

You had the reputation of being the fuckgirl of the team. And you took pride in that. You liked when women gave you attention, and as long as everything was consensual, you didn’t see the harm in messing around. That didn’t mean you treated women like objects. Quite the opposite. You loved to woo them, to make them feel beautiful, and then move on to the next conquest. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“With a body count as high as yours, I doubt you’re capable of being this romantic,” Julie spat back, glaring at you. Your history with her was far from perfect, and she had found out about your reputation first hand. 

You smirked. If you couldn’t positively have her attention (the way you wanted but were too afraid to admit), then you would take the hostility any day. Angry Julie was still sexy after all. 

“How do you think I get them into my bed? Maybe I’m a secret mush at heart,” You asked, standing and approaching the woman. Your hands gently brushed over her shoulder and you began to lean in close to her. 

She brought her finger up to push against your nose, stopping you in your tracks. You tried and failed to cover your smile at the touch. 

“Yeah right,” She scoffed, shoving you back. 

Your smile widened, as you stepped back, your arms wide. “You never know till you try it, Jules,”

“Been there, done that. No thanks,” She shook her head and turned away from you. “At least I have enough class not to fuck anything with a pulse”

Rose tilted her head to the side at the brief look of sadness that crossed your features. Her eyebrows furrowed at the look, and how quickly it was gone. 

****

You picked at the tape around your wrist- a habit that started in middle school after an unfortunate event that required stitches and had become one of your many signatures within the team. The pressure around the area was calming now, and always put you in the right mode of a game.

It also gave you something to absentmindedly play with as you waited for the next set of drills on the bench (totally not checking out a certain blond when she wasn’t looking). 

“When are you going to tell her that you’re her admirer?” Rose said, settling down on the bench beside you. 

You shrugged. “First, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”  You glanced up at the bling again, before blinking back to Rose’s raised eyebrow. 

You took a deep breath, finally managing to get a finger under the tape. 

“And second never. I’m defective remember? Completely incapable of love,” 

You repeated the words JJ had said to you that fateful night. The night you had ruined the best almost relationship you ever had. It wasn’t you exactly, just the fact that a woman was texting you while you were in bed with Julie. You weren’t going to respond, but the blond midfielder had caught sight of the screen before you could clear the notification. 

That was enough proof for her. She kicked you out and didn’t let you explain- there was nothing to say apparently. 

“That’s why you always send her flowers and notes, and other gooey stuff right?” Rose rolled her eyes. 

She had known you since the two of you were in diapers. She knew all about your hang-ups on relationships, but she also knew the secret romantic side. The sweet side that you didn’t show to everyone. Everyone except a blond midfielder (who was still very smitten with you, even if you didn’t want to believe it). 

“I-,” You paused, biting your lip, your eyes getting that faraway look Rose knew all too well. You shook your head. You had your shot and it had blown up in your face. “She doesn’t want me. It’s just easier this way,” 

“What, to hopelessly pine after someone? Or to completely avoid rejection all together?” Rose snorted. 

You shook your head again, finally looking rose in the eyes. “I hurt her Rose. She doesn’t want someone she can’t trust,” 

Rose softened at the admission and the unspoken “I’m not good enough” that went with it. You had always struggled with that, maybe that’s why you were such a lady killer. You so badly wanted to be enough, that you jumped at every opportunity. But it was different after you met JJ. 

“How many people have you slept with within the last 3 months?” Rose asked suddenly. 

And you blinked at her a few times, completely unsure of where your best friend was going with this. 

“What?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “If you can’t think of an exact number, ballpark it for me,”

You vehemently shook your head. You hadn’t met a hookup since that night, too hung up on JJ, and afraid that continuing would destroy any remaining chance you had with the woman. 

“I haven’t,” 

Rose snapped, patting your shoulder. “Exactly. You’re proving to her, the entire team really, that you can change. She’ll come around, especially if you’re honest with her and I don’t know, try to keep it in your pants for once,” 

The team had taken notice of your change, how you hadn’t engaged in hookups. Only a few of them knew the real reason behind your apparent abstinence. 

“You think?” You asked softly, and Rose sent you an indulgent smile. 

“Yeah, you just gotta grow a pair and tell her you’ve been her secret admirer for the last 6 months,” She finished with a cackle and you blushed. 

That was easier said than done. 

*****

Julie had never been this impressed in her entire life. Sure she had been to some amazing restaurants before, but nothing like the little place her admirer had chosen. She felt every bit of hesitance leave her as she stepped into the building. It was quaint and romantic with an amazing buzz in the air. 

She had found the handwritten note with the time and place on the floor outside her hotel room door, along with one of the cutest black dresses she had ever seen. It fit her perfectly, and she looked good if she did say so herself. 

She approached the hostess stand, and the man behind the counter smiled at her. “Good evening miss, how may we assist you?”

She smiled back at him. “Um, I have a reservation. It’s under Mystique,” she said, suppressing a grin at the name her admirer had chosen. 

The man’s smile widened as he reached into his suit jacket pocket, and retrieved a neatly folded letter. “Ah, yes. I have this for you,” 

JJ to the heavy paper in her hands, running her fingers over her name written in familiar black cursive reverently. Her admirer rarely ever wrote her name out. 

She very carefully unfolded the note, revealing more of her favorite handwriting. 

Julie,

First and foremost, I’m so glad you could make it. I know I’ve written this beforehand, but I must say I’m sure you look amazing. You always look amazing. It doesn’t matter if it’s during practice, or during one of our very chill team bonding nights. You never fail to take my breath away, but that’s not why it’s taken me so long to finally grow a pair and come clean. 

I know that you and I have history and that I’m not your ideal significant other, but I promise you’re not just another person to add to my long list. You make me feel things I’ve never really felt before, and that scares me. I don’t know how to do this, and I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll try my best. I will do everything I can to show you how much I love you, and to be someone worthy of your love in return. 

Now comes the hard part. If you want to give me the chance to show you that I’ve grown up and am ready for a serious relationship, just tell the matroids you would like to take a drink at the bar. or If you don’t want to see me, but want to eat, just tell him you’re ready for your table. Your meal will be paid for, and I’ll leave you alone. We can even pretend it never happened if you would prefer. Or if you want neither of those things, you can walk away. 

The choice is yours J. Ill respect whatever you choose, and no hard feelings either way.

Truly yours,

Y/n

Julie stared down at the letter, completely stunned, almost unable to believe that you could ever do anything this remotely romantic. A small part of her cheered as if she was waiting for you to finally step up. 

She didn’t hate you, contrary to popular belief. She just thought you were incredibly confusing. You would flaunt your reputation, but then you would be sweet and shy with her. In the end, your first try at a relationship didn’t work because she was tired of you jerking her around. But this was a side to you she had never seen. One that intrigued her to no end. 

“Have you made your decision ma’am?” The maitre d’ asked kindly, sliding up beside her. She blinked up from the neat handwriting towards the man (who looked like he wanted to say more). 

She nodded at the man. “I have. I’d like to have a drink at the bar please,” 

his smile was blinding as he gestured to the left with his arm. “Right this way,” 

*****

You carefully swirled your finger around the rim of your drink, staring listlessly into the amber liquid. You weren’t quite sure how long you had been sitting here, but with every passing second, you couldn’t help but think about how much of a terrible idea this was. 

She was never going to choose to come sit with you at the bar, and the longer you waited, the more pathetic you would look in the end. 

You almost felt bad for the staff. They were so excited to help, so enthusiastic about helping you get the girl of your dreams. You were sure you were going to disappoint them. 

“Fancy meeting you here stranger,” Her voice cut through your internal monologue. You lifted your head to meet her blue eyes, and the sight alone took your breath away. 

“JJ, you came,” You said breathlessly, standing to greet the woman. 

“I did,” She nodded, blushing when you took her hand and kissed the back of it before pulling out a chair for her. You sat down next to her, flagging down the bartender for the woman. 

“You look stunning,” You said softly, finally turning in her direction, and she caught the light shade of pink that tinted your cheeks. 

“So you’ve said,” Julie laughed, holding up the letter. The red in your cheeks spread up to your ears and down your neck as you ducked your head in embarrassment. 

“Megan may have helped me pick it out…” You mumbled, your fingers returning to your glass. 

Rose may or may not have gotten the entire team involved when she finally convinced you to make your move. While you were relieved to have help picking out the perfect outfit, you hadn’t enjoyed being made fun of for your “questionable” fashion sense. 

“Was she behind the other gifts too?” Julie asked, taking a sip of her drink with a raised eyebrow. 

You shook your head, rubbing the back of your neck. “No. Those were all me,” 

Julie smiled softly, reaching up to intertwine your fingers. She wasn’t used to seeing you so shy. It was kinda adorable. 

“Well, I loved them,” 

You nodded again, taking a big gulp of your drink, trying to calm your racing heart. “I’m really glad you came. I was afraid you would find out it was me and change your mind,”

“I’m glad I came too,” 

You smiled brilliantly at the woman. You hadn’t completely redeemed yourself yet, not like Zuko or Snape, but at least you were going to have the chance to try. You weren’t going to let her slip through your fingers again. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: NHS non-fatally qi deviates. How do NMJ and the others take that?

ao3 

Untamed

It had always been something of a behind-closed-doors debate – a chicken-and-the-egg problem, what came first, what was the cause and what was the symptom.

Was the Nie sect’s atypical cultivation method the reason behind the notorious Nie temper? Or were they born with the temper, and the cultivation method merely built upon that? Which one was the reason for their clan’s tendency towards early qi deviations?

Nie Huaisang usually threw his money on the “blame the cultivation style”, almost entirely for the sake of pissing off his brother.

He was starting to think, though, that he’d been wrong.

Aituan wasn’t even anywhere nearby, after all, when he started bleeding out of his qiqiao, his qi disordered and violently raging inside of him and still somehow, somehow not enough to assuage the rage in his heart, in his head –

“Nie-xiong! Nie-xiong! Nie Huaisang!”

Nie Huaisang turned with a snarl, but Wei Wuxian was already holding up his hands in surrender, Jiang Cheng quickly following suit a second later, and in the end he wasn’t really angry at them.

“I’m pretty sure you’re done,” Jiang Cheng said cautiously. “You’re – you are done, right?”

“I dunno,” Wei Wuxian muttered. “I don’t think Wen Zhuliu is entirely paste yet – there’s still a few bones Nie-xiong hasn’t crushed down into dust…”

“Shut up.”

“I will not.”

The familiar bickering was soothing, like slipping into a hot bath at the end of a tough day – like arguing with his brother about silly things, scoring a clever point and getting one of his brother’s rare smiles. Nie Huaisang felt his shoulders relax a little, and he lowered the stick –

“Why am I holding a stick?” he asked blankly, looking down at it. He didn’t remember picking it up at any point. “And why is it…uh…”

“Covered in the blood and guts and possibly brain matter of your enemy?”

Nie Huaisang swayed, suddenly light-headed. “…that,” he agreed, voice weak.

He slowly became aware that there was something squishy and wet under his feet, soaking into his shoes, and he very carefully did not look down.

“What happened?” he asked faintly. “What did I – actually, on second thought, don’t tell me.”

Jiang Cheng’s expression was a strange mix of being impressed with him and pitying him, and honestly Nie Huaisang preferred the pity. No one was impressed with him, not ever, and in retrospect he rather liked it that way, if the alternative was…

“You defeated the Core-Melting Hand in one-on-one combat,” Wei Wuxian said. “Congratulations.”

Nie Huaisang gaped at him.

“Don’t you remember?” Jiang Cheng said, blinking at him. “He said something about your brother, and you suddenly lost it –”

Nie Huaisang remembered, suddenly, and he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as his vision flickered red around the edges again, and he imagined he could hear Aituan shouting his name from thousands of li away. How dare that man, that stone-face bastard who looked so long-suffering and yet underneath it all was so cruel and unfeeling – how dare he say such a thing about his da-ge –

Nie Huaisang had been angry the entire time he’d been here at the indoctrination camp.

Really angry, not the silly little temper tantrums he usually threw back at home or the occasional shouting matches he had with his brother to vent steam. He hated it here. He hated the fact that he was here in the Nightless City, the one place his brother had always refused to bring him no matter how embarrassingly impolitic it was, the place Sect Leader Wen had murdered his father over a stupid dinner table conversation. He hated the fact that his brother had tried to protect him, and failed only because he’d gotten distracted by Meng Yao of all people.

(He hated the fact that he’d had to learn that fact from one of his retainers, weeks too late and him already gone to the Nightless City, too late to apologize or make it up; hated the fact that the last words he’d said to his da-ge on the subject were cruel ones, blaming him for sending away his friend, when in fact his friend had torn off his face to reveal something dark beneath. He hated that his brother had just taken those cruel words from him, suffered under his accusations, without defending himself from them, because he blamed himself for – for what? For being just, the way he was supposed to be?  For protecting him?)

He hated the Yin metal, the vile corruption he could feel for all that they were in a different part of the palace. He hated Wen Chao making them memorize and recite, which he was terrible at, and he hated him for making them do it outside in the hot sun and the hot earth until he fainted from heatstroke, his weak golden core insufficient to protect him the way the others did them.

He hated Wen Ruohan, he hated Wen Chao, and he hated, hated, hated Wen Zhuliu.

Most of the boys at the indoctrination camp had gotten the idea that he wasn’t that bad, for all that he was terrifying, because he always looked so bored about everything, like he was having to fulfil all of this as a torturous duty instead of a pleasure, but he’d been the one to carry Nie Huaisang back inside after he’d fainted and he’d said some things about his brother then, when Nie Huaisang was too weak to do anything, and today he’d come by, watching Nie Huaisang struggle to set up the small tent he’d been given for their travels, and he’d said them again…

“He wanted to steal my brother’s cultivation,” Nie Huaisang said through numb lips. His hands were clenched, quivering with rage that was impossible to bury down in his heart – was this how his brother felt all the time? No wonder he was so straightforward about most things; forget scheming, it was amazing he could even think. “He wanted – he didn’t even think of him as a person. Just dirt beneath his feet, fruit ripe for the plucking, some animal he could slaughter as a prize to give to his wretched master –”

He’d even said, today, that they could use what was left over as a corpse puppet, and chuckled when he thought of what the great Chifeng-zun would have thought of that.

Nie Huaisang had been angry ever since they’d arrived, full of bile and choler and rage.

His family never did handle their rage well.

“You had a minor qi deviation,” Wei Wuxian said solemnly, looking at him. “You’re still bleeding – your eyes, your nose, your ears…We need to get you to a doctor.”

“We need to hide the body before anyone finds it, that’s what we need to do,” Jiang Cheng said.

“We can do both! Multitasking!”

He was very lucky to have such good friends, Nie Huaisang thought to himself, and toppled over.

He woke up back in the sorry excuse for a camp, with Wen Qing acting as his doctor and Wen Ning as her assistant, taking care of him (it had taken an embarrassingly long while before Nie Huaisang remembered their names, for all that they’d come to lessons at the Cloud Recesses, too, both of them, and even though they’d all gone on a whole mission to the village with the goddess statute together afterwards, but in his defense he was really bad at memorizing - anything), and while Wen Qing kept herself nice and professional, Wen Ning kept shooting him extremely impressed looks that Nie Huaisang didn’t think he deserved.

He hadn’t actually defeated the Core-Melting Hand in one-on-one combat, no matter what Wei Wuxian said. He’d launched a surprise attack at the back of a man who wasn’t expecting it, because no one ever expected anything from Nie Huaisang.

“You have remarkable arm strength,” Wen Qing said (she had looked amused when he asked about her name, blushing with shame), sounding casual but clearly fishing a little. “It’s hidden by your thin frame, and even further minimized by your choice in clothing, but actually you have significant muscle there.”

“Saber practice,” Nie Huaisang explained. “Sabers are heavier than swords, and rely more on brute force. At home, you train a lot with heavy things even before you get your own saber, just to make sure you can wield it properly – you have to have a good arm.”

He’d been barely mediocre by his sect’s standards, and even that level he’d only achieved through years of nagging, threatening, and occasional bribery on his older brother’s part. He shouldn’t have been able to win, but Wen Zhuliu hadn’t even been looking at Nie Huaisang when he’d said what he said, hadn’t seen the moment he’d snapped and attacked, his disordered qi giving him extraordinary strength even as it turned against him to destroy him internally, and if there was one thing that saber style taught you it was not to let someone who’d fallen to your blade get up again.

(Had his brother brought out Baxia against Meng Yao, before deciding to let him go? He couldn’t help but wonder – it was bad luck if he had, a severing of the relationship in an unfixable way, but he wasn’t sure his brother would be strong enough to resist trying to repair it if Meng Yao ever came back. Where was Meng Yao, anyway?)

Attacking a man from behind wasn’t really honorable, he thought glumly, and he thought he understood for the first time why his brother was so strict about such things: it didn’t feel good to have done it this way. It felt like cheating, made every approving gaze feel like a lie, like something he didn’t deserve.

“So what happens now?” he asked, and Wen Qing shrugged a little helplessly. “Does, uh…”

“Wei-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi are hiding the remains,” Wen Ning volunteered. He looked way too cheerfully when he said ‘remains’. Possible budding mass-murderer? Or maybe he’d just been a doctor’s assistant for too long. “Wen-er-gongzi hasn’t noticed yet – he’s still with Wang Lingjiao.”

“But he will notice,” Nie Huaisang said.

“As long as he doesn’t blame any of you, does it matter?” Wen Qing said.

“…if you have an example of Wen Zhuliu’s handwriting, I can probably forge it to look like a note saying he was summoned back by Sect Leader Wen.”

Wen Qing and Wen Ning exchanged looks he didn’t quite understand, but they brought him what he needed, and by the time they got trapped in a horrible underground cave with a gigantic man-eating Xuanwu the next day, Wen Chao still hadn’t figured it out, though he’d been in an awful mood the entire time.

“Why are you sitting down?” Jiang Cheng scolded him even as he dashed around fighting Wen sect soldiers, and see, this was why Nie Huaisang didn’t ever fight. It only made people expect him to do it more – Jiang Cheng hadn’t scolded him at all for hiding behind things before…

Before.

“Leave him alone,” Jin Zixuan said. He hadn’t been there, so he still looked disdainful and dismissive; it was amazing how much of a relief that was. “He can’t help anyway.”

“But –”

“My head hurts,” Nie Huaisang said plaintively, and it had the benefit of being both true and working very effectively to get Jiang Cheng to head as far away from him as possible in a sudden rush. After a while, he got up and picked up one of the swords some unfortunate Wen sect retainer had dropped.

“I have no idea what I’m doing with this,” he said, very seriously, to yet another unfortunate Wen sect retainer, before lifting it and bringing it down, saber-style, the way his brother had all but beaten into his head.

That one didn’t seemed like he was expecting it, either, even though Nie Huaisang was right in front of his face and everything.

It felt a bit better, though – Aituan didn’t like the Wen sect one bit, he thought a little muzzily, and wondered why he’d thought that, since after all Aituan was all the way back at home – and he was a little less ashamed to stand with the rest of them as they tried to figure out a way out of the cave.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” he said to the Lan disciple who picked up a bow and was trying to aim it at the Xuanwu. “You’ll miss.”

The Lan disciple glared at him.

“Not as bad as I would, mind you,” Nie Huaisang said, looking at it. He felt as though he was standing behind a pane of glass and nothing could touch him - not pain or fear or anything, anything but rage. “I’d probably miss the turtle entirely. I’m just saying that it’s angry now, so the shot’s a lot harder to make; maybe five people could make that shot.”

“Lan-er-gongzi could make it.”

“Yes, well, Lan-er-gongzi isn’t human,” Nie Huaisang said, quite seriously, and the Lan disciple’s lips twitched. “Seriously, don’t waste your time – or your arrows. If you’re anywhere good enough at archery to even think that you could make that shot, you need to keep them to protect me.”

“Are you in need of protection?”

“Oh, always,” Nie Huaisang said blithely, the way he always did, then paused and grimaced. “Most of the time, anyway. I got sick, earlier.”

He was pretty sure the Lan disciple didn’t understand what he meant by sick.

“You don’t really want me to protect you,” the disciple said, frowning. “Do you?”

Nie Huaisang wanted everyone to protect him. He never wanted to fight again in his life.

But the Lan disciple looked like he was a little pleased to have been asked, like no one had ever asked him before, and Nie Huaisang suddenly felt a sudden stab of empathy hitting him straight in the heart.

“I do. I’m pretty sure all the other Nie disciples here are short-range fighters –” His brother had sent as few of them as he could manage, and only sent any at all because he wanted someone there to keep an eye on Nie Huaisang. To protect him. “– and they’re mostly hotheaded idiots –” That was definitely true. “– and I really, really don’t want to end up in another situation where I get sick again, because my brother will never forgive me. So I could use an archer.”

“…okay,” the Lan disciple said. “I’m Su She.”

Nie Huaisang nodded. “I promise to apologize to your sect later on for taking up your time.”

He managed not to be sick the entire journey home.

Maybe it was an aberration, he thought, maybe –

When he got home, his brother was holding Aituan in his hand instead of Baxia – she was in her sheath on his back – and he rushed over to him at once, presenting the saber to him before he did anything else; confused, Nie Huaisang accepted his saber, wondering if he was going to need to go practice or something, and the second his hand wrapped around the hilt –

Oh.

Oh.

His head abruptly cleared, the fog he hadn’t even realized was there finally lifting, the rage draining out of him and back into Aituan – not an especially angry saber, as they went, but still a Nie saber with all that entailed. His qi finally, finally straightened out, stabilized, and he felt like he could breathe again, his mind free and clear now that he had a saber in his hand.

Like all the other Nies before him.

Doomed.

And then he was in his brother’s arms, being held tight.

“Oh, Huaisang,” his brother said, and his voice sounded raw and broken, almost as if he’d been weeping. “I never wanted this for you.”

Nie Huaisang hugged him back.

“It’s okay,” he said, and the buzzing in the back of his head that was Aituan agreed with him. He’d been there the whole time, ever since the first incident; it didn’t matter how far away from each other they were. “It was a small one, it passed, it’s fine…”

It wasn’t fine, and they both knew it – Nie Huaisang might not know the details of all their clan secrets, but he knew enough to know what it was he was so carefully not knowing – but what was there to say?

It was still his family. It was still his heritage.

(He wondered what Meng Yao would say, if he knew. He wondered if he would pull his saber back the way his brother had, if Meng Yao ever betrayed him.)

“At least I can help fight now,” he said, joking, and his brother glared at him.

“Not a chance,” he said. “You’re going to go somewhere safe. You can go with –”

“Su She.”

“– with Su She back to the Cloud Recesses; it’ll be more secure there than here.”

It was about what Nie Huaisang had expected.

“Okay,” he said. “But not now.”

His brother’s eyes flickered down to his saber. His lifeline.

“No,” he said. “Not now.”

[starlightshadowsworld]

Son of none

Based off this post: Aka Percy Weasley was abandoned by his family and I don’t think they realised just how much danger an 18 civilian blood traitor son would be when stuck behind enemy lines. Well never fear, a fic is here as if I don’t have any other drafts...any whoooo

@transparentfreakpursepanda

Warning for blood, torture, self loathing. Mentions of bullying and neglect. Cursing.

(Also while writing this I was listening to Polaris by Natewantstobattle and...yeah if you want more angst while reading this listen to them and think of Percy :)  )

Percy deserved this.

Knowing that didn't change things. It didn’t make it easier to make it duck past the office that had once belonged to Barty Crouch Sr without feeling dread and greif. As harsh as the man could be and that he had not bothered to learn Percy's name... Percy still mourned his loss. For all that he was, Barty Crouch Sr had been a good man.

Life at the ministry taught him quickly, that kind of wizard was few and far between.

He wondered if the look Barty Crouch Sr had shared with his son before his death wax the same his father had shared with him the day he left.

Maybe it wasn't wise to compare yourself to a deranged murderer, but if that's the kind of wizard his family thought he was...

"Weasley"

It was stern, drenched in spite that was not unlike his old potions professor. But sadly even Snapes treatment of him in class did not hold a candle to what was happening now.

Percy lifted his head, it felt heavy. Infact all of him felt that he was on fire. The figure infront of him came into focus, not that Perch could quite recall his name. Edward? No that didn't seem right. Not Edward was his wand in hand and looked very annoyed, his dark mark was on full display.

Percy became very well aware in that moment that he couldn't move. He was bound to a chair in a room that looked very much like a cellar. He was still in his ministry robes, though they were dirty and tattered and stained in something.

It took Percy longer than he should've to realise it was his own blood. Not that he knew where he was bleeding from. "You Gryffindors and your bloody stubbornness" sneered Not Edward, he was a broad man, towering over Percy.

"You're wasting my time, and yours of you don't hurry up and tell me where your family is hiding." Percy shook his head, defiantly even if his body protested at the sudden movement. "Like I said before, even if I did know, I would never tell you." 

And than Not Edward would shout profanities all the while using his subordinates to use Percy as target practice till he passed out. That had been the cycle for... Well he wasn't sure for how long. Apart from the first time when Percy had weaved a convincing story about the family heading to Romania to hide away with Charlie...a whole false hunt that ended with the brand he now had on his arm. 

But this time was different.

Not Edward smirked "thought you'd say that, no matter. We've found out how to get there attention, and they'll hand themselves over." Percy laughed, it was a strangled and it sent another wave of pain through his body.

Not Edward was still smirking, in fact if anything his confidence grew. "And better yet, you're going to the bait that brings them here." And that stopped Percy laughing at once, he was quieter. "What makes you think they'd come" the words were barely above a whisper that echoed throughout the room.

Not Edward (Percy really needed to learn this man's name for his own internal monologue's sake) rolled his eyes "don't pull that on me, you Weasely's are more attached than a bunch of grapes. Rest assured, they'll be coming one way or another."

With that he left. Percy tried not to think about the fact a death eater had more confidence in his families arrival than he did. His mind wandered to the day he left, guilt pooled in his stomach. No amount of head trauma would erase the disgust and rage in Arthur’s eyes, Percy knew at that moment he had lost all right to call the man father. 

He could never look him in the eye again, he couldn’t even look himself in the mirror without seeing him staring back. His mothers eyes haunted him, she’d been the only one to try to reach out but he had slammed that back in her face. Not that Percy should have been surprised, he’d always been a parasite. 

If anything they must’ve been relived to be rid of him. 

They wouldn’t come, he knew that. Than why did his heart race, did tears threaten to fall and his stomach churn at the thought? Percy thought of his siblings, young and old...they wouldn’t have given him a second thought. Fred and George would mourn the loss of their favourite target, but they would move on they all would if they hadn’t already. 

For Percy though, this was the end of the line. 

_______________________________________________________________

Weasley family dinners were always something else, Bill knew this better than most. He smiled to Fleur who sat at his side, amusement on her face as they both watched Molly do as she does best. It was organised chaos at its finest, and while Shell cottage was a far cry from the Burrow, somehow it all came together. Harry was laughing at a story Ginny and the twins were telling, Charlie and Hermione were actually helping Molly along with Arthur. 

But even with how familiar it was, it was missing a certain brother rolling his eyes at the story and telling the true ending to the annoyance of the twins. Who would than direct the others to helping out with dinner to there mothers amusement. 

Percy. 

Ever since the watch, a muggle watch at that had arrived on his wedding day, with no name for the sender but only Bill’s name signed by an all too familiar handwriting...Bill hadn’t been able to take his mind of his little brother. His absence at his wedding and just seeing him around the house stuck out like a sore thumb to Bill. He wasn’t the only one either, he could see how his Mum would pause her eyes searching before looking down and moving onto something else.

Much like now when she put down the plates and realised that she’d left a little extra to the side. “Mum, I get that you miss him but you can’t keep doing this. Percy’s not coming back” the first to say it was Charlie, his voice soft like he was talking to an irate dragon. “Good riddance” that came from Ginny, in that whisper that wasn’t even trying to be quiet. 

Instantly Molly became much like a dragon. “Ginevera Molly Weasley, don’t you dare speak about your brother like that!” She yelled, hot tears burning in her eyes. “Molly...” Interjected Arthur, putting a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder “you can’t blame her for her anger. Come on, let’s dig in.” And that should have been the end of it but Molly turned to him, her own temper boiling. 

“Don’t you start, Arthur. Don’t you tell me I should be sat eating dinner while my son is out all alone.” She spat. “Mum, it’s fine Percy’s probably having high tea with the new minister, talking about the importance of  cauldron bottoms” snickered Fred, “pfft yeah, just sat around telling the dark lord about his book report” agreed George. Bill frowned, as did Fleur but that was nothing compared to Molly. 

Her gaze hardened and the twins shut up instantly, they’d never seen her this mad. “I dont care if you hate him, I don’t care if this isn’t my home...you speak of my son following HIM, get out of my sight now.” She said, slumping into a nearby chair. Bill stood up, putting his own hand in his mums which she took gratefully. “Percy may be the most ambitious lion around, but he wouldn’t join you know who. He left to join the ministry because that's what he believed in, death eaters isn’t even in the equation.”

And Bill meant those words. More than he ever thought he would. 

“Though is there any difference between the death eaters and the ministry anymore?” Asked Harry, the place was filled with them after all. “Yeah? Might be but they’ve kept the employees, not that I know what’s going on in there anymore.” Said Arthur, adding his 2 galleon’s into the mix. “And there not going to take kindly to a Weasley” Said Hermione, making everyone look down as if they hadn’t just realised that. 

It didn’t matter if Percy had disowned himself, his family was very much publicly fighting the people he was now stuck with. 

And that was when fate decided to be extra cruel and the radio burst into life. 

“Greetings from the Ministry. Our daily transmission has already been received today but we have an exceptional treat for the wizarding public. We will be instead hosting an interview with one of our newest employees, give a hand folks to Percival Ignatius Weasley.”

Everyone in the room froze, and yet Ron who was the only one of the family minus Fleur not to speak, ran to the radio and put the volume as loud as he could. 

“Say hello your family, Percival.” Taunted the voice, it was very gleeful as it spoke. No response was heard. “Oh, silly me I forgot how many hours you young people work, not to worry let’s get him up boys.” 

A splash was heard and a shuddering scream. “Morning Percival, sorry do you prefer Percy? Don’t care, lets start the interview. So Percival, how are you finding the ministry?” Everyone sat with baited breathe.

And yet it was there Percy who, through shuddered breaths managed to whisper a “fuck you...fuck you and your ministry”

“Well that is very rude, and here I thought your mother would have taught you manners” “don’t...don’t you talk about her.” Said Percy, Molly broke down into tears and Bill held her close. Unable to tear his gaze from the radio, no one could. 

“What do you want to say them? I’m sure they’ve missed you. In fact, just for you we’ll be hosting a party. And there all invited to the ministry, so long as they bring a certain Mr Potter.” 

There was a silence before “don’t come...don’t. Whatever you do, don’t... it’s fine. I’m fine, I love it here.” He laughed, everyone cringed at the sound he made, as if he was choking. “It’s fine, don’t come...parties are overrated yeah.” The transmission started cutting off, Ron frantically along with the twins tried to get it working. 

They heard “too busy. Don’t come, Harry don’t...stay where you are!” Before the  transmission cut off.

No one could speak, horror was etched into all of there faces. The twins were scrabbling over themselves with wand in hand to track where the transmission had come from. 

The Ministry. 

“We’re going...now” said Molly, standing up. Her tears were gone, grabbing for her wand and coat. “Molly...be rationale, we need to plan this.” Said Arthur, Molly spun on her heel and glared. “I am not going to sit here while those...monsters torture MY son! Planning will take to long, did you hear him Arthur?! Did you hear your son crying out in pain...he doesn’t have long left...” Arthur looked down, unable to respond. 

Molly looked at the rest of the family, her gaze saying it all: You can come with me or you can stay. The first to stand was Bill, closely followed by Fleur who met his thankful gaze with a determined smile. Charlie and Ron were next, grabbing there wands with Harry and Hermione following. Ginny and the twins exchanged guilty looks but stood. Arthur couldn’t look at any of them, he simply picked up his wand. 

“Harry, I understand if you wish to stay” said Molly, he shook his head. “I might not know him well but Percy’s family 2...I cant sit here while you guys go even with the danger.” He replied, and somehow that was all it was, Percy was family...enough said. 

And so the family of lions got up and left, to find the one they left behind. 

_______________________________________________________

Percy was terrified.

A part of him argued that he should be grateful they came at all for him. Maybe it was out of pity, out of ensuring that he wasn't able to be used against them.

Yes, that's all it was. He was nothing afterall, he was merely a civilian in a war.

And yet hearing Molly tearfully and frantically whisper his name. Hearing Hermione yell the counterspell to his imprisonment to Ron who did so perfectly. Seeing the light of spells cast by Ginny and the twins to stun Not Edward... (Who was apparently called Edgar... Eh close enough.)

Feeling Charlie carry him in his arms, mumbling curse words. Smelling Arthur's cologne.

It all felt right. It was warmth that he couldn't remember experiencing. It was enough to lull him to a facade that everything was fine.

But when his wounds were healed and he saw them all looking at him... Percy knew he had to shelf that dream. "I told you not to come" was the first thing he said, averting his gaze. (Couldn't look them in the eye)

"And you must've lost a few screws if you thought we wouldn't" said Bill, meeting Percy's gaze. "You shouldn't have" is all he replied. "And what, let you be killed by the ministry?" Gaped Ginny. Percy shrugged "wouldn't have made much difference, you've only gone and put yourselves in more danger."

"Are you... Are you fucking with us right now?" Asked Fred, incredously. "No, im too busy ranting about cauldron bottoms to do that." And if Fred paused, Percy didn't see it.

Seeing as no one was getting anyway, Bill sat beside Percy who immediately felt on edge. "Thanks for the watch" he said simply. Everyone blinked in confusion and than realisation as no one has known where Bill's new watch had come from. Percy smiled faintly "You're welcome, reminded me of you."

"Although, I do wish you could've gave it in person" continued Bill, testing the waters. Percy surprised him by shaking his head "no you wouldn't have. It was your day, I wasn't going to ruin it." Bill frowned "is that what you think?" Percy shrugged again "it's what I've been told."

"You are way to chill after being tortured" said Charlie, Percy looked at his bandaged arms and snorted. "Eh? It's nothing new. That guy was just there for the theatrics, sadist if you ask me." Charlie raised an eyebrow "nothing new?" Percy nodded "yeah, what you think the ministry that's so far up Voldermorts ass would allow me to work there without some 'interviews'."

Everyone paled.

"But than why stay there?" Asked Arthur, Percy froze. Steeling himself, switching from calm to panic to calm in an instant but they all saw. "I've got business there, things I need to get done and ensure are done. Speaking of which, thanks for the rescue but I should be off."

He didn't belong here. Not anymore.

"Percy, you can stay." Said Molly, already standing up to get his room prepared. "No, I can't. I have work, I have a duty... And I'm no longer part of this family." When he said that, Percy felt like the wind was knocked out of him but stood his ground. "Percy... That's not true.."

Percy met Arthur's gaze, his father's eyes. "Really? Than pray tell why did no one tell me you were all in hiding... Or a warning? And don't say it was impossible because I managed to send a parcel to a location I didn't even know about nor knew existed."

No one could answer that.

"I'll be off, and don't worry I won't tell them anything. Just do what you do best, and leave me alone." Arthur managed to grab Percy's wrist though he hissed in pain and pulled his arm back like he'd been burnt. "Don't.. Touch me, Arthur Weasely."

Arthur recoiled, Percy looked away. "I spent my whole life wanting to be someone you could be proud off...I listened to all the critism and yes I was a prat. But the moment I made my own choice you already made me aware I didn't belong in my own house. I’m sorry...that I’m not athletic like Ginny, I’m not smart like Ron or as successful as Bill and Charlie, I’m not a hero like a Ron or fun like Fred and George. That I’m just plain ol prat Percy.”

He began to walk away. Just like he did before.

"That choice was against following Dumbledor, turning against the light." Said Molly, wanting him to understand. Percy laughed, with no humour at all but glaring hard. Rage emanated from him.

"I'm sorry if I choose not to stand behind an old coot who routinely sends an abused boy to his abusers, who nearly got 3 11 yearolds killed because he wanted to weed out a possibility. Who nearly got thousands of children killed and did nothing to save Ginny with the chamber. The man who wouldn't give an innocent man a trial and got him sent to the worst prison for 12 years... Who put teenagers in a death game and let an underage kid join because why not. That man is a monster and I refuse to follow someone like that. But no that means I'm blindly following authority." He sneered, staring at them all.

"And the ministry? Because as corrupt and fucked up as it is I know I can do something. That changes can be made in the systems to benefit everyone, Dumbledor is someone who breeds child solider’s and let's a known abuser teach at his school and somehow I’m the only one who isn't okay with that."

And with that Percy left, no one knew what to say. They simply sat in silence, absorbing everything they just heard. Ginny thought about how Percy had profusely apologised after she was free from the chamber, how he’d made time for her since than. Ron thought of all the times they’d have an adventure and Percy would watch over them like a mother hen. 

Bill and Charlie recalled when Percy would still come to them for help before he started Hogwarts. When they found him bruised and broken from bullies except this was because of them. “He really thinks that doesn’t he...?” Said Fred, George nodded. Neither could smile, guilt pooled in their hearts that they didn’t think he felt like that. 

Molly sobbed for her son who was once again lost and Arthur wondered where he had gone wrong to lose his son all over again. 

________________________________________________

Meanwhile Percy entered a muggle flat in London. Alone again just like he belonged, laying on his bed and looking at the brand on his arm.

'Son of none'

And if that didn't hurt most of all.

Suffice to say they all things to think about for when they’d meet again. 

[blush-and-books]

The End of Julie and the Phantoms - A [very long] Theory

The core of this theory was inspired by many posts that I have seen saying that Julie’s “everything was a dream” shirt may have insinuated that nothing happening on the show is actually reality. I brought my series finale pitch to my dear friend @willexx who then helped me develop this headcanon into something I cried about during lunch. 

It starts out pretty heavy, but there are some little light things here and there because it’s what the himbos would have wanted.

We start here:

In the last episode, the boys are ready too cross over. It’s an emotional moment for everyone, they’re crying, Julie is sobbing, and we as an audience have definitely seen better days. With one last “we love you, Julie,” a flash of light overtakes the garage space, blinding our screens. 

The scene flashes to Julie lying in bed, waking up from her ringing alarm. 

She is visibly confused, clearly wondering how she got to bed when the last thing that she remembers is the boys’ painful departure. When she reaches for her phone to turn off her alarm -- it’s a school day -- she quickly notices the date:

It’s the same day in 2020 that she met the boys, that she was going to clean out her mom’s garage, and that she had to perform to keep her spot in the music program. 

So, none of it was real?

Not exactly. 

The experience was a sort of dream-like saga that was designed for her to be able to grieve on her own, and rediscover her voice in her own way. But just as the panic sets in that it was a complete figment of her imagination, the feeling of cold metal on her left hand becomes too hard to ignore: One of Luke’s rings. 

Reggie’s leather jacket is hanging in her closet.

Alex’s fanny pack is slung across the back of a chair. 

But when she runs downstairs, clad in her dinosaur slippers, rushing to the garage to see if the guys were there -- they aren’t. They have crossed over. 

As she moves through the day, she’s a new Julie, but everything else is the same. Instead of a baseball cap and low ponytail, Julie throws on her black jeans and Reggie’s leather and lets her hair run wild. She’s displaying a confidence that Flynn hasn’t seen in a long time, that seemed to have hit Julie overnight. 

Julie sings Wake Up in music, and keeps her spot in the program. She doesn’t oogle Nick in the halls and she tells Carrie off when there’s an attempt at an insult made. 

Real or not, the boys helped her. They did their job. 

When she gets home, and Ray irks her about cleaning the garage or selling the house, she is quick to insist that she doesn’t want to move and that if he needs her for the rest of the night, she’ll be in her mother’s studio.

There aren’t any instruments except for the piano, and the space has the original layer of dust that it had before her and the guys started using the space again. Julie feels empty. But she reminds herself that the ring on her finger is real, extremely real, so she retraces her steps that she had taken in the first episode and tracks down the Sunset Curve demo CD, puts it in the stereo, and plays it. 

Nothing happens. Or, at least -- nothing that she could see.

The camera pans up as Julie is hard at work to organize the garage, and we see the boys in the chairs on the ceiling, watching over her fondly. 

~This is where @willexx started to throw in some epic ideas~

The boys are real, and they have crossed over, which renders Julie unable to see them. However, in her reset reality without them, no one remembers Julie and the Phantoms or the fact that the boys existed in the first place. The boys, while she can’t see them, visit her and try to make contact with her as much as they can, even though their times with her are limited since they are supposed to be on the other side.

She’ll feel a ghost of a touch on her hand or her hair, and know that Luke is there. When she’s in the car and the radio is on a country station, she knows that it’s Reggie. In a journal for school, a small “okay” will be written in the corner of a page, and it is Alex. These little notes keep her going, and she’ll just sigh and say “my boys,” and leave everyone around her confused. 

Sometimes, when she wakes up in the morning, the demo tape can be heard playing in the garage. Somehow she’ll get filled with hope that if she runs into the garage, the boys will be there rocking out without her like she used to scold them for left and right -- but no one is there. Ray comments that the stereo is broken and Julie has no choice but to nod along. 

One day she finds Luke’s songbook that had been buried in the plastic garbage bags of the boys’ belongings. She still brings Unsaid Emily to his parents, and she cries herself to sleep that night. 

When Julie blows up as a solo artist, she actually records Unsaid Emily, and she records Bright, and all of the other songs that her and Luke wrote together. Luke Patterson is in the writing credits for many of the songs, where Trevor never bothered to list him, and a part of Luke is at piece. 

On the two year anniversary of Rose’s passing, Julie finds Luke’s “angst flannel.” Ray asks where she got it; she tells him a thrift store. But it feels warm, like all of the guys are there, hugging her. 

Another morning, she could swear that Luke and Reggie are strumming out Flying Solo on level one volume, and once again finds herself darting to the garage with no good excuse except to keep her hopes up. They, unsurprisingly, aren’t there -- but a note is, that says “you’re a star, Jules. We love you.”

The handwriting is messy. She knows it’s from Luke, who probably fought the boys to even write the note because he just wanted to talk to her even though they need to move on and his handwriting is awful. The note gets tucked into the pocket of the flannel, and when she needs to be reminded that she’ll be okay, she pulls it out of the pocket and holds it tight. 

Before every show, she reads the note, and mumbles a little prayer to them wherever they are -- even if no one else believes they are real. 

When Luke’s flannel starts to lose it’s original sweet scent of Emily and Mitch’s house, Julie spends an hour crying on the floor of her bathroom. A faded orange beanie appears in her room the next day. 

Little notes from Luke appear here and there, but never from any of the guys. In the shadows where she can’t see them, Alex tells Luke that in order for both themselves and Julie to move on, Luke needs to stop leaving her notes -- so most of the ones that Julie finds are even more messy than usual, like Luke was trying to write them without the guys noticing. 

During one of their forbidden conversations, Julie says to Luke: “hey, I never told you this before... But I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would do without knowing that you guys were still around. I think I would have lost my mind, and would have been convinced that I went crazy.”

Luke could have ran to Alex, repeated Julie’s tearful words, and given the drummer a fat “I told you so.” But he doesn’t. Julie’s validation is the only validation that he needs. 

Whenever her and Carlos and Ray make an extra seat at their dinner table for Rose, Julie imagines, deep in her mind, that it is for Reggie too. Reggie deserved a seat at their table; deserved to be a part of their family. A family that would have loved him.  And when a fork falls off of the table, Julie knows he’s there. One day, Julie asks Ray how he would have felt about having another son. He responds confused, and Julie gets tears in her eyes, and neither of them bring it up again.

When Julie and Flynn go to Pride together, Julie wears Alex’s fanny pack even though she hadn’t gotten any signs from him since they had all moved on. He still doesn’t reach out afterwards, too overwhelmed by her gesture to think of a way to properly extend his gratitude and love for the girl who is keeping his spirit alive -- but Luke lets her know that he was grateful. 

Luke still visits Julie like he visits Emily and Mitch. And on Luke’s birthday every year, Julie goes to a little bakery after school and buys herself a cupcake; sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to light a candle and sing happy birthday. When she lights the candle, the candle gets blown out. Every year after that first year, she gets candles that you have to turn on and off so that Luke can’t ruin the moment. 

(He ends up throwing the fake candle on the ground out of retaliation.)

Julie is so emotionally stable for the most part that the complete change is a shock to Ray. He tries to ask her what happened, but she always acts like nothing happened and then hides in her room for hours. Sometimes, she makes random little comments out of the blew and Ray has many conversations with Victoria on whether or not he should have Julie seeing Dr. Turner again. 

At her first solo concert, Julie walks into the dressing room to find “Stand Tall” written three times, in three different handwriting styles, in red, pink, and blue. The message in blue is the messiest by far, and is followed up with a heart. 

The name of Julie’s first album is Phantoms. 

[rose7420]

Use Your Words

A request from @lokiismyhubby

Summary: Loki feels down and Y/N decides she wants to help him out

Warnings: Selectively Mute reader

Y/N sat with Peter Parker, listening to him as he rambled on about his homework and complained about how much he had to do of it, instead of just doing it. Even though Peter could be kind of annoying sometimes Y/N loved to be near him. He was the only human so far that had proved to be worthy of her trust. He was a gentle giant and showed her tenderness and care when he provided her company. He even went out of his way to gather her food and certain supplies to help her out, erasing the risk of her being caught by another human.

Y/N knew Peter didn’t have to do all of these things but he still chose to and that made y/n feel good because she knew someone out there cared for her wellbeing. Out of impulse, she stepped up to Peter’s wrist that held a pencil and hugged it.

“Woah there… You good pipsqueak?” Peter said, raising an eyebrow in curiousness. Y/N nodded her head wordlessly. She didn’t like to speak much.

She had lost her parents at a young age and her kind called borrowers lived in small, distanced packs, making it hard to find people to share a life with. After she had lost everyone close to her there had been no reason to speak and communicate with others. Peter was the first person she had talked to in five years. When she first spoke to him her voice had been rough and she didn’t want to admit she had lost the confidence to actually speak. All of her memory of language had practically withered away in her head, making it hard to remember how to pronounce some words. Peter had only questioned once why she didn’t speak to him. He was worried she was frightened of him but she assured him that wasn’t the problem with an exaggeration of her hands and a written note. Peter hadn’t questioned her after that and only spoke to her with no expectations of her responding.

She released his wrist and smiled brightly up towards him.

“I’m glad you’re feeling good today. But I think something has made Loki feel bad these last weeks. Would you know why?” Peter asks, resting his head upon his hand to see her better. Y/n shakes her head.

“Well if you have any free time, you mind using those amazing spy skills for me? I’m worried about him, he won’t talk to me?” He patted her head with a finger.

Y/n nodded, anxious to see Loki for the first time. She had never come across the god since her arrival at the tower.

Y/n sat on a shelf in Loki’s room watching his daily life. He led a rather peaceful but boring routine. Reading late at night and early in the morning, practicing his impressive magical abilities, and occasionally eating a meal. Y/n was about to stand and leave, ready to tell Peter that he was probably sad because he did nothing during the day when the door opened. In Thor walked, one of the biggest people she’d ever seen, and that was saying something.

“Brother, why don’t you just leave this room? There are plenty of things to do.” Thor said to Loki.

“Leave so I can hear you all blabber on of how wretched of a person I am? My life may be spent in solitude but perhaps I like it like that.” Loki retorted snarkily.

“If you stay in here, your chances of being liked will increase no more. “Thor said stepping towards Loki.

“So you admit it? The mortals of this tower do not want me here.” Loki said, anger lashing his voice.

“I don’t blame them, brother. You’re wasting away in this existence you call a life. Mother would be disappointed.” Thor said, his voice going soft to lessen the blow at the end.

Despite Thor’s gentility, Loki still became furious.

“Get out,” Loki said with a scary calm. Thor respected his wishes and walked out. But Y/n stayed, thinking she had just found the reason for Loki’s sadness.

As the days went by Y/n hid well and listened to the others’ Avengers conversations. Most of them as she’d thought spoke terribly of Loki. Remorse became heavy in her heart and she vowed to make Loki feel better. Since Peter had been there for her she figured it was time for her to be there for someone else.

She crept onto Peter’s desk and broke the lead off the pencil quietly. She checked to make sure he was still asleep and began writing.

Dear Mr. Loki,

I am sorry you feel so bad. I know people can be mean but I think your feelings are valid. If it was me I wouldn’t want to hear about what people think of me either. But I think you are very kind and generous. I hope this helps.

-Your friend

Y/n set out the next night to give the letter to Loki. Her handwritten letter was strapped to her back, easily accessible to her reach. The floor was mute under her imperceptible footsteps. She climbed the towering, unstable wall of Loki’s silk, black bedsheets which was a hard task as the sheets slipped from her grip a couple of times sending her heart to beat out of her chest. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she reached the top. Her breaths were heavy and she struggled to keep them quiet. Approaching Loki’s open, pale outstretched palm she retrieved the letter from behind her back. The paper was bigger than her upper half when folded together and heavy enough that she couldn’t place it upon his palm using only her arms to boost it to the surface. Which meant that she would have to climb into his hand.

Oh, how she wanted to turn around, climb down the bed and run to her safe, warm home inside the wall.

But she refused to give up when she had come so far.

And he needed someone to be there for him.

She delicately climbed into his palm, with the letter strapped to her back carefully placing her feet in non-ticklish places. One twitch of his hand would send her flying onto the covers, or worse off the bed itself. She shivered at the thought. Finding a good place to leave the letter she bends down.

Then a powerful, immense weight falls upon her sending darkness to coat her vision. She falls to her butt as vertigo hits.

“What are you doing?” A booming voice demands.

She trembles in fear, covering her head with her arms. I knew I should’ve just gone away. What will he do?

“I asked you a question?” The voice is angry. A light is turned on allowing her sight of her captor.

She dares to look up and is met with the rage of Loki Laufeyson. She shakes her head in reluctance to answer.

“What is this?” He roughly nudges her away from the note she holds in her arms causing her to fall onto her back with a squeak of fear. She holds onto the slip of paper for security but his strength overpowers hers greatly. His eyes squint in concentration as he reads the small handwriting.

“Did you write this?” He asks returning his focus upon her trembling form.

She nods hesitantly.

“Truly?”

Another nod.

“You don’t speak much do you Little Miss, do you?” He asks with a hint of a smile, his tone is much softer.

She shakes her head. Y/n clutches her arms across her chest, scooting back further from his face.

“Did I frighten you?” Loki suggests his eyes gentle voice guilty.

She nods, her eyes wide studying him for any ill intent.

“I apologize. I have a few trust issues. “

She says nothing and only stares at him with distrust.

“How did you know what the others were saying about me?” Loki asks raising her to meet his eyes. Even through her apprehension, she notices how beautiful they are. How his irises cannot seem to decide on a cool blue or a rainforest green.

She doesn’t try to answer his question, from the fear of speaking and the trepidation of angering him with her words.

“Okay, well I will wait until you’re ready to tell me. For now, I’ll let you go.” He stands up from his bed and releases her onto the hardwood floor. He stays crouched even as she slips off his long fingers. Taking a few cautious steps away from his looming form she is frankly surprised he is letting her go. She supposes that is a good sign. Maybe she will come back to him despite her previous scare.

“Don’t be a stranger.” His voice calls out almost wistfully.

Next week…

Y/n finds herself in a vent located in Loki’s room. This past week she’d felt guilty for leaving Loki in such a dreadful, sad state. So her final decision was to come back. She watched as Loki sat reading in an armchair on the other side of the room. He looked regal and imposing from far away, with his head bent down in concentration, long legs spread outward and she could only imagine how intimidating he must look up close. Her legs shook as she dropped to the floor below with no sound to alert Loki of her presence. Scurrying to his chair she stopped by his black boot. Even this simple apparel dwarfed her, able to serve as her sufficient sleeping quarters.

If you want to turn back now’s the time. She said to herself.

The enormous, unaware boot shifted closer to her and she let out a squeak, scampering back.

“It’s you again Little Miss.”

She craned her head all the way up and saw Loki staring down at her. His black hair hung down around his face. His hand reached for her and pinched her waist carefully, lifting her up to bring in front of his eyes. The pressure on her waist was gentle but still made her fearful.

She kicked her legs in search of a non-reachable floor. Loki noticed her apprehension and set her down in his other palm.

“Is that better?” He ducked his head down to meet her eye.

She nodded.

“Still not talking are we?” He asked.

She shook her head.

“Well, I suppose that’ll be fine. Would you care for me to read to you?” He asked kindly.

His offer was so kind and thoughtful. One that didn’t seem right for a simple nod in answer.

“Y-yes p-please.” She stumbled.

Loki grinned and set her upon his shoulder. She wasn’t sure what to do so high up and close to his person. Thankfully Loki caught onto this with his quick perception.

“Sit right here Little One.” He tapped right beside his neck and held still as she walked to the pointed area. Sitting down, she dared to lean a bit of her weight against his neck. She was instantly met with warmth and the gentle pounding of his pulse. When he started reading his smooth voice vibrated her minutely.

After a while, Y/n started becoming sleepy from the comfortableness of her position. Loki stopped reading.

“You know Little Miss, I think you have a lovely voice… perhaps you should use it more often.”

Y/n pondered these words in her sleepy mind.

Maybe she would heed his advice, but for now, she would sleep.