#it just kinda comes across as somewhat vent-y

[dimonds456-art]

Maladaptive daydreaming.

[touyasdoll]

Dumb Luck

From anon: Hi, I've had a shitty few days with terrible luck and I hoping a request for you could make things better. Just a simple Shoto x reader story where the reader regards Shoto as her/their lucky charm, because he makes them feel less cursed and actually valuable. (I'm really venting here, but I hope this gets your inspiration flowing, it doesn't have to be very long.)

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: I’m so sorry that it took so long to get to, but I hope you enjoy and I hope things are going well for you, anon 🖤

———————————

“All right, class, we have a new student. I trust that you will all make her feel welcome.”

Your new home room teacher was addressing the entirety of Class 1A, but he kept his intimidating gaze squarely fixed on a shorter looking boy with purple balls atop his head, who was clearly squirming under Aizawa’s stare.

Making a mental note to avoid whoever that boy was, you scanned the room to peer out at the faces of your new classmates. They all looked nice, save for one blonde boy who’s face seemed to be permanently transfixed in a scowl.

Maybe you should avoid him too? And that’s when you saw the most handsome face you had ever laid eyes on for the very first time. His hair was two-toned, red and white. His eyes were also heterochromatic and one was framed with a large scar, but both seemed to gleam as he offered a gentle smile toward you.

“Go ahead and introduce yourself and then feel free to take your seat at the back of the class next to Todoroki."

That’s when you noticed the empty seat next to him. You cleared your throat, trying to fight off the blush that was creeping across your cheeks.

"Hi, my name is Y/n. I'm looking forward to getting to know you all."

You smiled as you took in some more of your new classmates faces, feeling reassured by the bright smile on the face of a green haired boy who just might have been an actual cinnamon roll in disguise.

"What's your quirk?"

Your attention was called to a girl with horns and pink skin, who also offered a reaffirming smile in your direction.

"Oh, uhm, I have a telekinesis quirk."

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you shifted on your feet as you were about to take a step toward your assigned seat when another male student with bright red hair called out.

"What? That's so manly! I mean--not that you're--that's not what i meant, you're really pretty actually I--," he scratched at the back of his neck, his face flushing the same shade as his crimson hair. "I mean can we see your quirk? If that's okay with you?"

Aizawa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a seat at his desk, shaking his head at the awkward exchange that he would rather just not acknowledge.

You laughed it off and blushed in response to the red head's compliment.

"Uh, yeah, if that's okay?"

Looking over at your teacher, he exhaled and nodded, his stoic expression returning to his persistently tired features.

"Oh, and uh pick a number between 1 and 10,000"

Setting your bag down, you nodded toward the boy and watched him bare his sharp teeth as he momentarily paused to think and then nodded in response to your request.

"Okay, I got it."

Maintaining eye contact with him, you focused on his thoughts while activating your quirk to lift his backpack off of his seat, guiding it toward the front of the room with your hands, before returning it to it's rightful place.

"Whoa! That's so cool!"

He grinned in awe as he watched his backpack settle behind him once again.

"Y/n?" The green haired boy had his hand up, looking perplexed, but also so polite as he waited for your attention. "Why did you have him pick a number?"

You smiled as you physically picked up your bag, slinging it back over your shoulder.

"Oh, because there's kinda two parts to my quirk, but actually, could you pick a number? I don't know if I wanna repeat the one he picked."

You watched the red head blush as he shrunk back in his desk, before glancing back at Todoroki, who eyes were still intent on your frame.

"You can tell Todoroki for confirmation, so you know I'm not faking."

He perked up a bit at the sound of you saying his name, the corners of his lips turning up in a shy smile before he leaned over, so that the boy could whisper his number in his ear.

"Got it?"

You smiled at Todoroki, his small smile making your stomach do flips before you found the will to look away from him and back and the other boy.

After a moment of concentration, you announced your guess.

"4,389. Right?"

His green eyes went wide and an excited smile broke across his freckled cheeks.

"Whoa, are you psychic? Telekinesis AND telepathy? That's so awesome! Oh my gosh, can I ask you some questions after class, so I can write some not--

You nodded, blushing a bit at his enthusiasm. You've always enjoyed your quirk, but no one had ever reacted quite as energetically to it and the rest of the class seemed almost as amazed as him.

"Wait, what was Kirishima's number?"

The perpetually angry looking blonde boy's face twisted in curiosity as you moved to take your seat.

"It was uh, six thousand, nine hundred sixty-nine. Right?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper as your quickly scurried toward your desk, not missing the deep shade of red Kirishima had turned before the blonde boy smacked his arm with the back of his hand.

"Is there some significance to that number?"

Todoroki's gaze followed you as you took your seat beside him, ignoring the laughter that had erupted throughout the classroom, much to Aizawa's chagrin.

"Oh, uh, yeah it's uh--I don't quite know how to explain it though. Uhm," fidgeting in your seat, you slung your bag over your chair before turning somewhat sideways, angling yourself in your seat to face him, keeping your voice low. "Do you not know why the number 69 is significant?"

His expression seemed to only grow more puzzled as he cocked his head further to one side.

"No. I can understand why 6,969 would be significant, seeing as it's 69 repeated, but I don't see why that number i--"

A boy with yellow hair, striped in the front with a bit of black leaned over, interrupting Todoroki's query.

Suddenly, his eyes grew a bit wider and he nodded slightly, the faintest hint of a blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"Oh, I see. Okay. I can see why that would be funny.”

His smile was small and somewhat reserved, but it was adorable and the sight of it made you giggle.

"Yeah, that's why I didn't wanna go with his number. Didn't want anyone to think that I was a perv or playing a gross joke or something. I'm not trying to start off on the wrong foot here."

He cocked his head slightly to the side again, turning somewhat in his desk the way you had to better face you.

"Well, I think you have made a good first impression. I like you."

Your cheeks may as well have gone up in flames, you could tell they were beet red.

"Oh, uhm, thank you, Todoroki."

Clearing your throat again, you hoped the excess color would drain from your cheeks in the time you took to stare at the floor beneath your desk.

"You can call me Shoto."

His hand awkwardly extended toward you after a brief pause, flashing in front of the view you had of your feet beneath your desk.

You reached out and shook it carefully, feeling an icy coolness in your palms that you were grateful for as you felt your hands clam up.

"It's really nice to meet you, Shoto. You're uhm, you're so much nicer than anyone I ever interacted with at my last school, so uh, thank you for that."

His brow furrowed in confusion as you both retracted your hands.

"What do you mean? They weren't nice to you? Why?"

You shrugged shifting your weight to rest your elbow on the desk, accidentally knocking your unprotected cell phone straight off the desk, which mercifully landed on top of Shoto's bag, which had fallen to the floor, no doubt saving your phone from what would have been a thoroughly cracked screen.

"Oh--! Oh, wow, I thought that was going to end up broken for sure. That would have been my just my luck."

"Maybe your luck is changing. I hope your experience here at UA is different than it was at your previous school. I'll do my best to make your time here more positive."

His smile was somewhat sheepish, but genuine and for the first time in a long time, you felt comfortable around your peers. Maybe transferring schools was a good idea after all.

//Two Weeks Later//

"Dang it!" You huffed as your hurriedly threw your books into your backpack, scrambling to get up from the desk in the library.

Shoto calmly looked up at you in your frenzied state and stood, beginning to pack up his things as well.

"Where are we going?"

Throwing your bag over your shoulders, you nabbed the last of your books off the desk and made a move to start toward the door, but stopped when you realized Shoto was getting up to follow you.

"I completely lost track of time. I have to catch the last bus to go and pick something up downtown and I think I'm about to miss it."

He nodded and stepped toward you, following you out the library doors.

"Sometimes the buses run a little late. Maybe if you're lucky, it won't have come yet."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his suggestion.

"Yeah, sure. Look, I will give you fair warning now; I'm one of the unluckiest people in the planet. The odds are super slim of even something small going wrong? My luck dictates that absolutely EVERYTHING will go wrong. At this point, I'm nearly convinced that a witch cursed me as a baby or something."

He shrugged, coming to a halt at the curb as a bus slowly began to pull up.

"I told you."

Your mouth gaped slightly as you shook your head.

"Okay, wow, well I'm glad you were right about the buses running late."

"I meant about what I said about your luck changing. I hope you've been having a better time here than at your last school. You deserve to, Y/n."

He stepped back and gestured for you to enter the bus ahead of him, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, uhm, I--uh, I hope so."

You climbed up the steps and nearly tripped up the small flight of stairs, but his strong hands steadied your hips from behind before anyone could notice your falter, keeping you from making a fool out of yourself in front of a nearly packed bus.

"Thank you, Shoto."

You scurried toward the first set of open seats that you could find, letting your hair dangle in your face to try and conceal the heat on your face.

"Sorry, I, uh--," Shoto took a seat beside you, actively trying not to let his muscular thigh brush against yours, which was virtually impossible on a crowded bus, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with the way I touched you, I--I just didn't--didn't want you to fall or anything."

Feeling a bit more brave in sensing how nervous he was over the interaction, you relaxed and let the arm and leg that were already pressed up against him in the tight quarters press against him a little more intentionally.

"It's okay, I appreciate you not letting me make an absolute fool of myself. Seems like you're always around to help me in that regard."

Giggling, you began searching for the nerve to look up and make eye contact with him.

Hearing him mumble something, you decided to dig deep and look up at him with a curious smile.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

His left side was giving off more heat than usual as you noticed he was blushing too, scratching the back of his neck nervously with his right hand.

"Dumb luck, I guess. That I'm always around when you need it. I'm glad I can be, I hope I can, uh, continue to be. If you, i-if you would let me be around you more often lik--"

He was rambling, clearly nervous, and it was an adorable sight to see. Further emboldened by his demeanor, you shifted your weight to lean against him, brushing the back of his hand with yours.

"Are you trying to ask me out, Shoto?"

His expression went blank as he nodded, save for the adorable flush on his cheeks.

"I am. Did I do it right? Or---wait, did you read my mind?"

You shook your head as your giggled, knitting your fingers together with his.

"No, I didn't need to."

He smiled, shifting his weight to lean against you as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

"How did you know then?"

You shrugged playfully before resting your head against his shoulder.

"Dumb luck."

[spxllcxstxr]

Bridge Over Troubled Water • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Requests: can you do a blurb with Remus where the reader is nervous and anxious, maybe has a tough week and he gives her a massage and helps her relax? — anon and Hi! can you write an imagine where the reader is dating Remus and is disappointed in her school grades / results and is overall doubting herself and is disappointed with herself? — @emmaev

Summary: Things are getting really tough. Remus is here for you.

Warnings: mention of food, not eating/skipping a meal, hunger, depression, anxiety, a bit of a panic attack, homework, school, self deprecating thoughts, kinda take how we’re feeling in this pandemic and that’s kinda what this fic is, Snape being an ass for like two sentences, crying

Word Count: 1.7k

A.N: I hope it’s alright that I combined your two requests. But, I decided to make it longer with a lot more comfort. I really hope it’s ok with you guys ❤️ Kinda a vent fic? So that’s why it’s lowkey all over the place and the ending is sorta..abrupt? I hope you like it, though. I wanna say that I’m always here for you guys. This whole thing has been kicking my ass and school has been extremely tough for me, so know that you’re not alone. Know that you’ve got this. I believe wholeheartedly in you. Love you all. ❤️

Title: Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water

****

You trudge up the stone steps to the boys dorms, your bag dragging heavily behind you. With your robes slipping from your shoulders and your tie dangling loosely around your neck, you almost consider letting your bag go. Watching the heavy sack of books tumble recklessly down the spiral staircase seems like a great idea to you. However, you make it to the sixth year dorms before you’re able to loosen your grip.

The oak door was closed but not locked. What use was a lock when the door was charmed to singe off the eyebrows of any unwelcome visitor? Thankfully, the boys granted you complete access to their room in third year, so the door couldn’t harm you.

Turning the brass doorknob and stepping through the threshold, you’re greeted by somewhat organized chaos.

Sirius and Peter’s side of the room was a complete disaster while James and Remus’ side was at least nicer to look at. Sure a few books were scattered on the floor and James’ red and yellow underwear was hanging from his bedpost visible to anyone who walked in, but that’s nothing compared to whatever the other two have going on. You don’t even want to look at it, knowing full well that just one tiny glance would make your already terrible day worse.

The room is empty and completely quiet, the boys, just like every other person in the castle, were down in the Great Hall for dinner. At the thought of dinner just downstairs, your stomach grumbles before quickly churning in agony.

Quickly, you dump your bag next to the door and go through Remus’ drawers, searching for that one specific jumper.

It’s the deep blue cable knit one that always smells like him. The jumper is soft and warm and the perfect piece of clothing to cuddle into when you needed a good cry. And Godric, you needed a good, long, ugly cry.

After finding it and throwing it on, you barely lift up your feet walking to your boyfriend’s bed to get swallowed up by his blankets.

The weight of the day hits you full force the moment your head collides with his pillow, and your lips wobbles, the day replaying in your mind.

Your morning started with a Transfiguration exam that definitely was not on what you studied all night for.

Then, your potion bubbled out of your cauldron and started disintegrating the stone flooring, making Slughorn shoot you very disappointed look that made you want to disappear into the Forbidden Forest forever.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned into a complete disaster as well when Professor Bluebell handed back your essays on inferi, and yours ended up with a spikey red D scrawled angrily on the top. D, which stands for Dreadful, as Snape snidely reminded you from over your shoulder. He flashed you smug little smirk along with the delicate O that adorned his own essay.

And to top it all off, you had to meet up with Flitwick right after classes to go over the vinegar to wine charm that for some reason wouldn’t work for you no matter how hard you tried. And you still weren’t successful.

This was becoming a common occurrence.

You always knew that your N.E.W.T. year was going to be tough, but Merlin, you never expected it to be this awful.

Classes were longer and harder and your professors were relentless and unforgiving with the amount of homework and exams they started handing out.

Sure you had more free periods, but those were filled with research and essays and studying, you had no free time at all—it was all a lie.

You couldn’t escape it. Sleep was just more time to be plagued by anxiety to the point you barely even slept at all. Most of the time you stared blankly up at the ceiling thinking about all the assignments you could be doing instead.

It’s this torturous and vicious cycle that you just can’t get out of.

And your motivation was quickly disappearing.

It was getting tougher and tougher each time to even do your homework. Lifting up your quill and taking out a stack of parchment was just difficult. It took too much energy out of you.

Smothering your face in Remus’ pillow, you groan out your frustration, balling your fists around the frayed sleeves of the jumper.

You’re so wrapped up in your despair and panic that you don’t hear the door creak open and four sets of footfalls and laughter bounce around the room.

“Damn, what’s up with you?” Sirius chuckles. You hear him flop onto his own bed.

You bury your nose in the fabric of the jumper, inhaling the sweet and comforting scent of chocolate and old parchment that always accompanies Remus Lupin.

“Don’t be a git, Pads.” Remus scoffs, making his way towards you.

He crouches down by your head, placing a delicate thumb on your cheekbone.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone turns soft, drenched with concern.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and dripping down to the white sheets.

“Alright, darling, hold on.” Remus whispers, placing a dainty kiss on your forehead.

He straightens up, knees creaking the way no sixteen year old’s should.

“Alright, lads, clear out.” Remus declares to his friends.

“You can’t kick me out of my room, Moony. No way.” You hear James whine.

“Yes, I can, Prongs, c’mon. Go play chess with Peter or something.”

“But he always beats me.”

“C’mon, Prongsie, we can scam the first years by making them place bets on you winning.” Sirius suggests. His boots click against the floorboards, trailing towards the door.

Peter’s light footsteps follow after them.

“Fine.” James huffs dramatically. “But I’m not sleeping on the couch again, so no funny business.”

The door slams shut and once again you’re met with silence, though you do hear Remus changing out of his uniform and into more comfortable attire.

The bed dips underneath Remus’ weight and his hand gently starts to stroke through your hair.

“Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” Remus mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

You try to swallow down the lump in the back of your throat.

“Just a very shitty day, Rem.” You manage to croak out, the words choppy and wavering.

Tears begin to flow freely, warm salty streaks making their way down your face in rapid succession.

“Oh darling.” Remus coos, practically pulling you into his arms and between his legs. You bury your face into his neck, tears dampening his scarred flesh. “It’s alright, let it out.” He continues to run your hair between his fingers. “Let it all out...”

“I-I’m just so stupid!” You sob, choking on spit. “Everything’s just getting too much and I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

He squeezes you closer to his chest, opting to stay silent so you can vent everything off of your chest. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head and you’re vaguely aware that you’re being rocked gently back and forth.

“It’s so hard!” You continue to wail, lungs constricting rapidly. It’s a struggle to keep breathing and your words barely come out fully, instead broken fragments are the only things spewing out.

“I’m a failure!” You spit out, face wet with tears.

“You’re not a failure, my love. I promise.” Remus tried to soothe, his voice adopting a small but noticeable waver. His hand rubs your back.

“I am! I’m a disappointment!” You sniff, taking in deep gulps of air.

“Shh...” Remus pulls you back a bit so he can see your entire face.

You already know you look disgusting. Eyes blotchy and red, tears streaming down your face. Snotty, spitty, wobbling, and watery features taking up his entire vision.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm? Let me help.” He consoles you softly.

You gaze into his warm honey brown eyes, glistening with his own tears.

You sniff, rubbing the sleeves of Remus’ stolen jumper across your face in an attempt to dry yourself off.

“Everything’s slipping, Rem. My grades, my mental health, everything. And I’m so lost I don’t know what to do anymore.” You confess. “What am I supposed to do?” You bring your hands up to you hair, tugging at your scalp enough for you to feel sparks of pain.

Quickly, his own trembling hands take yours. He stops you from tugging, instead bringing them to rest on his jumper clad chest.

You swallow harshly.

“I’m going to help you, (Y/n)—“

“You can’t help me, Remus! I’m beyond help—“

“No, you’re not.” He retorts lightly. “I’ll help you with homework and help you ask for a few extensions...we can get you back on track.”

“Remus...” Your voice trembles at his kindness.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps out, a tear or two slipping from his waterline. “I’m so so sorry that I didn’t see you suffering like this. Merlin, (Y/n).”

Shaking his head at himself, he brings his forehead down to your own.

“I’ll be better. I’ll be better, I swear.” Remus keeps repeating in a pained mutter.

“It’s not your fault, Rem. I got good at acting like everything was fine.” Your voice cracks.

“Still! I should’ve realized!” He mutters angrily.

“I love you, Remus. I love you so much, please don’t beat yourself up over this.” You plead.

He bites his lip, deciding to drop it, instead focusing on you.

“Why don’t we try to relax, hm? Just take a nice night off?” Remus suggests, pulling away to brush strands of hair away from your sticky face.

“But what about homework—?”

“Tomorrow, love. I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”

You shlyly nod, and he presses his lips to your forehead.

“You’re beautiful, darling.” Remus whispers.

“I just bawled my eyes out, Rem, I’m sure I look like a swamp hag.” You snort.

He brings his hands to your shoulders, rubbing deep circles into your back muscles. The knots start to dissipate.

“Never seen a swamp hag as angelic as you.” Remus flirts. But his voice is so sincere and honest, you have no choice but to somewhat believe him.

“Thank you, Remus.” You smile. “It means so much to me.”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He confesses, trailing his pink lips down your neck. “Now let me hold you close.”

He lays down, resting his head on his pillow, your head resting on his chest.

Things are going to get better.

Probably not tomorrow.

Probably not this week.

But things will.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

[emeralddaydream]

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚙

Misty Day x GN!Reader

requested by @thatspookyagent: Could I get some Misty Day fluff? Like how she would cheer up a sad GN!Reader, kinda stuff? :)

Misty would probably realize you’re upset before you do; she’s very perceptive, especially with the people that mean the most to her (you).

• She’d always seem to know the best time to approach you about whatever’s bothering you, as the last thing she wants to do is upset you more.

“You alright, honey?” she asks mildly one evening, while you’re frantically searching through the cabinets for a certain ingredient you need for the meal you’re making, something you know you picked up the last time you went grocery shopping.

“I’m fine,” you reply, struggling to keep your voice steady.

• But Misty can see through your façade; like I said, perceptive.

She takes a few slow steps until she’s standing behind you; she places a hand on your hip, rubbing her thumb there in gentle circles. You turn in her arms until you’re face to face. With a quivering sigh, you meet her eyes, realizing with a pang embarrassment that there are tears threatening to spill from your own.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, letting out a shaky laugh when she reaches out to wipe your tears away. “I don’t really know what’s wrong.”

“It’s alright,” she assures, pulling you into a tight hug. You breathe in the scent of her; earthy and sweet, something that’s always able to help calm your nerves. “Why don’t you let me worry about supper?” she murmurs in your ear, running a comforting hand through the locks of your hair.

When you nod gratefully, she helps guide you over to the bed, propping you up against the pillows.

She places a loving kiss on your forehead before making her way toward the stove, turning the radio on as she goes, so that she has something to hum along to. Her sweet singing is something that never fails to help relax you.

You’re unable to keep the small smile off your face as you watch her.

• If there’s ever a time you just need to vent, Misty is the first person you go to; not only does she know you better than anyone, she’s an excellent listener.

• Whether the problem you’re having is big or small, Misty is always sure to give you her utmost attention when you come to her with whatever’s bothering you.

• And if something ever comes up out-of-the blue, you know you can count on her to make things easier.

One night, you jolt up from bed, a sob wracking your body; Misty is up and holding you in her arms before you can fully process what’s happening.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” she asks fretfully, resting her head on top of yours, rocking you back and forth.

“I-I think I h-had a nightmare,” you reply shakily, burying your face in her chest as you try to regulate your breathing.

“D-you remember any of it?” she questions, pulling back somewhat so that she’s able to look at your face.

With a jerky nod, you spend the next several minutes telling Misty what you remember of your dream, and she listens intently. Her eyes never leave your face while you speak. Only her hands move; one wipes tear from your face while the other runs up and down your back reassuringly.

By the time you’ve finished, you realize, you feel a bit more at ease. Your breathing has mostly evened out, and your tears have almost ceased.

“You feelin’ a little better?” she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you answer, nodding. You take a deep, calming breath before lookin up to meet her gaze, and when you do, a huge grin spreads across her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, baby.” She presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling you both back against the sheets. You fall back asleep wrapped in her embrace and feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

tagging: @kitwalker02, @ladyfogg, @therenlover, @liandav, @kitwalkerangel, @elaineygrace, @milly-louise, @thecountessesglove (please feel free to fill this out to be added/ removed here!!)

[kyun-toast]

[MONSTA X] Changkyun - Happy Without Me

word count: 3.8k warnings: alcohol, suggestions of smoking, swearing, suggestions of sex summary: I don't think about you sometimes 'Cause I think about you all the time a/n: I’ve been listening to the All About Luv album a lot recently and Happy Without Me hit a little different the other day. I hope you don’t notice how I slacked off near the end 💜

“Yerim what are you wearing for tonight? I wanna look cute but not like ‘I’ve put effort in’ kinda cute, you know? Like I’m always this cute.”

Yerim laughed as she replied, “You’d look hot wearing a bin bag so shut up and let me know what drinks you want. It’s ‘bring your own booze’ so I was gonna run to the store for extra before we go.”

“Umm, vodka? Tequila? Maybe rum? I’m getting smashed tonight and you’re all going to carry me home, just letting you know.” Soobin winked and blew kisses at the both of you with a coy smile on her face, as some form of ‘thank you in advance’ for the troubles that you would be going through later that night. As much pain she put the both of you through, it was hard not to love her.

“Yeah, you say that as if that’s not what happens every week, you psycho.”

You smiled from the comfort of your sofa as you witnessed the two of your best friends bicker. You were never really one for parties, but you decided to let yourself go after an unfortunate night maybe five? six months ago. You thought that you could vent your frustrations into your notes app and be done with it, but your friends took pity and introduced you to another option. One where you could numb your mind with alcohol and crashing bass, and you figured that it was somewhat more enjoyable than cry-writing shitty poetry on a Friday night. Notes app therapy was now a thing of the past.

Changkyun had become such an integral part of your life that you couldn’t help yourself from unconsciously replaying memories that you had attempted to bury. A simple look at the most irrelevant objects would have him running through your mind before you could even stop yourself. Oh, we bought this mug together. You were surprised he hadn’t taken it with him when he left. It was his favourite mug to drink whiskey out of. Speaking of whiskey, you needed a drink. It had only taken days for him to make himself at home at the forefront of your thoughts but how long was it going to take to rid of him?

As much as you tried to keep those thoughts at bay, no amount of alcohol could ever stop them from crashing back over you whenever you saw that little smiley face appear at the top of your Instagram feed.

imnameim. When had he posted a story? You hadn’t seen the pink circle earlier. Would it be too early to look at it now? You couldn’t risk tapping on it only to see that it had been posted 12 seconds ago, just like you had done the other day. And the day before. And the day before that. Should you just make a burner account? No, that’s too far, we’re not going there today, bitch... Maybe tomorrow.

You hated how much power that tattoo face held over you, looking straight into your eyes - almost mockingly. Oh, did I look like a smiley face to you six months ago? Well, I’m a sad face now and that’s all you’re ever going to see.

“Y/N! Hey! You’re going to stare a hole into your phone.” Soobin clapped in your face, trying to get your attention. You looked up, softening your expression to meet Yerim’s eyes.

“Soobin was asking what you’re going to wear tonight.” Yerim said.

“I don’t know, probably that top I got yesterday?” you shrugged, unbothered by your friends’ question. You weren’t going to parties to impress anyone; you were going to drink the last of your braincells away.

“Y/N, ‘that top’ you got yesterday is a free t-shirt you got from the Domino’s pop-up stall on campus. I’m not letting you do this again.” Yerim dead panned.

“OK and...?” You met both of their concerned faces only to have them grab each of your arms.

“Come on. Up. That’s it.” You made unintelligible noises as they dragged you up off the sofa and into your closet. The thoughts about Changkyun’s story were left on the sofa as your mind was now filling with an excited buzz. “You act like you hate this, but I know you love getting trashed with us, Y/N.” Yerim laughed and you knew it too.

-

Changkyun lay in Jae-in’s bed, with her nestled in his chest as he looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Being careful not to wake her, he slowly squeezed his arm out from under her head to lay on his stomach to scroll through Instagram.

He had posted a story over an hour ago, half hoping that you’d see it – a cover of Dean’s Instagram. How ironic.

He shook his head at how pathetic his efforts seemed, whispering to himself, “What the hell are you doing?” He refreshed his feed for the last time to see that you had posted a video of the three of you dancing to a song in your walk-in closet. Probably drunk. Upon re-watching the video on loop for the third time, he concluded that you were most definitely drunk.

Seeing you having fun like this had him torn between being happy for you, moving on with your life and probably on to other men too. Being attractive plus the endless number of parties you went to now was just the perfect recipe. You were bound to have found someone.

And this is where the hatred washed over him. He despised it. Hated seeing you have fun without him, moving on as if he had never existed. Was it that easy for you to just forget? It seemed unfair that he was still struggling to keep you off his mind while you were out having the time of your life, letting your followers know of that fact too.

Deep down, he knew that he wasn’t happy for you at all. He was just trying to kid himself into thinking that he was. Be mature and everything. That was what both of you had agreed to be when your relationship came to an end. After days of what could probably be called a verbal equivalent of a nuclear war, the two of you had given up.

Crying, shouting, complete silence, you had done it all and there was no end in sight. On day three of radio silence, you felt as if you could do without speaking to Changkyun at all. When you brought it up, he admitted he felt the same. Exhaustion making both of you devoid of any emotion, you agreed to disagree and act like the fight had never happened. You were tired and wanted nothing more to do with it. Or each other. Thinking of yourselves as somewhat grown, you decided to be civil since you were in the same circle of friends, not wanting to burden them with any of your problems.

With so many things left unsaid and ties still loose, there was no way that you could just cut clean. But you never so much as bumped into each other since.

You hadn’t blocked each other though, as you both felt that it was some sign of weakness. Yeah, I’m tough enough to keep them on my socials. They don’t bother me. Not at all. But in the small hours of the morning, you were on each other’s profiles, hoping for a glimpse of what they were up to. Wondering if he had finished that song he was working on. If you were eating well. If he was really seeing Jae-in seriously. If you were well and truly happy.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Y/N’s doing just fine for themselves, everyone can see that.

“Did you finish that essay?”

No, that’s too random.

“I think about you all the time.”

Shut up Changkyun.

Though you had both agreed to be ‘friends’, there was no easy way in going about messaging one another when you had fought so explosively. Changkyun also felt that he had missed the right timeframe for him to salvage whatever there was left of the relationship. Whether it be platonic or romantic. No matter how much he wanted to message you, his pride falsely masked as maturity stopped him from ever doing more than wish for you to call him and say that everything was going to be ok. That you can start over.

“Do you wanna go to Minhyuk’s house party?” Jae-in’s voice was heavy with sleep, squinting her eyes at the bright screen of her phone. Changkyun was startled from his thoughts, not realising that she had been woken up by a text.

“House party…?” Changkyun was dubious.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to, it’s just that we don’t ever do anything besides fuck, and I thought we could do with a change of scenery.”

“I mean yeah it’s just that we’ve never hung out with other people before. Like together.”

He had met Jae-in at a bar a few months ago. Holed up in his studio after the breakup, Changkyun got to channelling his anger into working on his music until his course mate Minhyuk persuaded him out for drinks. Minhyuk had flirted with the girls from the table over to get them to join in on the pity party. Jae-in had seated herself next to Changkyun and a few drinks later, they had quickly bonded over their childhood obsession with Death Note to which she followed up with an invitation to watch it at her place. Who was Kyun to reject? With all this pent-up energy to spare, music wasn’t quite cutting it.  

“I doubt anyone will care that we arrived together.” Jae-in shrugged. “Let’s go.”

-

“Yeah, I invited Jae-in and I think Changkyun might come with her too.” Minhyuk stated nonchalantly over the phone. You choked on your wine and thanked God that the music in your room was loud enough to cover the unnatural sound you had just made. “Y/N, is that ok? I should have asked you befo-”

“No, I don’t care.” You replied a little too quickly, “It’s been months and we broke up on good terms anyway, remember?”

“MINNIE! I MISS YOU!” Soobin drunkenly shouted across the room as Yerim held her back from throwing herself at the phone.

“I MISS YOUR FACE TOO, BINNIE! I’LL SEE YOU LATER!” Minhyuk chuckled as he didn’t hesitate to match her volume through the phone.

“Ugh, you two make me sick”, Yerim rolled her eyes, “You literally saw each other this morning. Just get together already.”

As Soobin and Minhyuk continued to chat, engulfed in their own little world, you reached to grab another drink. If Minhyuk’s predictions were right, you were going to need something stronger than wine to get you through the night.

-

Stepping into Minhyuk’s apartment, Changkyun could feel the bass rumble underneath his feet already.

“Hey! You made it! I thought you guys weren’t going to come, it’s so late! But we have drinks and snacks in the kitchen. Oh, and Jae-in, the bathrooms just through the hallway on the right…” Minhyuk’s voice trailed off into the loud music. Changkyun followed behind Jae-in as his friend gave the newcomer a guided tour of his place.

Though he was familiar with the apartment, it felt a little weird for him to walk through it with someone else by his side. A pack of cards strewn over the floor jogged his memory back to a particularly warm night in June. With the sun just beginning to rise, you both stood below Minhyuk’s balcony at 4am. You shouted,

“HEY MINHYUK, WE’RE GOING TO PLAY UNO AT YOUR PLACE, D’YOU WANNA JOIN?”

“THOUGHT WE’D ASK IN CASE YOU’D FEEL LEFT OUT.” Changkyun added. You both snickered as Minhyuk opened his window to shout back at you, regretting that he had ever given you two the spare keys to his apartment.

“ARE YOU REALLY INVITING ME TO PLAY CARDS MY OWN HOUSE RIGHT NOW?!” Birds fluttered away startled, as a neighbouring window flashed on a light in annoyance. Your shouting combined could never top the sheer volume of Minhyuk’s voice. Changkyun grabbed your hand as you ran into the building laughing before the neighbour could join in on the screaming match.

With classes finished for the year, you had what felt like an infinite amount of time on your hands. Kyun smiled to himself as he was reminded of those summer nights that he had spent with you. Stargazing, pillow talking, daydreaming on repeat.

“Yeah, so you can get to the outdoor space through the living room but I’m giving you special access to my little balcony through my room because you’re uh, Changkyun’s friend.” Minhyuk grinned as he ended his tour.

Upon entering the actual party in the lounge, Changkyun stopped in his tracks at the sight of you on the other side of the room. For a moment, the smoke in the room seemed to clear as his eyes trained on you throw your head back in laughter at Yerim’s animated storytelling. Hearing your voice so crystal clear made his heart swell with something that he couldn’t quite put into words. Half a year had passed since he had last seen you, sat broken on the floor of your apartment, explaining that it would be best to part ways. You had looked so drained of emotion then; it was such a stark contrast to what he was seeing now. He stood frozen, heart beating hard against his chest like a hammer.

“Kyun! Why are you so late?” Wonho, another friend of Kyun’s appeared out of nowhere with a bottle of tequila in his hand. “You gotta catch up on the drinks now, come on, open your mouth.” Wonho went to grab his face with one hand as he proceeded to try and pour some alcohol into his mouth jokingly. Changkyun chuckled as he play-fought with Wonho only to stop midway when he noticed Jae-in smiling at the sight.

“Oh, this is my friend Jae-in.” Kyun straightened up and brushed off his clothes.

Wonho went to shake her hand as Minhyuk snuck up behind him.

"Yeah, friend.” He giggled as he raised his brows suggestively and left as quickly as he appeared shouting, “Binnie! Where are you? We gotta go make those s’mores you wanted!”

Changkyun rolled his eyes and smiled as he guided Jae-in to the nearest table of drinks and set to introducing her to the rest of his friends, hoping that you wouldn’t notice him.

-

At this point, the three of you were beyond gone. Soobin had already passed out with a s’more in her hand as Minhyuk hauled her over his shoulder to put her to sleep in the guest room.

“And she.. she was telling me to sythensi.. she was telling me thynsenise, no, synsi.. she wanted me to synthesise, there we go, snythi…” Yerim tripped over words, dead set on getting her pronunciation right while Hyungwon sat and nodded with his signature painful smile on his face. She was determined, hand on his shoulder with a grip that let him know he wasn’t going anywhere until she had finished her story.

As for you? You were sat next to Yerim, a vacant smile on your face as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Day drinking followed up with a house party in the evening really wasn’t the best idea for the lightweights that you are but there you were, listening to your friend repeat the same sentence over and over again. An urgent voice in your head piped up, letting you know that you should probably go for a breath of fresh air.

“Yerim, hey, Yerim, I’m.. going for some air… stay with Hyungwon okay? Hyungwon, call me if anything happens?” You stood up, struggling to find your balance and teetered across the room to get to Minhyuk’s balcony.

The thing about you is that you are one of those blessed people that can sober up as quickly as they get smashed. You felt refreshed, taking in a deep breath as if to cleanse your alcohol ridden bloodstreams with the cool evening air. Your head still spun a little but as long as you kept your eyes anchored on the moon, you’d be fine in no time.

As much as your body needed a break from the party, it wasn’t the greatest timing for your mental state. Once you had assumed that Changkyun wasn’t coming to the party, you let go of the anxiety holding you back from enjoying yourself. You had been overstimulated from the alcohol, music, and people, not giving yourself a chance to think about anything else. But once those factors were gone, it was just you, alone with your drunken thoughts on a balcony looking up at the moon. And just like that, those suppressed memories regarding a certain boy couldn’t help but unpack themselves from your unconscious. Oh man, this was going to be such a good cry.

-

Changkyun was beginning to feel a little too tipsy for his liking. Though he was having a great time, it felt as if he wasn’t entirely present at the scene, like he was watching and laughing along through a TV screen. He slipped away from the kitchen island to get a breather.

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was here.” He apologised, going to close the door of Minhyuk’s balcony to a figure hunched over the railing. You looked up from your hands at him and tried to focus on the blurry face.

His movements faltered when your eyes met, door still open. Just one look at you was enough for that knock back into reality Changkyun had needed. God were you a sight for sore eyes. He drank up the way your cheeks and nose were flushed pink, how your eyes were glossy in the moonlight, eyelashes thick with tears, and the way the softly coloured city lights behind you framed your face. With the night air stained with your perfume and the sounds of muted traffic perfecting the scene, he had never felt so in the present until now. He wanted this moment to last a lifetime.

“Changkyun?” You replied, as you wiped your eyes clear of the tears blurring your vision. You could tell that voice apart anywhere, you only questioned in the slight chance that you were just hallucinating, going insane.

“Are you ok? I can leave if you want, I-” He began hurriedly, knowing that you hated having anyone see you cry.

“I’m fine.” You sniffed.

“Bad day?” He asked softly, bringing himself to stand next to you, looking over at the cityscape.

“Yeah, something like that.” You replied, letting out a small laugh as you wiped the last of the tears from your face. 

Tension hung so thick in the air you could feel it weigh down on your shoulders. Changkyun hated that you, the person he had once shared the deepest parts of his mind with, was someone he was now so uncomfortable with.

You both stood there awhile, looking out at the blinking lights of the cityscape. As quiet as it was, you could almost hear the sound of your brains whirring, going back and forth over whether or not you should say something to break the silence. Changkyun had spent months thinking of questions he wanted to ask you for when this moment came, but the alcohol and nerves fogged up his mind. All he could think of doing was holding you in his arms, hoping for you to be able to feel his apologies, sincerity and promises through the beating of his chest.

A heavy pressing in your lungs only intensified, as you thought about how the present situation had become the outcome of those few perfect years. You regulated your breathing, trying to break down the lump from coming up in your throat, on the verge of tears again. Thinking back, you realised that you probably could have been a little more understanding, could have softened your sharp words, could have opened your heart up some more to allow for Changkyun to do so in return. These thoughts and emotions bubbled up inside your chest to spill out of your mouth before you even knew what you wanted to say.

“Changkyun, I-”

“I found a really nice place for nights like this. Y/N.” he cut across with an anxious tremble in his voice. He could feel the apology ready to tumble from your lips, he had to stop you from apologising for things that you really didn’t need to. He hated that your heart was so big and so loving that you were willing to start trying to mend this relationship first. But he hated himself more for not having the courage to try to be even half as loving as you are.

He continued, still looking out over the balcony, worried that he’d start to tear up if he met your eyes again, “you can see the stars so clearly, it’s insane.”

You turned to him, tears welling in your eyes again. Despite having cut each other from your lives for what felt like a lifetime, it broke you how he could still read you like his favourite book.

“Can we go? Y/N? I’ve waited so long to show you.”

Hot tears fell down your cheeks again as Changkyun noticed and turned to you, pulling you into his chest as you cried out the mess of emotions you had amassed. 

The person you had wanted to talk about your breakup with Changkyun the most, was so ironically Changkyun. He’d know how to calm you down, how to sort out your problems with ice cream in bed like any other issue you were facing. But what were you supposed to do when you had cut the one who understood you the most so bluntly from your life? Who were you supposed to turn to when you wanted to talk about that?

Your cries pierced into his heart deeper with every second that passed, feeling the hurt in your voice in the deepest parts of his soul. He replied by holding you tighter, and you could feel all those things he left unsaid that day you left in the warmth of his chest.

“We don’t have to rush,” He whispered into your hair, “I have all the time in the world for you. Let it out.”

He brought a hand up from your shoulders hesitantly, feeling almost undeserving of comforting you after the pain he had caused you. But to you, his hand stroking your hair was where you found your solace.

So, there you stood, in each other’s arms having poured out your hearts to one another without having said a single word. But you both knew that you felt every single one.

[wireddless]

Codeine Scene (Five H. x Reader) [3]

Codeine Scene Masterlist

Authors Note: First off, I am SO sorry. New Years is always a slow time for me, and I did not mean to take this long to publish. Second of all, this chapter is a transition chapter into a much more fucked up story. I’m warning you now that the rest of this fic will get really really dark. I don’t recommend reading after this chapter if you can’t handle depictions of r*pe, murder, heavy drug use (cocaine, etc,) and other disturbing topics . I’m basing this story off of personal experiences, and in no way do I want someone who isn’t ready to read something like this to read this. This is like the last safe chapter, please do not read after this if you can’t handle the topics mentioned above

Summary: Klaus moves Reader up to Ben’s old room early in the morning. Afterwards, they eat breakfast and decide to trip on acid together. Five learns more about her than he expected to today

Warnings: Drug use (LSD[acid],) mentions of suicide, mentions of sex

Word Count: 3777

Taglist: @alexander-hamilhoe @dumdumsun

The gentle shaking of (Y/n)’s shoulder pulled her from her sleep. Klaus stood over her, harshly whispering her name. Looking towards his window, she could see the sky was just barely starting to light up, it was still early. 

“Klaus it’s like 7:30!” She quickly grabbed the sheet that was covering her from the waist down and yanked it over her head. A small groan left Klaus’s mouth and he yanked it back off of her. “It’s Sunday!” She tried convincing him to let her sleep in, but it was no use. 

“I talked to Ben and he said you could stay in his room!” Klaus wrestled with (Y/n) over the blanket, knowing she was still tired. Ever the impatient man he was, Klaus spoke again, “We gotta get you settled in right now!” 

“Fine! Fine. I’m up.” (Y/n) sat up and shoved her matted hair out of her face.  “Why right now?” Klaus looked at her like the answer was obvious. It wasn’t, of course. 

“Because trauma can be associated with places! Coming in here right after what happened yesterday could be an issue.” He grabbed a hair brush off of his dresser and pushed her to sit on the bed. Climbing behind her, he started to brush her hair. “Even if you aren’t reminded of it in here, it’s always good to be able to have some privacy.” He made valid points. 

“I guess you're right.” Klaus was extraordinarily gentle with her hair, pulling out all of the mats and even putting in the effort to put it in a low ponytail to keep it out of her face.  “Thank you.” (Y/n) turned and smiled at Klaus, pulling him into a quick, tight, hug. 

Ben's room was up the green stairway, across from Five’s room. (Y/n)’s face scrunched a little when she realized Five would be right across the hallway, but she didn’t complain. Her arms were a little tired from carrying her suitcase and heavier back pack up the stairs so early in the morning, but it would fade rather quickly.

Klaus opened the door and stepped aside, letting (Y/n) rush to the bed with her heavy luggage. “Dad replaced everything in this room a week after Ben died.” Klaus sat on the bed next to her luggage, and she plopped next to him. “He said old reminders would only set us back, so he made this one of many guest rooms.” Klaus peered in the closet, knowing that Ben’s academy uniforms were no longer hanging pristinely on the rack. 

“He didn’t die in here, did he?” (Y/n) turned to look at Klaus, feeling heavy sympathy. 

“Oh no! A mission went wrong, and I suppose we all messed up, but the monster inside his chest started tearing him apart.” Klaus’s usual, very happy energy, was replaced by a solemn, cold one. “He died in the infirmary.” Klaus looked down at the bedsheets. They weren’t the one that Ben had used. “I still talk to him every day, but it still makes me a little sad.” Klaus sniffled and rubbed his eyes. 

(Y/n) pulled Klaus into a bone crushing hug, knowing he needed the comfort. “That’s terrible.” She was a very empathetic person, relying more on feeling than thinking, so she was struggling to hold back her own tears. “Are you sure he’s ok with this?” 

“Yeah! He said something about moving on, and finally attempting to find peace.” Klaus clapped his hands once as he stood. “He’s kind of started meditating too, which is kind of weird, because he’s a ghost and all.” He stood and glanced around the room, getting a good look at it before (Y/n) would make it her own. “Let’s go get some breakfast after we unpack, huh?” 

“That sounds nice.” (Y/n) stood and hugged Klaus again, silently letting him know that she was there for him. 

The walk all the way down to the basement kitchen was unexpectedly exhausting. Six flights of stairs later, two flights between every floor, they were sitting at the table, staring at Five scrape his eggs off the skillet and onto his toast. 

“I’m not making eggs for you two.” His voice was monotone and annoyed. He wasn’t a morning person. “Take some responsibility and make them yourself.” Five grabbed his food and coffee, and looked at both of them before giving his usual tight-lipped smirk and blipping away, presumably to his room. 

Klaus released a few small giggles he was holding in and hopped off the island. “He always seems to add a little spice to life.”

As he was making his way over to the fridge to grab some eggs, (Y/n) asked; “Is he like this every morning?” Not wasting a second after her question, Klaus replied. 

“Yep!” He pulled out four eggs and set them in a clean bowl on the counter. “Without a doubt. It’s worse on weekdays too, because the classes he teaches are all early in the morning. Now do you want scrambled, fried, or boiled?” 

“Scrambled, please.” As Klaus got to work on making breakfast for the two of them, she thought about what Five might teach. “Hey Klaus?” 

“Yeah?” Klaus was stirring the already scrambled eggs in the skillet. 

“What does Five teach? I mean it makes sense that he’s a teacher, but I just can’t think of what he’d be so willing to teach for a living.” Klaus looked back at (Y/n) before down at the eggs again. Her chin was resting in her hands, and she stared over at him, waiting for his answer. 

“I think some sort of ethics class, like there’s different types of ethics, but that’s all I really know. He doesn’t really talk about work, and it’s a bit weird considering he was an assassin.” Klaus split the scrambled eggs in two separate bowls with forks in them and gave one to (Y/n). 

“He killed people?” (Y/n) dug into the eggs, shoving them in her mouth, listening for Klaus. 

“We’ve all dabbled with a little murder before, it’s not really that big of a deal for us, but he swore never to kill for someone else again, I’m pretty sure.” Klaus fillet out a little moan of joy as he started filling his own stomach with the eggs. 

“That must be why he was so unphased about what happened yesterday, that makes me feel a lot better.” She concluded, trying not to remember the way she nearly beat the life out of the man in Five’s car as she shoved more of Klaus’s eggs in her mouth. “These are really good!” 

“Danke!” Klaus thanked her in German, with a mouth full of eggs. He swallowed them and continued speaking. “That actually reminds me- you’ve done acid right?” (Y/n) thought on the question for a moment before answering. 

“No actually, but I did do shrooms a lot with my friends before I dropped out.” Her fork scraped the bowl, trying to get the last of the eggs. 

“Good! You have experience.” Klaus poured the last of his eggs in his mouth, straight from the bowl, before swallowing. “Would you like to do acid with me? You don’t have to, but I feel like this would definitely raise your spirits.” Klaus leaned toward her, waiting for her answer. 

“I’d love to actually.” (Y/n) swallowed the last of her eggs, and stacked her bowl with Klaus’s, before taking them to the sink to wash them. Klaus stood and followed her, digging in the breast pocket of his half-unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and pulling out a small square of folded tin foil. 

“Great! Now stick your tongue out.” Klaus unfolded the foil and pulled a tiny white square of paper, roughly the size of a phone keyboard key, out from the six-ish others in it. (Y/n) stuck her tongue out as she rinsed the now-clean bowls and Klaus placed the piece of paper on it, before sticking one on his own tongue.

(Y/n) stuck her tongue back in her mouth and sucked a bit on the paper. “So do I swallow it, or…?” The tab didn’t make it any harder to talk, thank god. 

“If you want to, but you absorb it faster when it’s in your mouth.” Klaus picked up the bowls and started drying them. “It’s not bitter at all is it?” Klaus asked, checking to make sure she didn’t take a laced tab.

(Y/n) focused on the tab again, not really noticing any taste. “Not that I can notice.” Klaus smiled as he shut the cabinet where he placed the bowls. 

“That means we’re all good! You can swallow it when the paper feels soggy enough, though, you’ve probably absorbed most of it by now.” Klaus led her back upstairs to his room, practically dragging her by her wrist. “Things are gonna get really funny for a little bit before you actually start tripping.” Klaus shut the door behind them and plopped on his bed. 

“Doesn’t it take like an hour to kick in?” This wasn’t her first rodeo, so she knew her way around at least a bit. 

“Yeah yeah, it’s kinda like shrooms? But the visuals and the trip are just a bit different, you’ll see what I mean.” Klaus grabbed a joint he had rolled earlier and lit up, taking a few puffs before passing it to (Y/n). “Just settle in for like half an hour and then get up to see how you feel.” 

•••

Tripping on LSD was a profound experience. (Y/n) wasn’t able to go outside, as it was raining cold, so she stayed inside, wandering around the house. She and Klaus made some really cool art, and Klaus held it over the vents to dry while she was walking around the house. 

Tripping felt like seeing the universe fully for the first time, and she could somewhat understand Klaus’s view of the world. Many times throughout the last three hours, she thought she saw Five blipping away out of the corner of her eye. She had dismissed it every time, of course.

Now the trip was peaking, and the visuals were insane. The air around (Y/n) felt like breathable, transparent, clay, and it was a little overwhelming with all the visuals, so she opened the door in front of her and quietly sat next to it, letting out a long, happy sigh. Closing her eyes, she paid attention to the gorgeous visuals she could see behind her eyelids. 

(Y/n) didn’t even notice Five sitting on his bed, staring at her from over his book. She was too focused on the movement behind her eyelids, and the euphoric feeling surrounding her, so when Five spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I think you have the wrong room.” The sound of Five closing his book reached her ears. 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I- I wasn’t paying attention I’ll leave.” (Y/n) stumbled over her words as she tried to stand, clearly embarrassed.

“No, no, it’s fine actually.” Five spoke, rather out of character. “A little company once in a while feels nice, and I see no harm when you’re being quiet.” His face was beyond distorted, but she could still recognize his permanent scowl. 

“Really?” (Y/n) settled back down, more relaxed and at ease. 

“Yeah, I don’t really care.” Five grabbed his book again, opening it back to where he was. “Just don’t be too annoying.”  

“I won’t don’t worry.” Five grunted quietly at her response. A smile painted itself on her face, and she slid all the way down the wall, with her head now on the floor with the rest of her. 

•••

And she was quiet. Five watched for like an hour and a half as her eyes slowly focused on something new in his room every few moments. She was quite taken by the math equations across his wall, and he found it rather cute. He started to find her less annoying, now understanding that she coped the way his brother did. 

He was alone once again in his room now, no longer accompanied by (Y/n). In fact, she was accompanied by one of her “friends.” She barely even knew the guy. 

Five could hear everything. Every moan. Every word spoken with the intent of being quiet, but wasn’t held under the gentle guise of a whisper. It infuriated him. 

Of course, he understood that she didn’t grow up in a particularly healthy home, given that she was in a homeless shelter at almost 18, so she didn’t understand healthy coping habits. It genuinely hurt his heart, if just a little bit, that he could watch another hurt soul walk down the same path as his brother. 

Klaus had gotten help for his addictions, and was off addictive drugs completely, but even Five understood that not everyone will be able to get the help they need. He wouldn’t say he had any feelings for her, but he still felt sympathy. 

Knowing that it was how she coped made hearing all of it a little easier, but he still wasn’t able to handle it after hearing it for fifteen minutes, so he jumped down to the kitchen, brewed himself some herbal tea, added a little vodka, and read his book, criss cross, on the table in the center of the room, attempting to ignore what was happening right across from his room. 

•••

Bailey had just left, and (Y/n) was exhausted. He was kind of an ass, and he treated her like shit in middle school, but he was a horny teen, and it was really easy to just invite him over.

The trip was fading out now. She was no longer peaking, and the visuals were far less intense. (Y/n), after standing at the stairs, staring at them for a couple minutes, deemed it safe to be able to walk down them. She knew it was normally safe to go down the steps while tripping, but something in her head told her to wait, so she did. 

These particular steps were a little steep, as well, so she made her way down slowly, leading herself to the kitchen in the basement. Her bare feet padded quietly on the floor as she walked to the stove, turning the heating element under the tea kettle on. The bags under her eyes felt so beyond heavy, and she knew she’d be sleeping deeply tonight. 

“You done up there?” Five’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. (Y/n) turned and leaned on the counter to face him. 

“Yeah, yeah, he left like ten minutes ago. I’m just really tired and want some tea to relax I guess.” Her arms were crossed, comfortably holding each other up. 

Five hummed in response. “Well I see we both thought of the same thing.” He lifted his mug of tea, peppermint maybe, and put it to his lips. 

“I thought you only drank coffee.” (Y/n) chuckled a little feeling the heat of the stove begin to reach her back. 

“Well it wouldn’t be very logical to drink caffeine so late in the day, especially when I have to teach an early class tomorrow.” Five flipped the page of his book, continuing to read while talking to her. 

“Makes sense.” Her words were drowned out by the high whistling of the tea kettle, letting her know she could pour it into the cup. Grabbing the tin of loose leaf tea, she hummed as she scooped it into the reusable tea bag that was next to it. 

(Y/n) dropped the tea bag in the cup, following up with the boiling water. She turned, bringing her and her cup to the table, now sitting next to Five. Five was a grumpy, annoying, old, man who has to grow up all over again, but his company was enjoyable, it contrasted hers in such a way that it comforted her. It made her feel like her ADHD was less severe, like her inability to focus was matched by someone who could do nothing but focus. 

Only a day had gone by since they met, and she was already comforted by him. 

Five shut his book and looked over at her. The more he got to know her, the more subtly enjoyable he found her. Her sitting not two feet from him didn’t bother him as much as it usually would. He was kind of ok with that. 

“You drink peppermint?” (Y/n)’s voice was scratchy and hoarse. She really did need the tea. 

“Yeah, it’s the least fruity from what I’ve tried.” He took another sip. “Simple classic.” He set it down and looked over at her, engaging in an unexpected conversation.

“I tend to prefer fruitier teas, I’ve noticed.” She looked down at the cup that she’d been drinking out of for a couple minutes now. “They go down easier and really comfort me. Reminds me of my mom, she only ever made fruity teas.” She took another sip, letting the warmth fill her up. 

“What happened to your mom?” Five looked back down at his drink, then back up at the girl next to him. “I noticed that you didn’t exactly live with her when we picked up your stuff.” 

“Yeah..” (Y/n) hesitated a little. He was awfully blunt. “I was like seven when it happened, but I’m told it was a double suicide, between her and dad.” Her legs were swinging a little nervously. “Mom sent me up to my room one night and told me not to come out until she opened the door, no matter what. The next day a detective came into my room and carried me out screaming. They were both dead on the floor. I lived with my aunt and uncle after that.”

“Oh shit.” Five didn’t expect her answer to be this upsetting. 

“Yeah. My uncle told me it was a double suicide, my aunt said the same thing, she manipulated me and made me think they did it because of me.” (Y/n) sighed into her drink, her distorted reflection staring back at her. “I don’t even remember what the scene looked like, just a lot of blood. I don’t look at anything about it either, don’t really want to relive it.” 

“That’s really tough, wow.” Five chuckled uncomfortably and finished his drink. “I didn’t know my mother, but my mom was a robot. She was pretty much indestructible, but she was fully shut off when our house was being attacked a long time ago.”

“Oh my.” (Y/n)’s voice was soft, hoarse, and tired. Her hand gently moved to rest atop his, not really knowing how else to reassure him, if he even needed it, of course. “I’m sorry about that.” 

Five didn’t even seem to notice his hand being covered. “No it’s fine, I got over it long long ago.” His words were just slightly slurred, and his eyes had reddened slightly.

“Well I’m here if you ever need like, a hug or something.” (Y/n) laughed. “I don’t really know how else to comfort anyone.” 

“It shouldn’t be your job to comfort anyone, that’s not your responsibility.” Five chuckled and smiled slightly. (Y/n) hadn’t expected him to smile, and it wasn’t as weird as she thought it would be.

Before she could even mention it though, Klaus’s happy, booming voice echoed in the kitchen as he practically skipped to the fridge. As she yanked her hand away from Five, she noticed the way he pulled his arm away as well. Maybe he did notice?

Klaus and Five started talking about something as he got off the table and placed his cup in the sink, but she wasn’t paying attention. Before her attention was quickly pulled to the floor, she thought on the way Five had wrenched his arm away. 

As anxiety inducing as it was, the LSD that was still in her system made it easy to quickly move onto the next thought. Before she knew it, a flash of blue wrenched her out of her head and she looked up at Klaus, now alone with her in the kitchen. 

“Hey, sweetie.” Klaus kissed her cheek and led her gently off the table and to the stairs. “Your trip going good?” He popped a black olive in his mouth. 

“Yeah it’s going fine, I really like it. It’s kinda different from shrooms, but not like a bad different.” She was just two steps behind him, trying to keep the same pace as him. 

“That’s great.” Klaus hummed as he popped another olive in his mouth. “These are absolutely amazing. I figured you would like it, it’s really calming and stuff for me. Makes the sad feeling kinda disappear for weeks after.” 

“Oh same, I’ve just felt creative and warm all day.” They stopped in front of Klaus’s room, Klaus still eating his olives. “I’m actually exhausted too, the trip felt really nice.” 

“Well I’m glad I could have helped.” Klaus pulled her into a tight hug, humming loudly. Hugs felt great on psychedelics, she had noticed. 

“You helped so much.” (Y/n)’s voice was slightly muffled by Klaus’s chest. She pulled out of Klaus’s chest, speaking again. “I’m gonna go to bed now, if that’s ok, I’m so so tired.” She laughed a little. 

“That’s fine, I’m gonna crash the moment I hit my bed, so..” Klaus smiled down at her, thankful for this mini-him. 

“Night night, Klaus.” (Y/n) and Klaus both separated to head to their rooms, both about to sleep deeply enough to miss a train going through the house. 

The stairs up to her new room were an almost pastel green color, covered by what looked to be years of grime and nicotine stains. It added character, she thought. The checkerboard floor at the top of the stairs seemed to lead her straight to her new room, which she was really thankful for, she was exhausted. 

Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, twisting the old carved crystal just enough to open it. She closed it the same way, with just enough effort for it to work, she could have sworn she saw something blue flash near her, but she doubted herself immediately. Once she plopped on the bed, her fingers dragged her phone across the sheets towards her. 

It took (Y/n) two full minutes to open her phone, not remembering her password and then not being able to type the right letters slowed her down significantly. It wouldn’t matter though, because once she turned on some quiet music, she was fast asleep.

[harrysweasleys]

seven years // h.p

 Summary: Hey! I want to request a harry potter x reader in which the reader is friends with the golden trio since first year (they are the golden quartet) and harry and the reader are in love with each other and during the battle of howarts harry finds time to confess his feelings and finally kiss her passionately. (In a kinda dramatic scenario if it's possible? Somewhat like the romione kiss?) I would love it so much if you write it! Send you a virtual hug! Bye!

Warnings: blood, violence, mentions of death

Word Count: 3k

A/N: this one was fun to write. there isn’t enough harry content out there.

———————————————

FIRST YEAR

Meeting Harry on the train had been an accident. A happy one, yes, but an accident nonetheless. You had tumbled into his compartment, hair disheveled and eyes wide, hoping to find a hiding place from the two red haired boys who were playing pranks on unsuspecting first years.

When you noticed two boys were already sitting there, you made your way to leave, when the dark-haired one called out to you.

“Wait, are you trying to hide?” he had asked, taking in your distressed state.

“Yes,” you nodded, “There are twins, I think they’re twins, throwing little smoke bombs everywhere. I got hit.”

The ginger haired boy sitting across from him groaned, “Oh, those are my brothers.” He smiled apologetically at you and you nodded back.

“You can hide in here, if you want,” the dark haired boy spoke to you again. His eyes were kind, light, and within moments of knowing him, you felt like you could trust him. It was oddly unsettling, but you figured what eleven year old could do any harm?

So you nodded, “Okay.”

And that’s how you got to meet Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, eventually meeting Hermione Granger not long after. The four of you had a strange start to your friendship, defeating a troll to save Hermione, pegging Snape to be a psychopath, and destroying the Philosopher’s Stone.

And that was only your first year.

SECOND YEAR

When the year had started up again, you were practically bubbling with excitement. The three friends you had made in the previous year had been your only source of sanity, really, so getting back to Hogwarts could not come sooner.

When Harry and Ron didn’t arrive on the train, you sat the whole way with Hermione worrying about where they could possibly be. Had they missed it? Were they sitting alone because you had done something wrong?

But, alas, your questions were answered when the two arrived at Hogwarts, looking anxious and exhilarated.

“We took a flying car,” Harry muttered to you once he took his seat next to you in the Great Hall, “Ron’s dad’s car.”

“You — what? A flying car? Were you spotted?” you couldn’t hide the worry you were feeling. If they had been spotted, they could get thrown out of school.

“We got detention,” Harry ignored your question, his body still very tense, “For a month.”

Across the table, you noticed Ron explaining to Hermione the same things Harry was telling you, her face contorting into shock and disbelief as he told his side of the story.

As if the start of the year hadn’t been adventurous enough, students were beginning to drop like flies all around the school with no real explanation.

So, naturally, people suspected Harry.

“I believe you,” you had told him one night after he vented to you about definitely not being involved, “Harry, you know I’ll always believe you. I’m here to help.”

He stopped his blubbering, “Really?”

You grinned at him, “Of course. What are friends for?”

And, true to your word, you stuck by him as you maneuvered the case of the Chamber of Secrets. You had even entered the Chamber with him, helping him escape the Basilisk and saving Ginny’s life.

“You’re the best, y’know?” Harry had asked once Fawkes saved him, his eyelids becoming heavy and his voice slightly slurred, “Thanks for everything.”

“Don’t thank me for being a friend, Harry,” you helped him up, “Now, c’mon, let’s get you to safety.”

THIRD YEAR

Third year was when you realized you were beginning to fall for your best friend. It started on the train, the moment Harry jumped in front of you and took the Dementor head on, unfortunately passing out but luckily getting saved by the new professor.

For weeks, you couldn’t look at him the same. He had been so selfless, so brave, and yet, you knew he was as terrified as the rest of you.

He had grown a lot over the summer too. His hair was longer, messier, and you had to admit, you liked the look.

But only when Harry plummeted nearly a hundred feet off of his broom in a messy Quidditch match did you realize that, yes, indeed, you were falling fast.

“You scared the bloody hell out of me, Harry,” you ran to his bedside once he woke up, his eyes having trouble adjusting to the brightness of the room, “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, brilliant,” he replied, his voice coarse, “Best I’ve ever felt.”

You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped your lips, “Well, you look fantastic.”

He grinned up at you, flashing his teeth, “Thanks for being here, Y/N. Where are the others? Ron and Hermione?”

In truth, Hermione knew about how you had begun to feel towards Harry, so she diverted Ron in order to give you some private time. But you couldn’t tell him that.

“She’s helping him with homework,” you lied casually.

He nodded, “Oh, alright.”

You stood up and sat on the edge of his bed, linking his hand with yours, “I’ll keep you company, though.”

And so you did. While Harry was dealing with the traumatic aftermath of finding Sirius Black, you were by his side, helping him deal with the news that his godfather was actually the good guy. It took him a while to process it, and you were there for him the whole time.

FOURTH YEAR

As if realizing you had feelings for your best friend wasn��t hard enough, in your fourth year, you had to watch Harry fall for another girl. Cho Chang, the talented dark-haired Ravenclaw, had caught his attention on the train and it was clear he had feelings for her.

Hermione had comforted you, making your realize that she didn’t compare to you at all, but it didn’t help how you had felt that entire year.

When Harry and Ron fought, you were by Harry’s side.

“I believe you, I know you didn’t put your name in,” you told him one night when Harry had been feeling particularly low.

“Thanks,” he had responded, “You’re the best.”

But, no matter how much advice you have him, nor how much help you provided, he didn’t see you as more than a friend. So, you figured getting over your feelings would be the way to go.

Hermione had helped you distance yourself from him. When Harry asked about you, she’d change the subject. When Ron asked about you, she told him the truth. You had watched from afar when Hermione and Ron were picked to be the victims in the Second Task, wondering if Harry would ever see you as anything more than his friend.

By the end of the year, Harry found himself deeply missing your presence. It wasn’t the same without you, and Hermione and Ron felt it too.

You approached Harry one night in the hospital wing after the third task, “I’m sorry you had to go through that. To see something so horrible.”

Harry, bloodied and emotionally bruised on the hospital bed, smiled at you, “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled sadly, taking a seat, “I’m sorry about that too. But I’ve never stopped being proud of you, y’know? Always have been and always will be.”

Harry looked at you for a long time, both of you unsure of what to say next, until he spoke up again, “Hermione said you were dealing with something. D’you mind sharing? It’ll help take my mind off of what just happened.”

Feeling incredibly guilty, you tore your eyes away from him, “I’ll tell you one day. This isn’t the time.”

He seemed to accept your answer, but truth be told, he was thankful to have you by his side again and he didn’t want to push you away by pressing you even more.

“I think I’m gonna head back to my dorm, but I’ll be back in the morning, yeah?” you smiled at him, standing up off of your chair and looking towards the door.

“No — can you, uh, can you stay?” his voice was quiet, almost pleading, “I just really need someone here.”

Who were you to deny him that? He had just been through a traumatizing experience — witnessed someone dying in front of him. So, you sucked up your pride and your annoying feelings and sat back down, reaching over and linking his hand with yours.

Your touch seemed to sooth him, his eyes fluttered shut and he smiled softly, “Thank you.”

So you sat by his side, talking through the night and part of the next morning. It was safe to say your feelings weren’t going away any time soon.

FIFTH YEAR

Coming into the year, Harry had been conflicted. Half the people at school believed him, and the other half didn’t.

What he found especially strange, though, was that he didn’t care what anyone though, as long as you were on his side.

“Of course, why would you lie about that?” you had said casually one evening in the common room, “Whoever doesn’t believe you will just have a horrible shock when he shows himself. Can’t say we didn’t warn them.”

Harry grinned at you, “You’re the best.”

“I know,” you grinned back.

You had noticed throughout the year how he had been behaving differently. He always asked your opinion, he hung around with you after DA practices were over, and the two of you even went to Hogsmeade alone one afternoon, sharing a laugh over a butterbeer and reminiscing about the simpler days when your only problem was an escaped Basilisk.

Hermione had tried telling you his change in attitude was because he was falling for you too, but you had found it hard to believe. There was no proof and you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“He hasn’t been asking us how we think he’s doing,” Ron told you, raising his eyebrows, “I have to agree with Hermione here.”

“See, even Ronald agrees,” Hermione smirked.

You wanted to believe them, you really did. But it became hard when Harry hid his feelings and emotions so well.

Which is why, one night when you were finishing up another DA meeting and you had stayed behind to clean up the mess, you had been frozen in place by Harry’s lips lightly pressing against yours.

You had kissed him back, naturally, but it was hard to tell whether this was a ‘I’m feeling lonely’ kiss or a ‘I really like you’ kiss. Both of you had pulled away immediately, staring at each other wide-eyed until you laughed it off.

Neither of you mentioned it to Ron or Hermione, but being intuitive as ever, they were both able to tell something had happened between the two of you.

And that something stayed on your mind all summer. Despite the loss of Sirius, despite the threat of the looming war, all you could think about was Harry and how delicately he had kissed you that night.

You were done for.

SIXTH YEAR

Friendship with Harry had changed drastically. Every time you were together now, you shared lingering touches and playful flirting.

There was still a heavy feeling in the air, none of you guys wanting to address it, but you had fun spending the year flirting and teasing him.

You had cheered him on during Quidditch, gotten close to him during parties, sat next to him during meals, and even classes. He seemed to have eyes only for you, and you for him.

“Told you he liked you back,” Hermione boasted about her prediction, “I’m always right.”

“Chill it,” you chuckled, “He hasn’t said anything about liking me back, exactly. We’ll see.”

Luckily for you, Harry had completely ignored most of the girls who now showed interest in him, his eyes focused on you and only you. It was almost too much for you to handle. He had been so caring, so gentle and kind, you often forgot he was still just a friend.

When he won the Felix Felicis in Potions one afternoon, you wondered if he’d use it to ask you out. He didn’t, but you felt lucky enough having him throw compliments at you and get you flustered. 

It was no question to you that after Dumbledore died, you would follow Harry until the ends of the Earth to hunt down the Horcruxes and defeat the Dark Lord.

Honestly, you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth even if the fate of the Wizarding World wasn’t at stake. He was Harry, your Harry, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him. 

SEVENTH YEAR

The decision to not return to Hogwarts had been unanimous between you, Harry, Ron and Hermione. None of you thought it was a good decision, nor did any of you want to sit back and let Harry deal with this himself. You spent the summer at the Burrow, finally getting to see Harry again after an eventful Polyjuice Potion filled night. 

“We’re always going to be with you, Harry,” you pulled him in for a hug the evening of the wedding as the two of you swayed slowly on the dance floor, “Always.”

“That means so much to me,” he mumbled into your hair, sending shivers down your spine, “Couldn’t do this without you.”

And that’s how you ended up here, months later, fighting on the school grounds. Bodies had been scattered across the grand corridors, the same corridors that you had called home for six years. Bodies of students that you shared classes with, bodies of students you had seen in the Great Hall.

You weren’t sure how this had happened, how this war had become so devastating and crumbling, but you knew there was no way you’d back out. This wasn’t just Harry’s fight, it was yours too.

You ran through the halls, spells bouncing off of walls and screams echoing through the stone walls, your mind set on Harry.

You bumped into Ron on the way, who had his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione, both of them looking pale and bloodied. They seemed worse for wear, but both smiled upon seeing you safe and uninjured.

“Have you guys seen Harry?” your voice was shaky, wand gripped tightly between your fingers.

Ron shook his head, “Not in a while.”

Your heart dropped, “Where could he be?”

“Dunno,” Ron shrugged, scanning his eyes over Hermione once more to make sure she wasn’t seriously injured.

“Well, let’s go find him, then!” you glared at the two of them, not understanding how they could be so nonchalant about the whole situation. They seemed more focused on each other. Which wasn’t a major surprise, you knew they’d end up together, but this wasn’t the time.

As you darted down the main corridor, Hermione and Ron also keeping their eyes peeled, you came to a stop in front of the marble staircase, students screaming and rushing by you going unnoticed.

Harry stood ar the top of the stairs, looking down at you all, his face both grateful and exhausted.

“Harry,” you signed, nudging Hermione and Ron to look over. Both their faces broke out into massive grins as they looked at him, relieved.

Before anyone could do or say anything, you took off up the stairs, stopping only when you reached Harry. He smiled at you, face covered in dirt and blood, but his charming smile was enough to get your heart fluttering.

“Hey,” you breathed out, placing your arms around him and pulling him into a bone crushing hug. You seriously hoped he hadn’t injured any ribs or he’d be in even more pain.

“Y/N,” he sighed in relief, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you just as tightly, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“As am I,” you grinned, pulling away and scanning him, “I was so worried about you. We can’t stay separated from now on, it’s too risky—,”

He cut you off by placing his hands on the back of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. You were stunned, glued to the spot, but you leaned into his touch and kissed back, lips moulding against his. He tasted slightly like blood, but you pushed past it and reeled in the feeling of his touch. Your heart was soaring, your knees threatening to buckle under you as he poured all his feelings into the gesture.

He ran his tongue against your bottom lip before pulling away, eyes clouded and a lazy grin on his lips, “Y/N, I’m in love with you. And I know this isn’t a great time to do this but I just... I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I’ve been crazy about you for two years now.”

“I’ve been crazy about you since third year,” you pressed your forehead against his, letting your eyes flutter shut, “Can’t beat that. I wanted to tell you so long ago but I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same.”

He lifted his forehead away from yours and pressed his lips quickly to yours once more. For someone who had just been through a war, his kiss was surprisingly soft. His hands gripped your waist and yours found their way into his hair.

After the kiss ended, you looked down to Ron and Hermione who were both grinning broadly and shooting you both a thumbs up. Harry chuckled, pulling you in close to him and resting his head against yours. The war surrounding you seemed distant, forgotten even, as you focused on solely him.

“We’ll make it out of this together, yeah?” he asked softly so only you could hear him.

“Yeah, we will.”

And you were right. After the war ended, you and Harry continued your relationship and it blossomed quickly. He had promised to love you, and he did exactly that. He was the most caring, generous and loving person you had ever met and you felt like the luckiest person alive to have him by your side.

You were absolutely smitten for Harry Potter and there was nothing that could possibly be done to change that.

[tl-notes]

Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 2 Notes

Here’s some notes for episode two, too, if you’d care to join me.

The “stay quiet” here is 大人し[い] otonashii, which takes the word for “adult” and adjectivizes it. It’s a common word with a variety of meanings, such as  when something is “behaving” properly and not raising a fuss (from children to computer code to a chronic disease to political forces, all sorts of things) or when something comes across as “mature” (like a clothing design or a young person). 

In this case the idea is that the dragons had chosen to “behave” and mind their own business, which (they seem to assume) led the humans into underestimating them and deciding to attack. (”Stay quiet” probably does a pretty good job of getting that across, but just to fill it out.)

This is 残念ながら zannen nagara, or “unfortunately...”. 

The reason I bring it up here, is that it’s not a particularly intimate way of speaking and leans somewhat formal—potentially implying Ilulu has no more close relatives left to give her this news (and/or maybe her family’s social position is one where other dragons had to treat them with respect).

The second line here is 平常心を保つよ、私は, which is a fairly strong declaration of intent. I kind of feel like “I need to keep a clear head” sounds less confident, like convincing herself “ok bad situation, but if I just do this I’m fine.” In contrast, the Japanese imo is more of a “[Ilulu can do what she may,] but it won’t get it to me either way.” Just a mild point of characterization I suppose.

Just for clarity, she does use the word 雄 osu here, which is the more biological term for “in a sexually reproducing species, the one that produces sperm,” rather than a more gender-based term.

The TV show, シャシャシャシャキーン Sha-sha-sha-shakiin, is a combo reference to irl Saturday-morning kids’ variety show じゃじゃじゃじゃ～ン Ja-ja-ja-jaaN and weekday-morning シャキーン! Shakiin!. 

The former’s name comes from the Japanese equivalent of ta-dah!, while the latter’s comes from the ”sound” for becoming alert, going from relaxed/sleepy/bored/etc. to “wide awake let’s go.” (though not necessarily sleep/wake related)

If you’ve seen these two emoji:

(´・ω・｀)  (｀・ω・´)

The one on the right is the “シャキーン” one, and is the contrast to the gloomy one on the left (ショボーン shobon). Or these, going from asleep to awake:

( ˘ω˘ )ｽﾔｧ…  (｀・ω・´) ｼｬｷｰﾝ

In manga and stuff you’ll also see it used for e.g. someone drawing/brandishing a sword, striking a cool poses with a lens flare, things like that.

I think it gets translated to metallic-y sounds in English fairly often in those cases (like drawing a katana, or a mecha pose), hence the translation above. 

The verb for “frolic” here is じゃれる jareru (no relation to jajaan above), which is like to play/mess around, typically in a physical sense. For example it’s used in the compound word じゃれ合う jareau, which is often used in the same way English might say “playful wrestling” about kids or animals.

Though the word Kobayashi uses is actually a different じゃれる compound, じゃれつく jaretsuku, which is like playfully/affectionately grabbing/cuddling up/etc., (also primarily regarding kids or animals). There’s a bit of overlap with some of the uses of あまえる amaeru mentioned in the last episode’s notes.

Assuming I had the visuals, I’d probably just write this as “Please not on my lap...” or similar. (Kobayashi also uses a different verb conjugation for Tohru vs. Kanna in this scene, ~つくな vs. ~つかないで; Kanna’s being more plead-y compared to Tohru’s more “cut it out!” feel, hence the “please.”)

“Contact” here is “skin-ship,” a portmanteau-esque combination of skin and kinship or relationship. It’s primarily a Japanese word (you won’t find it in English dictionaries typically), but it was apparently coined by an American speaker at an international WHO seminar in 1953 (from which a Japanese attendee brought it back to Japan and it was later popularized). 

The original use of the word was in reference specifically to parent-child physical intimacy, but as it became more widespread in usage the meaning extended to all sorts of relationships, from the platonic to the romantic. 

One reason, presumably, that the term caught on so powerfully in Japan is that it has historically been a very touch-adverse culture (at least compared to say the US), and this extends even to parents with their children after the first few years. You’d see (and still see) psychologists recommend “more skinship” to people, for example.

The relative lack of skinship may partially explain the head pat thing mentioned in last episode’s notes (e.g. when you want to touch your kid, but hugs aren’t on the menu) and things like the old “hand-holding is lewd” meme. (Note this isn’t just me getting all orientalist here; there’s been a good bit of research on the skinship gap, and how it may be shrinking, by Japanese scholars.)

This line is also a bit of foreshadowing that Tohru has realized Kobayashi’s... situation already.

The Japanese here is 心と心でつながった後は体ですよ, which I only really mention because I kinda felt like the English’s “Now...” implied she was saying they only recently ‘connected their hearts,’ which I don’t feel from the Japanese wording and would say is probably not how Tohru thinks. E.g. more of a “Our hearts are already connected; now it’s time for our bodies!” kinda thing.

This 3/3 is March 3rd, which “equals” ♀ because that’s the date of Hinamatsuri, sometimes also referred to as Girl’s Day. The third day of the third month was originally a holiday brought over with the Chinese calendar, and it morphed from a more spring/peaches holiday into it’s more girl-oriented version at some point in the Edo period.

One of the highlights of Hinamatsuri is the doll displays, as pictured in this short bit with the Saikawa sisters. There are various types of displays, but this sort of staircase arrangement is the most common I believe. Each level has a certain type of doll that goes on it, with the top level having an “emperor” and an “empress” doll—which is the pair Riko replaces with dolls of herself and Kanna.

There’s some similarities between these doll displays and stereotypical Christmas trees: a family is likely to have a set of ornaments/dolls they mostly reuse each year, you put them up some time in advance of the actual holiday, then get lazy and leave them up too long put them away for a year after it’s over. A lot of businesses and such will put up displays as well.

“The judge in the underworld” is left vague here and isn’t a specific reference to anything, but is generally in line with the typical “image” of what happens after you die (setting aside actual religious beliefs) in Japan. 

Please see the documentary series Hoozuki no Reitetsu for more info.

As of right now in the anime, Ilulu has only shown up twice, and only once of those when Kobayashi was alone. The implication seems to be that there have been other Ilulu encounters that we haven’t seen. 

Also, for clarity, the Japanese is 私が一人の時にいつもイルルは来るから, which is more of a “whenever I’m alone Ilulu shows up” than a “she only shows up when I’m alone.” (The English could sorta be read either way I think?)

This bit is それだけじゃないって、争い以外もあると思ってくれているからだ。私はそんなトールを信じているから…　だからその為にイルルと和解したい

The main point of contention I have with this English is that it implies Kobayashi wants Tohru and Ilulu to make up. However, I’d say this is more Kobayashi wanting to come to terms with Ilulu herself (and just by extension Tohru/the other dragons/maybe other humans). 

That is, by making peace between herself the human and the “hostile” dragon Ilulu, she’d be helping prove Tohru’s belief correct—and she has faith in Tohru that it is (see also last season finale).  

(Notably while Tohru is Chaos faction herself, there’s not really been another Chaos dragon yet to be convinced like this. Kanna is no-faction, Fafnir is technically no-faction even if Chaos-ish, Quetzalcoatl is an observer, Elma is Harmony, and Tohru’s father is an exception on multiple levels.)

Without getting too deep into the “why,” one quick thing I’ll point out is that she says 和解したい wakai shitai, not してほしい shite hoshii or させたい sasetai etc., meaning it’s something she wants to do herself, not want/make someone else do. Generally speaking you can’t use the ~たい “want to” form for anyone but yourself (you don’t know what anyone else is thinking, after all), unless quoting them, asking, or in the ~がる “seems to want to” form.

This is a 防犯ブザー bouhan buzaa, a crime-prevention buzzer, also known as a personal or self-defense alarm. They emit a very loud sound when activated. The idea is you, well, use it like she does here, when someone is trying to do a crime to you.

Since most Japanese children walk to school, it’s extremely common for these devices to given to students (either by parents or a gov’t body). It’s technically recommended for adults to carry them too, though the advent of the mobile phone has driven down carry rates.

This particular one was probably purchased in episode four of season one, if you want to rewatch and see why!

This is 私にぶつけたい気持ちでもあるの？in the Japanese.

The verb for “tell” is ぶつける butsukeru, an evocative word meaning ~to slam against (somewhat similar to “vent” in English when used with emotions/feelings). 

The “something” is 気持ち kimochi, ~emotion/feeling/thought.

So the Japanese here feels a lot more expressive than "something you want to tell me,” I would say (that could just as easily be a translation of 話したいこと). That said it’s not an easy thing to express in English within the confines of the format here, especially if you want to keep the “target = ‘me’” part.

It might feel somewhat like “You got something bottled up you wanna hit me with?”, though I doubt if I’d use that either.

As a side note, the manga has Kobayashi say an extra line after this, about being the “main tank” to take her “hate” (Japanese for “aggro” in MMOs). 

A small note that “that girl and that boy” is あの子とあの子 ano ko to ano ko, so no gender specification in the Japanese (it’s a good language for talking about people without specifying a gender!).

“Next time” here is 今度 kondo, which is an interesting word because you can situationally use it for “recently,” “this time,” “next time,” or “soon.” 

The reason I bring it up here is the English “next time,” personally, leaves me thinking “Was there a previous time? What ‘next’ do you mean?”—just a heads up that that’s not really an issue in the original line.

Also: this whole extended scene with Kobayashi saving Ilulu is one of the “many senses” mentioned in the episode title. (see also episode one notes re ikemen)

As an aside, this "play” is じゃれ合い jareai, the noun form of the jareau that was mentioned in the above “frolic” note.

If you were wondering: “Do dragons use paper?”, the word here is 形骸化 keigai-ka, (almost) lit. ~reduced to bones, meaning something that once was strong/effective is now basically just a formality. It’s similar to the phrase “dead letter” in reference to old laws that aren’t really enforced anymore.

So two potential points of ~lore relevance~ here: 1) the rules probably used to be enforced, 2) we have no evidence (either way, from this) that they actually have them on paper somewhere.

こりゃトールの父ちゃんは本格的に優しかったみたいだな

This might just be me reading too much into the English (again), but one difference in nuance between these two lines is that the English has Kobayashi implying Tohru’s dad “seemed” kind (which implies he’s not really kind, just kind in contrast to this villain), while the Japanese is more taking this as evidence that Tohru’s dad was actually being kind (see also last season finale).

For those wondering if the みたい in that line would imply a “seems”: it sort of does, but it applies across the whole observation here. I.e. “seems Tohru’s father was genuinely nice” vs. “making Tohru’s father seem genuinely nice” (which I’d guess would probably use 優しく見えてくる or something). 

When you see “underestimate” in anime, most of the time it’s なめる nameru. It comes from the verbified archaic adjective 無礼し nameshi, meaning a combination of looking down on, acting rude towards, etc., and uses the same characters as “rude” (though often written in hiragana/katakana).

It also is a homonym of the verb “to lick,” so “Don’t underestimate humans” sounds identical to “Don’t lick humans.”

“Functional member of society” is 社会人 shakaijin, ~lit. person of society, which is a very commonly used word to refer to basically anyone who is an active member of society. It includes homemakers, so it’s not strictly “has a job at a company,” but in many contexts it’s used like “people with jobs” versus “students and NEETs.”

(Not that there’s anything wrong with the translation, just some extra context.)

A technique reminiscent of this shadow puppet silhouette style was also used in Hyouka, another Kyoani show and one directed by the late Series Director Takemoto Yasuhiro. 

I kind of feel like yelling “Stay with me!” at someone injured is something you do when they’re in danger of fading away, not when they’re waking back up? Maybe that’s just me.

The Japanese is お気を確かに o-ki wo tashika ni, a polite (since Tohru almost always speaks kinda formally to Kobayashi, as part of the maid thing) way of saying “pull/hold it together,” and is used in a variety of situations.

Kanna’s line is a question (e.g. like “are you okay?”) in the Japanese here, whereas the English sounds more like something you say to someone who’s injured to try to reassure them. 

This line is その子離れようとしないんです sono ko hanareyou to shinai n desu.

The English is a pretty literal translation: hanareru is the verb for leaving/separating (in some senses), and the ~you conjugation means “try to ~”. However, that conjugation also has a second use in just indicating intent—especially when used in the negative, like here—so e.g. “She didn’t want to leave your side,” or “She wouldn’t leave your side at all.”

（◎Д◎）

Just in case: this is an emoji for expressing shock. 

One thing that is left out of the English in this line is the だけ dake, “only.” 

So Kobayashi’s not necessarily surprised at this by itself, but in contrast to the fact that Tohru says she probably can hide her claws/tail (so why not this too?). 

The base phrase Tohru is saying here is 私たちの仲じゃないですか, which roughly means “that’s just our relationship,” and is used commonly when being thanked for doing a favor for someone close. It’s similar in meaning to something like “hey of course, no problem, I know you’d do the same for me.”

Tohru puts a little spin on it by adding the “eternal” to make it 永遠の仲, which is a separate phrase that means probably what you’d think it means.

This quick cut to Tohru’s feet and the light “foot pop” motion... I have a hard time believing it’s anything but the director trying to give some subtle “goodbye kiss when leaving for work” vibes, even if they aren’t literally kissing. Just me?

Here she says あのトール ano Tohru, lit. “that Tohru,“ which in this sort of context carries a meaning similar to using an italicized “that” in English: not just any Tohru, but that Tohru, the famous one. The implication is that yes indeed Tohru is well-known among other dragons—and known to be quite strong and merciless.

It’s not a particularly big deal, but technically this is 人間と, i.e. Living with.

The ball hands thing is generally thought of as “Doraemon hands” in Japan. Doraemon gets the name from the food “dorayaki,” but “Dora” is also how you pronounce the first two syllables in “Dragon” (ドラゴン doragon).

Keep this in mind.

挨拶 (あいさつ) aisatsu, often translated as “greeting(s)”, is a lot bigger of a thing culturally for Japan than it might be for where you live. Though translated as “greetings” it also includes farewells and more. Basically a general term for “in X situation, say Y” style semi-set phrases.

In more traditionally minded companies, for example, employees are often expected to give a rote ohayou gozaimasu when they arrive (even if they think no one is around to hear it), and may get chewed out for not doing so or half-assing it. Then when passing someone in the hallway etc., an otsukare-sama desu, and yet another phrase when leaving for the day. Also the ittekimasu and itterasshai (when leaving home/saying bye to them) or tadaima and okaeri (returning home/welcoming back) that probably many anime-watchers are familiar with. Even itadakimasu is an aisatsu. 

Obviously every culture utilizes “greetings” like this, but in Japan they’re pretty heavily ritualized and treated as a cornerstone of human relations, a key part of showing respect for your fellow humans (even people you hate!) and ensuring the smooth working of society. It’s not the thing they chose to have Tohru put first in her “living with humans [in Japan]” notebook for nothing!

The English “the” is a popular word to use in Japanese as an intensifier, similar to how it’s used in a sentence like “this isn’t just an [example], it’s the [example]!” 

It’s usually pronounced “za” and often written that way in katakana (ザ) for this usage. (If you type “za” in a Japanese IME, most will offer up “the” as one of the options to convert the text to, even.) 

The word she says here is 喝 katsu, which, in this sense, is a stereotypical thing for a Zen teacher to say to a student as a stand-in for explaining some deep Zen concept that words can’t describe. So here, it’s kinda like “Yes this may seem contradictory, but really it’s just too complicated for you! No more questions!” 

Obviously that’s oversimplified and it’s used in other ways too (see Saikawa’s father during the sports festival), but just for the purposes of this joke, there you have it.

The word used in the Japanese here is 建前 tatemae. If you’ve ever studied any Japanese, you’ve likely heard about honne vs. tatemae, your inner feelings vs. the front you put up for social reasons. 

People new to the language are sometimes prone to approaching that distinction with “well why doesn’t everyone just honne all the time, why play games?”, but of course almost everyone splits themselves like this. You probably hate your boss, but you also probably don’t tell them that to their face to avoid getting fired. Or maybe you have some family members you can’t stand, but act nice around anyway because it’s not worth the trouble to start fights. 

Japan just put names to the idea, and maybe leans a little more toward encouraging tatemae in more situations.

This is せいぜい悩むんですね.

せいぜい seizei as an adverb means doing something to utmost extent one is capable of. You’ve likely heard it from a villain somewhere saying something like “Struggle all you like, wahaha!”. 

Though it’s not necessarily down-talky like that, in modern times that is the trend (you can use it for yourself no problem, but if used to talk about someone else’s actions it may come off as belittling). Tohru, as one of the strongest beings in the setting and with the pride to match, uses it a lot.

悩む nayamu is to worry, fret, ruminate over (some difficulty etc.).

The sentence in general is one that is highly context dependent, but here it’s Tohru thinking to herself, somewhat impressed, that Ilulu is actually putting serious thought into the question of what she wants to do with her life. 

And, as the background suggests, finding it surprisingly adorable/admirable; up until just a few days ago, Ilulu was known as one of the most extremist Chaos faction dragons obsessed with nothing but destruction, yet look at her now. In a way, Tohru’s taken over an older sister kind of role for her.

(For the curious, if the ね was dropped or swapped to a よ here, that would imply she was directing the comment “at” Ilulu, rather than saying it in observation.)

The word here is 契る chigiru, which usually means to swear/pledge (e.g. swear a pact, pledge your love), but can also be a somewhat fancy word for having sex, especially of a married couple.

I feel like I personally would have used more of a euphemism for the translation.

The phrase here is ダメの助 dame-no-suke, where dame is no/bad/can’t do/useless, and (no)suke is a common ending to first names; both actual names and sort of on-the-spot nicknames; someone looking sleepy might be called a 寝坊助 nebou-suke in the same way as “sleepyhead.”

Or, as here, sticking to the end of things for comedic effect or as indication of a panicked/confused thought process.

（ ° ρ ° ）

Just in case: this one is also expressing shock, but a kind of dumbfounded shock. The ρ is a drooling, slack-jawed mouth.

In the next episode preview they talk about where Ilulu will sleep, since they don’t have room for another bed. Ilulu wants to sleep in the closet—or more specifically, the 押し入れ oshi-ire, which is a particular closet layout you’ll find in many Japanese bedrooms. 

The typical difference is that an 押し入れ was originally designed for 和室 washitsu, traditional-style Japanese rooms with tatami floors, primarily as storage space for folded-up futon/blankets/pillows, as you would put those away during the day to free up space. Thus they typically are rather wide, mildly deep, and have a waist-height, solid horizontal divider capable of supporting a lot of weight. 

They actually are pretty okay for sleeping in if you’re not claustrophobic or tall.

Anyway, I bring this up because you know who else very famously sleeps in one of these? That’s right: Doraemon.

[m-y-fandoms]

Rantarou Amami x Ultimate Writer - FLUFF

Request: Hi! Your writing is incredible ^^ I was wondering if you could write Rantaro with an Ultimate Essay Writer s/o, maybe comforting them when they're up late writing? I hope that's okay, and thank you :D

Hey! Sure I can do this! But, I wanna make it just the Ultimate Writer. I’m an english writing major myself IRL, and I have to write essays, non-fiction, emails, resumes, letters, instructional guides, graphic novels, fiction, poetry etc. so they will definitely have essay-writing skills anyway. Ultimate Writer just makes it easier. I hope you don’t mind :) - Admin Kokichi

     "Nnnn!" You gritted your teeth in frustration, "NNNGGHH!" Your arm was stretched to its extent, reaching up with all your might. The shelf above was just out of reach. Your fingertips scraped against the spine of the thick brown book above you, but strain as you might, it wasn’t budging, firm and snug against the others on the shelf. "Gah!" You puffed in anger, clenching your fists. Why did the books you wanted from the basement library always have to be so high up? You needed this particular text as a reference for your next piece. 

     It was going to be a throwaway letter, a confession written to express your feelings then set them free by burning it later. It didn’t matter, really, what you wrote at this point. Anything to get your mind off of all of… this. In this killing game, your writing was the only thing that brought you comfort. You stayed up every night scrawling until your wrist cramped up. Your Monopad had a notes section to type in, but you much rather stick to the traditional ways. The lack of sleep and endless output of creative thought was starting to weigh on you, and now it looked like you weren’t even getting this damn book today, “Man, this blows…” You sighed deeply. "AH!" You jumped, startled when a large, ring-clad hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, bracelets jangling in your ear. Soon, you felt someone's broad chest against your back. The hand grabbed the book you wanted and brought it down. You turned around with your hand on your chest, still a little jumpy. "Oh, phew… Rantarou, it's just you."

      "Yeah,” he chuckled gently, “here ya go Y/N." There stood your crush, the rich playboy with a heart of gold. You felt your cheeks go warm. He was often in the library, and you relished every moment you got to spend glancing over your shoulder at him while we has up to his usual antics of planning traps or researching new ways to interrogate your classmates until someone was spooked into admitting their position as the mastermind. Once in a while, he would read for pleasure, and at first you felt like an asshole for being surprised by that. You judged him too early on, seeing a flawless face and a suave personality and assuming he would be the popular kid archetype you’d seen in many an awful young adult novel. The more you got to know him, the more he revealed himself to be highly intelligent, well-rounded, considerate, empathetic, and extremely attractive.

     "Thanks, Rantarou," you looked down, placing the book under your arm.

     "No problem… it's not everyday I get to do something useful for someone else here," he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. You laughed too, looking him up and down. 

      “That’s not true!” you countered. “You’re always helping us all out. You give great advice, too!”

      “Well, I try to help, but I’m sure it hasn’t escaped everyone’s notice that none of my plans have really... taken off,” he gestured, moving his hand in a soaring-upward motion. “Also, with me not rememberin’ my talent and all… I kinda have become the expendable background character, yeah?” His eyes crinkled closed with a kind smile.

      He laughed again to fill the silence of the dark, empty library. You giggled. You always thought it was cute how could be so humble, looking the way he did, sounding the way he did. He had been that way ever since you’d met him, and are far as you were concerned, it seemed genuine. You couldn’t really trust anyone in this killing game, but you trusted Rantarou. Even in the library past midnight, where no one would know if you ended up dead, you trusted Rantarou.

      "Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to scare you," he leaned against the bookcase, arms crossed.

      "Nah, it's fine. You helped me out, so I forgive you..." You joked, playfully punching his shoulder. He smiled a bit sheepishly, an expression you didn’t see often in the confident male.

      "Yeah I… haha," He fiddled with a book nearby," I didn't think anyone would be here. I always come at night. Surprisingly, it's pretty boomin’ here during the day, so I come later on to avoid the hassle of a crowded space." You understood completely. Rantarou was always secretive about his plans.

      “I know, I see you here sometimes,” you mused.

      “Oh, really? I usually sit behind the back shelves, so I guess i didn’t notice you. You’re pretty quiet, huh? Maybe I should be watchin’ my back for you, huh?” He snickered

      "I was having the same thought, isn't that weird?" He looked at you with alarm. “I’m kidding!” To that, he relaxed a bit. "So, watcha reading?"

      "Oh, um," He gestured behind him to the aforementioned back shelf "I’m set up back there reading. It's just some old, boring, textbook information on one of the small countries I’ve visited. I thought it'd be interesting, but..."

      "Yeah, sounds like it," You looked at him with genuine interest, and he smiled in appreciation.

      "Wait, really?!"

      "Yeah, why wouldn't it be? I think it’s super cool that you’re well-traveled. I guess that’s why you and Korekiyo get along so well, huh?" His feet shuffled in silent excitement at your shared enthusiasm. He bit his lip playfully, and your eyes grew shiny in admiration. He was so adorable.

      He noticed your change in expression and coughed, frowning a little in embarrassment. You tried to change the subject, to make him comfortable again.

      "H-hey, Rantarou?"

      "Hmm?" He looked up from the ground eagerly.

      "You're gonna be up reading all night, right? Well.. I will be, too, and... it’s harder for someone to kill us with four eyes on the lookout..."

      "Yeah?"

      "So, you wanna maybe sit with me here at my table? The vents reach this side of the library better so it’s a bit warmer... haha, it's... it's kinda cold in here," You pulled your uniform’s turtleneck tighter around yourself, shaking a little. Rantarou immediately accepted. He wasn’t about to pass up an invitation from his crush.

     “Hell yeah, sounds great! I’ll go grab my stuff, but, hey, I’ve noticed I hardly ever see you in the dorms… you know you gotta sleep, right?” He had a concerned look on his face, and your heart of course fluttered at his attention to detail and knowledge of your habits, but you didn’t want him worrying about you when he had his own safety to look out for.

      “Well, I appreciate the concern, but I’d much rather spend time with you than be in my dorm alone worrying.” He seemed to blush at your words, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far, until he agreed, and rushed over to grab his reading material.

~

      You sighed deeply, a yawn slipping out once or twice. At least two hours had passed since you and Rantarou set up your little corner and there he still sat, in the wooden chair across from yours, never looking up at you from his book. A peaceful, relaxed look glazed his face. He had been that way almost the whole time, but you could sense him becoming a bit antsy. Maybe he was just tired?

      You were both fast readers, so by now you had already read the best sections of your own books and switched. He now sat reading the yellowed pages of the book you selected: an eclectic compilation of 16th century romance literature, and you were now five chapters into his text on the different ethnic groups of some far-off land.

      “Hmm… heh,” he shook his head amusedly.

      “What?” Your head shot up anxiously, fearing he was judging your choice of genre.

       “It’s just... some of this is extremely cheesy and cliche. You’d think the old masters would have done a little better.” He lifted the book in a referencing gesture.

      “Ah, yes, I noticed that as well. I was hoping for a little inspiration, but… it seems Monokuma isn’t the best curator of quality literature.” He nodded in agreement, seemingly stuck on a thought. You could see him stare into space for a second before continuing.

      “Inspiration for what… may I ask?” He pressed, waiting with bated breath for your reply. You felt your feathers start to ruffle, the borders of your comfort zone being invaded by the enemy. You didn’t know if you should answer honestly. The letter was a throwaway for a reason…

      “I was going to write a letter…” it slipped out, and you quickly regretted it. Apparently, your brain had decided to take the lead for you. You never recalled yourself being so forward or brave.

      “Why do you need sonnets and romance novels to write a letter? Planning to sweet talk Monokuma into freeing us?” He chuckled somewhat teasingly, but his haughty words slowly faded to silence upon noticing the wet shine in your nervous eyes, the way your fingers played with the corner of the book as a distraction for your discomfort.

      “No…” You coughed, clearing your throat. Rantarou looked away, running a hand through his green shaggy locks. He knew what the letter was for, of course, who it was for. He was a bit nervous, too, eager to play off the tension in the room with humor, but it wasn’t working. He was wondering why you were so apprehensive, so sullen at his inquiry. You two flirted almost every day… did you seriously need to worry about his reaction? Did you think he didn’t like you back? “I-It’s… well it was going to be a um… a confession of sorts… just to get my feelings down on paper and off my chest. Then I was gonna burn it afterward to set those feelings free!” You smiled weakly, betraying your lack of confidence.

      “Nah, you should give it to him- them!” He corrected himself, dropping the most obvious hint he could. You still didn’t look convinced, a bit oblivious.

      “Y-you think so?”

      “For sure, no doubt. Whoever that letter is meant for,” he leaned in to you, clasping his calloused hands around yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the contact, and you were left speechless, fearing any words spoken now would come out as idiotic babbling, “they are gonna love it. Trust me.” His eyebrows rose with emphasis, and he shot you one of his iconic, heart-melting smiles.

[jadedjxsung]

‘heather’ - h.h.j

i am sad and am listening to conan gray’s new album kid krow - this is inspired by ‘heather’ from that album. listen to it. it’s sad and i cry a little bit every time because i kinda relate to it too with my actual friends... anyway. this is kinda like me fictionally venting about it but through fanfic so i hope you enjoy this angst.

genre: angst, angst, angst. highschool au.

tw/cw: swearing, alcohol (kinda underage drinking? tbh i’m assuming they’re all above 18 so idk guess it depends on the laws where you live, where i am it’s 18)

pairing: hyunjin x reader i guess? kinda but also not really. you’ll see what i mean when you read the story.

just over 3k words

-

it was the third of december, a sunday, approximately 4pm. you and your best friend (whom you were definitely, absolutely not in love with) were hanging out at his house, having spent most of the day watching movies in the pillow fort you had made in his living room. your phone buzzed beside you, under the soft mink blanket.

“i gotta head home now.” you sat up, stretching, looking down at him. 

he was pouting. (god it just made him more adorable-) “come on, five more minutes?”

“i can’t jinnie, my grandparents from out of town are visiting and mum wants me there to see them.” he sighed. 

“argh, fine.” you both crawled out of the fort, and you reached the front door. opening it, a cold wind blew in. you were in a somewhat thin t-shirt. “take my sweater.” before you could even attempt to protest, he’d whipped the black sweater off and threw it at you. it landed over your head. you pulled it over your body, instantly swamped in the soft material. (it smelled just like him too, you tried to ignore the way it made your heart race.)

“thanks.” 

“you’re welcome. it looks better on you.” he grinned. you hugged briefly, and then began the walk home, head spinning as you tried to remember to breathe. after the dinner with your grandparents, you sat in your room, in his sweater, inhaling the scent and playing with the sweater paws. you fell asleep with a soft smile on your face.

-

it was the end of the winter holidays, spring rapidly approaching. school was back, and you and hyunjin were sitting in the cafeteria during lunch with your friends. it was loud, the mass of teenagers chatting loudly. you were listening to felix as he was talking about what had happened in drama, recreating the scene with jisung. you glanced at hyunjin, soft smile on his pretty face. it disappeared as he began staring, a look you’d never seen on his face before. you followed his gaze, hitching your breath at who he was (now very obviously) staring at. he was completely mesmerized.

of course it was a girl. admittedly a very beautiful one, clearly a new student. imagine, the definition of the soft girl aesthetic - perfect, slightly curled brown hair, oversized pale pink knitted sweater, half-tucked into light blue mom jeans rolled up at the ankle, white adidas finishing the look. round frame glasses, and the perfect smattering of freckles over her nose and cheekbones.

perfect, perfect, perfect. 

picture perfect.

as she walked past your table, you glanced at hyunjin. he was, as felix would say, ‘absolutely whipped’ - heart eyes, mouth slightly agape, relaxed facial expression.

you quickly exhaled. “shut your mouth before you start drooling.” you snapped.

he jolted out of his daydream at your sudden sharp tone. “shit, was i staring?”

“you’re whipped, bro.” 

“she’s sitting alone, i’ll go talk to her.” he got up quickly, moving away from your table. you observed his body language - you could imagine him giving her that charming smile, while it wasn’t as pretty has the one where his eyes crinkle up, it was still infectious and entrancing at the same time.

“sorry, y/n.” jisung murmured in your ear. though he was smiling, his eyes said otherwise. he knew how you felt about your mutual friend and was always sympathetic towards you.

“we’ll see how long this one lasts, i guess.” you shrugged. something was different about this one, you could tell. it used to be more puppy love, but this looked more like real, romantic love. and it kind of scared you a little bit.

“i’m gonna go to the library.” you got up, bag slung over one shoulder, putting on a podcast (welcome to night vale, a long time favourite of yours) as you sat down. you pulled out your english book and a sharpie, idly doodling patterns and writing down quotes as you hear them. you had a free period after lunch, so you stayed there until the end of the day, the covers of your english, history, calculus, physics, chemistry, and music book covers were completely covered in drawings, and you had little sharpie smudges all along your hands and arms.

-

things had been getting better for hyunjin (and worse for you) - he shared a few classes with the girl he learned was from england, called heather. and she was all he talked about - until she began sitting with your group during breaks. 

“hey, y/n, i know you missed english yesterday so i copied my notes for you.” she smiled, passing you a few pages of paper as everyone met at your table. even her writing was neat and tidy, everything laid out nicely. your notes were exactly the opposite of this, being an incomprehensible mess. jisung had already given you his notes, so you folded them and shoved them into your bag. more ashes for the fireplace, you supposed.

“thanks.” you forced a smile. “much appreciated.”

“no problem!” god, her smile was perfect too. perfect teeth. it made you seethe on the inside. and, she’d taken your usual spot at the edge of the table, across from hyunjin; now you sat sandwiched between jisung and felix. while their antics still made you laugh, it was getting harder to pretend to smile at hyunjin and heather. picture perfect heather. she was everything you were not - twice as pretty as you, and kind too. it just made you more bitter.

you sighed, relieved when the bell rang to indicate the end of lunch - and you were the fastest to leave, too. music went by faster than usual, as you were practicing for your solo pieces. as you were leaving, you saw hyunjin walking by himself.

this was a rare opportunity, and so you seized it.

“hey, jinnie. movie night at mine?”

he shook his head. “sorry y/n, i’m busy. heather and i are gonna be going to...” as soon as he shook his head you sighed, regretting asking. you didn’t bother to listen to his short spiel.

“that’s okay.”

“what about next wednesday? we can hang out at mine?”

“yeah, sure!” it was the first thing that had you looking forward to being around hyunjin in a while.

-

the next day, you didn’t see hyunjin or heather until lunch. you nearly turned on your heel and walked out.

heather was wearing one of hyunjin’s sweaters - of course it wasn’t just any old sweater either. one of his favourites, a bright yellow one that you had bought for him about a year ago. of course he would give her that one. fucking typical.

you breathed in and out a few times to try and calm yourself down. at least it’s polyester, right? not like the woolen one he gave you.

your breathing didn’t really work - you sat down, (accidentally) slamming your drink bottle on the table.

“you good?” jisung asked gently. you shook your head slightly. “do you want to go outside?”

“please.” you both got up, exiting the cafeteria with your bags. it was cool outside, and overcast. you both walked across the field, sitting at a picnic table.

“what’s happened?”

“she’s wearing the sweater i bought for him, like, a year ago.”

his expression softened. “oh...”

“yeah. god- i just- i...” you buried your face in your cold hands. silently, jisung hugged you as you began to cry.

“i can try talking to him if you want.”

“i-it’s okay, there’s probably no point.”

“you never know, i’ll ask him about the sweater for you.”

“much appreciated.” you sighed. you two stayed in that position for some time. he looked up, behind you, seeing felix approaching.

“felix is coming over, is that cool?”

“yeah, yeah.”

“hey, uhh, i wanted to see if y/n was okay.” he sat down at the table, across from you both.

“i’m not, but thanks for showing concern, lix.”

“can i ask why?”

you sighed. “long story short, i have liked hyunjin for years and he’s basically in love with heather and she’s currently wearing the sweater i bought him a year ago.”

“yikes.”

“mhm...” you sat slumped for several minutes. for the rest of lunch, jisung and felix sat with you. while they still cracked jokes here and there, it was strange for them to be as quiet as they were.

-

you felt a little better now that felix and jisung both made the extra effort to try and cheer you up. hangout sessions with them both were quite common - though today it was wednesday and you were looking forward to hanging out with hyunjin. just you two. no perfect heathers to distract your best friend. 

waiting outside the main building for him, you saw him and walked over. “oh, hey y/n!” he smiled at you. the eye crunch one. your heart instantly a puddle on the ground.

“hey, hyunjin.” you began walking to his place, and it was just like old times - plenty of teasing and hyunjin being overdramatic while you rolled your eyes at his antics. all was well and you felt the happiest you’d been in some time. 

all was well.

two minutes past seven, you and hyunjin were in his room, doing your own thing, occasionally showing each other memes or tiktoks. a knock on the door caused you to flinch slightly. of course, being his bestfriend of several years meant that you had been interrupted by both of his parents knocking on the door numerous times; this was an unfamiliar knock.

and who comes into the room, but perfect heather. with her perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect handwriting, perfect everything. 

“oh, hi y/n! sorry to interrupt, i’m happy to leave-” 

“it’s fine, see-”

“no, no, no, you can stay if you’d like.” hyunjin beamed.

“are you sure? i wouldn’t want to impose.”

“it’s fine.” you got up, walking towards the door, glaring at hyunjin. “i was just about to leave.” as the weight of your schoolbag met your shoulder, you shut the door. firmly. god, how you wanted to hit him sometimes. 

-

a week and a few days later, and here you are at 1am on a saturday morning, dissociating at a party, hosted by jisung’s friend chan. you’re sitting on an armchair in the corner, with chan’s dog sitting by your feet, head on your lap while you gently patted it and scratched behind it’s ears. it was loud, and not your scene, and you hate it, but someone had to look out for slightly intoxicated jisung and felix and you didn’t like the idea of them doing something stupid (which was a very likely thing to occur if you weren’t there to supervise them). 

your charges are sitting on a couch with changbin, not too far from where you were, only two or so metres away. on another couch, hyunjin and perfect heather, as well as minho and another dude they were friends with that you recognised from class but didn’t know the name of. (jeongoon? no, jeongin.)

you shift your gaze from jeongin (jeongoon??) to hyunjin and heather. he has one arm around her shoulder. almost like phantom pain, you shiver, suddenly feeling cold. he used to do that with you. emphasis on used to.

you sit, patting chan’s dog (whose eyes are drooping, you feel exactly the same), wallowing in your bitterness. it makes you sad. in any other circumstance, you’d probably be good friends with her. she’s the definition of an angel, yet something about her makes you tick. she’s such an angel but you dislike her. immensely. not hate. it was a shame, really.

it is also a shame that with the blue and red lighting, it falls perfectly on hyunjin’s features, making him seem more ethereal. oh, how you wish you were in heather’s position. if you were in her place, you would’ve kissed him, right there. (after years of nearly doing it but stopping at the last second before he noticed and anything happened.) he’s three metres away from you, but you can picture his face close-up. he’d look so much better up close. how you wish you were heather. 

gently lifting the dog’s head from your lap (quietly apologising to it too), you stand in front of jisung and felix. 

“i’m leaving. don’t die. text me when you get home.”

jisung pouts. “aww, do you have to leave?”

“i’m not really having fun, there’s no point in me being here.” jisung stood up quickly, clinging to your shoulder as he sways slightly.

“i’ll walk you home, it’s dangerous out there, y/n. big scary spiders and shit.” his eyes are glassy and wide.

“no. no, you stay here, ji, have fun. i’ll be fine.” you force a smile for the boy clinging to you, not unlike a koala. 

“but what if like- a huge fuckin’ spider eats you?! what would i do without my y/n?” 

you chuckle at his antics. “you’re probably more likely to get me eaten by a big spider than to protect me from one, you idiot.” 

a new voice caused you to tense up a little bit. “i’ll walk them home, you stay here jisung.” 

the dark haired boy loosens his grip. “okay, if hyunjin’s walking you home that’s fine. but you should definitely not tell him anything y/n.” he sat back down again, almost like nothing had happened. hyunjin follows you out of chan’s place, nearly losing you a few times as you quickly picked your way through the crowd. 

you stand on the footpath outside as he approaches you. silently, you walk together for about five minutes, both lost in your own thoughts.

“i feel like we hardly talk anymore, y/n.”

you huff, shoving your hands further into your jacket pockets. “i wonder why.”

“well, why?” he ignores your sarcasm.

“heather.”

“what about her?”

your feet stop. you exhale sharply. this had been going on for long enough, and internally apologise to jisung for doing the exact opposite of what he told you to do. 

“you want to know? fine, i’ll tell you. i have been in love with you for years but have been too afraid to say it, when you had these little crushes on others and always having these short little flings with them but it didn’t matter because you always came back to me. then perfect heather turns up and you very obviously fall in love with her which is fair enough, and i feel horrible because she’s so perfect and lovely but i can’t help but despise her because she’s the one you love, not me. and it breaks my heart because you’re both so nice and she doesn’t deserve me being an asshole to her like this but i can’t help it, her perfection just irritates me in ways that i can’t describe. 

it’s like you replaced me, but with the perfect girl that you fell in love with while i sit in the corner, upset and bitter, because i am ultimately a coward who doesn’t know how to confess to their best friend. also, you gave her the sweater i bought you, the yellow one, but clearly don’t remember that because i’m just not that important to you anymore. everything is heather, heather, heather, with you and regardless of the romantic feelings, i miss you and want to know what happened to my best friend.” 

your heavy breathing after your rant filled the silence. 

“y/n i...”

“look, you don’t have to respond. i just needed you to hear that. i’m tired of trying to hide how i feel.” you turn on you heel and began walking quickly - your house was only a block away. curse hyunjin and his long legs.

“look, i’m sorry, y/n. i am so sorry that you feel like that. i’m sorry that i became so focused on one person. i’m sorry i can’t return your feelings, but i still love you as a friend. can we still be friends?”

you stop again, keeping your gaze towards the ground. “i don’t know if i can ever see you as just a friend.”

“so... no?”

you breathe in. “no, hyunjin. we can’t be friends.” you look up at him. you’d never seen him look this broken, this tormented, and it was because of you. you hold your arms out, and he falls into your embrace. you can tell by the way he’s breathing and the quiet sniffles that he’s crying on your shoulder.

-

it is the 3rd of march, a saturday at approximately 2am. you and your former best friend (who you are very much in love with) are embracing for the last time in the middle of the street, almost but not quite outside your house. your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket, repeatedly. 

“you better pick that up.” hyunjin said softly, pulling away from you, forcing a smile. it makes your heart twinge at the sight. nothing like the radiant ones you are used to, that you might never get to see up close again.

you sigh when you saw the caller id, answering anyway. “jisung, what?”

“you should be home by now y/n. are you safe? did you tell hyunjin anything? i hope he protected you from big spiders and shit.” he was slurring his words a little bit - clearly he’d had a bit more to drink since you’d left.

“i’m almost home, ji. he protected me from all the spiders.” 

“okay well, that’s good. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“yep. stay safe.” you hang up and sigh, looking back at hyunjin. “look after him and felix for me, please.”

“i will.”

“thank you, hyunjin. you’re a wonderful person.” you begin to walk down the street, looking back when you reach your front door. you glance back, and see his dark figure, slowly walking down the street. you slip in your house quietly, and manage to hold your tears in until you reach your room. you sit on your bed, in his sweater, crying into the sweater paws. eventually, sleep takes over your body, your face sticky with tears.

[shreddedparchment]

Shattered Glass Epilogue

07/15/2019

Pairing: Tony x Reader, Steve x Reader     Word Count: 5,638

Masterpost  Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, language, angst, water balloons

A/N: Guys...did you really think that I could just leave the story like that?! lol I had to stop writing because it was 4am when I finished both chapter two and three but there was always going to be an epilogue and one of you guessed what it was kinda going to turn into! Maybe I’m becoming predictable? Either way, I hope you enjoy this final piece of this angsty puzzle. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You’d always assumed your little slice of heaven would look a certain way.

After losing your parents, all you’d ever wanted was to feel warm and safe. Protected as you had when you were a girl.

For a while that slice of heaven had included Tony. He’d made you feel safe and though he hadn’t meant to make you feel loved too, he had.

It had slipped out in small, tender moments even before you two collided and imploded.

When he'd found you struggling with your ability in a vacant parking lot, drunk off your ass and lifting cars.

He’d shown up like a hero, clad in hot rod red and gold, falling from the sky like some metallic angel.

He caught the third car you'd been about to pile up onto the roof of the bank next door, dropped it, then blasted you with a sonic pulsar boom that sent you flying onto your ass.

You'd groaned and scraped your knee, turning to climb back to your feet where you teetered and then fell back again.

Tony had moved towards you, stepped out of his armor, and then squat down beside you.

He’d pushed back the curtain of hair on your face then sighed when he saw your hazy drunk eyes.

“What are you doing out here, kid?” He'd asked and his voice had been sultry and deep. Comforting.

Like a baby duck you imprinted on him, fell hard in that moment as you stared up into his gorgeously tanned face. His dark eyes peered straight through you, seeing you as the mess you were instead of the menace he’d probably been sent to dispatch.

“Tony Stark?” You'd whimpered at him.

“Come on. Get up. I know just what to do with you.” Just like that he’d plucked you from nothing and given you purpose.

You were part of the team. Untrained. Unfocused. A hazard really. Everyone knew it.

Nat, Wanda, and Vision had attempted to reign your frenetic energy in but they could only help so much.

And your heart; egged on by stolen smiles with Tony on one-on-one lessons on his tech and lingering grazes, skin to skin. Swift deliberate caresses to the back if your head, a stroke of your shoulder. Always accompanied by an array of warm flutters.

The imprint left by Tony Stark was impossible to ignore and it had consumed you.

It ate you up and digested you before spitting you back up in a heap.

If there’s one thing you know now, it’s that Tony Stark never loved you. Not the way you wanted.

You'd been an obsession for him as much as he’d been to you. A broken toy to fix…or break beyond repair which is what it had nearly felt like.

So, you left.

Here in your little house, you tidy your small breakfast table and gather your dishes to wash.

The day is young and the sun streams in through your tall front windows filling the small space with warm golden glitter.

You love the warm swish of your maxi skirt, soft stretchy red cotton, as you settle in front of the sink and get to work.

This consists of you holding onto the edge of the sink. You focus, chewing on your lip as you use your ability to move the soapy brush across the dirty plates. The water running gently, rinsing and washing with only the strength of your mind.

It’s liberating, being gentle. Using your power for something so unlike the night you first received them.

Killing your parents, however inadvertently, still haunts you and you wake up at least once a night from nightmares that strangle you into choked sobs. You wish the memory would fade but it seems emblazoned into your mind and you’ve stopped fighting it.

It takes a lot of your energy to focus on doing menial tasks, but you know it’s necessary. If you want to control it. If you want to reign over what you see as your curse and appreciate it as a part of who you are, then maybe things will get easier.

You spend the morning cleaning, only to dirty a new plate and glass for lunch.

Being lazy from using your ability so much, you opt for the easy sandwich. Nothing fancy. Just enough to take the hunger with a large glass of lemonade.

You take your meal outside to sit in the wicker bench on the right end of your covered porch. Your other wicker seat, angled so that you can sit with your feet up, plate in your lap. With the larger dish of three more sandwiches waiting to be devoured, and your lemonade sitting on the small outdoor table to your right.

As you eat, you shut your eyes and enjoy the sun while it can still reach you here in your sheltered retreat. You observe the small country house you found, investing most of your money earned while still working with the Avengers into purchasing it and the property it sits on. Nestled out of the way, a mile outside of the nearest town so that no one will bother you and you don’t accidentally go scaring any civilians with your powers.

The pink floral print of your cushions makes you happy. You feel the seat beside you, smiling as you chew.

These are the things you look for now. The small bits in your life that can make you smile. If the incident with Tony has taught you anything, it’s that things will always come along to make you happy and other things will always come along to make you sad.

Nothing in life is easy and you’re going to be stressed or worried or angry or sad more often than you are happy, but those happy moments are yours to relish. You know now that you need to make the most of them and let the rest fall away.

Breaking down like you did…that can’t happen again.

Sitting with your eyes shut, you feel the storm before you see it. You smell it before it comes.

The gentle warm breeze that rustles the viridian oaks and cypress that nestle your home in a protective cocoon suddenly gusts, turning gold and chilling. Like the air straight from an AC vent. You open your eyes, take in the suddenly darkening sky—the sun suddenly swallowed by large majestic puffs of fluffy black cloud—and hurry to your feet to clean up before the rain can come.

You head inside, bare feet plopping gently against the weatherproofed wood of your porch and then the shining chocolate brown of your living room. You grab your breakfast tray, clutching it close as you walk and move back out onto the porch.

You nearly scream when you notice someone suddenly standing at the foot of your stairs, but the storm blue hue of his eyes takes your breath away before you can utter a single cry.

He looks too good. Too good to be here, darkening your doorway…or lighting it up, if you’re honest.

With his blonde hair combed back, a blue button-up hugging the not so subtle curves of his biceps, shoulders, and pecs…you’d forgotten how pretty he is. How heartbreakingly beautiful.

You’d been sure that this had passed, this urge to see him, this yearning for those late-night cuddles where he’d chased those pesky nightmares away and kissed you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

Now that you see him, your chest tells you no. You’re not over it. Not over him.

“Hi.” He says, his deep voice making your heart ache so much that you reach up to rub the spot on your white t-shirt over your heart.

“Hi.” You reply, unable to think of anything else to say.

You’re so utterly flabbergasted by his sudden presence, after months of no contact, that your mind stupidly sings the chorus to Dolly Parton’s song, Here You Come Again.

Here you come again,

Looking better than a body has a right to,

And shaking me up so,

That all I really know,

Is here you come again,

And here I go.

No. You don’t need boys. They’re nothing but trouble.

You move for the seat you’d occupied, pushing yourself to ignore him as best you can. You’ll get what he wants out of him and then send him on his way.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” You nearly gasp, finding just enough strength to demand the answer from him somewhat sternly.

Around your house the storm builds, the wind whipping the trees back and forth as the smell of wet earth reaches your nose.

“I…I’ve been looking for you. After you left the way you did, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He admits, and you cringe where he can’t see, placing the tray down to pile on the plates and glass with your back to him.

You pick it back up, balancing it just above your waist as you turn back to look at him.

“Well, I’m okay. As you can see. So…you can go now.” You move past him as he climbs up your stairs, but he doesn’t follow you inside, letting your screen door shut behind you as he lingers just on the other side.

“I-” He stops, you can hear the hesitation in his voice but as you put your tray down, you don’t dare turn to face him.

“Y/N…about what happened the night you left,” He begins.

“It was a mistake?” You ask him, probing despite your better judgement.

Your mind plays those final hours on the compound over again, remembering every sensation, every touch.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve shuts the door, kicking it closed as he hoists you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

You know it’s wrong. You know that it’s just your sorrow, your grief. You just lost Tony and you’re leaving. You’re abandoning this life to seek out another, abandoning Steve who was only trying to give you some comfort.

A quick hug before you leave but things sparked, and the flame grew too big as his touch lured you in.

He’d kissed your cheek, too close to your mouth and the way his hands felt on your hips, squeezing and pulling in familiar ways.

He’d pulled back to look into your eyes, searching, hoping…then leaned down to kiss you softly. Then harder, hungry but so tenderly that your heart nearly heals itself from his affection.

He’d pulled back again, moaning as you did, and he’d pulled you into his room.

Now, as he tumbles with you towards his bed, you forget that you’re leaving. You forget that Tony just ripped your heart out because Steve is here, and he means more to you than even you’d known. More than you want to admit.

He collapses with you, pushing you up until he has you pinned at the center of his bed. He kisses you as he pulls each piece of your clothes off. Shirt, pants, bra, panties, each article followed with sweet, aching, searing buttery kisses.

Then he’s naked too and he’s inside you, filling you up in ways that only he can.

You don’t compare him to Tony in the moment, but you think about the way Steve makes you feel more cherished, special, almost holy in his worship. He holds you close, not tight, but softly like he’s trying to show you how much he loves you there but also not break you. Skin sliding slick with yours as he pulls you up and lays back to watch you rise and fall on top of him.

You press your hands, so small against his muscles, to his chest and rock your hips against his cock, breathless moans tearing through your throat as you half cry, half whimper.

His hands trace your hips, your sides, he cups your breasts and then moves them down along your stomach until he can help coax your climax faster, rubbing your nub in slow tantalizing circles.

You come undone above him, shaking and trembling then falling against his chest where he holds you and pumps himself into you in four quick thrusts before he releases himself into you, groaning with his climax.

He caresses the back of your head, running one hand along the length of your back and the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion. Emotional. Physical. Mental.

You’re both so tired.

When you wake up, you get dressed, give him one last lingering look, and escape from this life. You escape from the pain of it because while your heart had beat with Steve’s tonight…Tony is still waging his war inside of you. Tearing you apart with his love that can go nowhere. A love that you need to learn to give up before you can have even the slightest chance of moving on.

So, you leave him there in his bed, arms empty, with the love he wants to give you that you don’t deserve.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No.” He nearly growls. “No, it wasn’t.”

You relax a little, sighing.

“Steve, why are you here?” You’d been doing so well but it would be a lie to say that you hadn’t missed him.

Before your jealousy and temper had begun to put a rift between you and the rest of the team, Sam, Wanda, Nat, Vision…all of you had gotten along well. Your love for Tony, your love for Steve. It had all ripped holes in you bringing out the worst parts of you.

Sam had been cruel in many ways but he’d also only had half of the story. Before all of the dramatics, you and Sam had actually been getting along. There was no friendship yet but had your bad sides not been so prevalent, you might have struck up a friendship with Sam. Wanda might have been given the chance to really get to know you, and maybe Nat might have also welcome you more warmly?

You miss the team too, but you don’t belong there, and you know you can’t go back.

“I missed you.” He admits, stealing your breath.

You stand up straight, hesitate…

Finally, you turn to face him and slowly make your way towards him as the sky outside rumbles.

He stares into your eyes, those storm blues drinking in your face as if he literally can’t get enough of seeing it. Is this really what he’s like? Is this Steve in love? You’ll find out shortly.

As you get closer, his eyes wander down, following the flow of your arm, down along your wrist and as you push the screen door open and step back out onto the porch, he takes two steps back as his eyes take in the bump that your tummy has become.

That bump pushes against the stretchy cotton of your skirt, white t-shirt tucked in, so it accentuates the bump a bit more.

Steve’s breathing heavily as the wind whips your skirt around your ankles. You rub your tummy, wary of his reaction and what it might possibly mean. He stares for so long, blinking and trying to piece together what it is he’s seeing.

“How long-?” He asks, stopping because he can’t finish the question for some reason.

“Five months.” You hear the rain start and it pours hard.

It rattles against your roof and then trickles down, falling onto the shoulder of Steve’s shirt.

You move towards him and reach for his forearm, pulling him under the porch fully so that he can avoid getting wet.

Your touch seems to awaken him. He shifts his hand instantly, grasping hold of your wrist and instead of letting you pull him too far under the porch, he pulls you towards him instead. He’s at least not getting wet anymore, but you’re so close to him you can smell the sweetwater of his aftershave, the soft scent of soap from his morning shower. The melon of his shampoo. He smells like Steve and it smells so good.

“Tony’s?” He asks, a clipped question because he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a complete sentence.

You feel the shock in the tremble of his fingers and the see it in the shiver of his eyes.

You shake your head, “I don’t know.”

Steve seems to deflate, mindless running his right hand down along your shoulder to your other wrist as his left continues to hold your right.

“I-I think it’s yours.” You confess, thinking back to those horrible days before you left. “Tony and I had a scare on that mission we went on. He…I took the morning after pill.”

You’ve never told anyone this at it embarrasses you because back then you’d have been happy to be pregnant with Tony’s baby.

For a fleeting moment, you’d been excited. Now you’re only terrified that it is his. That Tony will always be tied to you in that way…you don’t want that.

Steve sighs, it’s weighty. There’s something he’s not saying. “What?”

Steve shakes his head. “No…I don’t want to-”

“Tell me.” You insist, staring up not his beautiful face, now screwed up with that all too familiar disapproving frown.

“Pepper’s pregnant.” He tells you and it’s like you’re punched in the gut.

You shut your eyes, hating the pain that this news gives you. It confirms your suspicions. It had never been about Tony not wanting kids. He just didn’t want them with you.

“Are you sure?” Steve suddenly asks, pulling your wrists up to press them against his chest. “Is the baby mine?”

You blink, startled back into the present and away from those memories that you’ve worked hard to put behind you.

You get what he’s asking but despite your wish to give him an easy answer, the truth is never easy. It never has been for you.

“No.” You shake your head. “The truth is Tony and I started using condoms after what happened on the island and…it could have broken. I wasn’t on birth control so…I think it’s yours Steve.”

You want it to be Steve’s. Even before he’d shown up, it was your deepest wish. “I haven’t been on birth control since you and I broke up and you’re the only man that I’ve slept with without protection, but we can find out. We can test the baby and we can know for sure.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” He asks, suddenly dropping your hands to place his on either side of your belly. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

Your heart flutters and melts. Steve. Your inner voice croons.

“Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid? So blind? I’m literally the stupidest person on the planet for not seeing what I had before I gave it up and now…what if it is Tony’s baby?” You panic, voice rising in octave.

Steve reaches down to pull your chin up so that he can look at your worrying face.

“It’s my baby, Y/N.” He tells you, no question or doubt in his mind. “If you’ll let me be here…no matter what…it’s mine.”

And you want to kiss him. You’re relieved and you’re swooning from the sheer gallantry this man is showing you and you seriously hate yourself for doing what you did to him. But you don’t kiss him because what if he’s reacting to the baby? What if he’s doing it because you’re falling to pieces again?

You smile up at him, forcing your hands to push him back a bit but he doesn’t go far. He feels the baby kick in your stomach and he smiles wide, storm blue eyes sparkling as thunder rumbles overhead.

“Come inside. This storm isn’t going anywhere for a while.” It takes every bit of will power you have to turn away from him and move back into the house, but he follows close at your tail, his hand reaching out to stroke the small of your back.

At six months, your belly is rounding out nicely.

Steve hasn’t left since he showed up randomly that day at the cusp of spring.

With birds chirping in the trees and your backyard freshly cut, Steve lets the lawn mower power down as he reaches up to scratch an itchy spot on his forehead.

He’s not sweating but he looks misty. Hot. Gray t-shirt clinging to his torso, jeans sitting pretty on his nice ass.

You smirk as you watch him, waiting with the cold glass of lemonade dripping with condensation balanced at the center of your palm.

He turns to look towards the house and notices you watching, a smile tugging at his lips as he shields his eyes from the sun of the passing morning.

“Is that for me?” He calls to you and you nod before moving down the steps towards him.

“Woah, wait. I’ll come to you.” He fusses, bounding across the law towards you.

When he reaches you, you shake your head. “You know, I could catch myself if I fell. I don’t need a man to help me.”

“Wha-? I’m not a man.” He informs you, taking the glass from you and taking a long gulp. He gasps with delight at the cold sensation of the liquid trailing down his throat. “I’m Captain America. Look, you’re even flying my colors.”

He points at the flag on your back porch and you try not to laugh. “That came with the house.”

“Oh.” He pouts. “Well, you didn’t take it down.”

“Thank you for cutting my grass.” You watch him down the rest of his lemonade and resists the urge to lean in and take a nice long whiff of his sweat misted skin.

Your hormones are crazy right now and jumping Steve seems to be the only thing you can think about lately.

“Of course.” He smiles at you, holding his glass out for you.

“Let it go.” You tell him.

“What? Just drop it?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

He tilts his head, confused, but drops it as you ask, and it floats there in the air between the two of you.

You struggle to hold your concentration with Steve breathing heavily behind you, moving closer and blowing hot air on the back of your neck. His hands come around you from behind, pressing against your stomach to feel for the baby.

This is the only way that he touches you.

You know that he doesn’t know why you won’t pick up where the two of you left off. You know that he wants to, but he’s been respecting your wishes and he hasn’t tried to hug you or kiss you or sneak into your bedroom—no matter how much you wish he freaking would.

But with your baby, he has the perfect excuse to touch you and he takes it as often as he can.

Of course, that doesn’t help with your training and the glass falls, thunking against the ground but thankfully, not breaking.

You sigh, disappointed.

“Maybe you’re doing this all wrong?” He asks.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” You ask him, annoyed with his need to touch your tummy but also greedy for it.

You can hear the amusement he has for your annoyance and he turns you around slowly, releasing you completely once you’re facing him.

“When do you find it easy to control your power?” He wonders.

“When I’m pissed off.” You tell him pointedly. “But…I guess also when I don’t have to think about it too much? Like, when I was the dishes I-”

“I’ve seen you play your little game.” He’s talking of course about the way you try to make music with the brush and the clinking of the plates, forks, and spoons.

You didn’t know he’d been paying attention that closely.

“Well, I’ve noticed you trying to develop your gift and I had an idea. Really, you’ll be doing me a favor.” He tells you, wandering away towards a large basket you hadn’t noticed just by the steps of the porch.

He walks it over to the left side of your yard, puts it down, and then waves you over.

You move to him, hand on your lower back as you carefully avoid the uneven parts of your hard.

“I’ll read up on how to even the yard out.” He says, noticing your careful footing.

“I’m okay.” You insist, but you can see him making a mental note.

As you reach him, you peek into the basket and smile. “Water balloons?”

“It’s really hot.” He tells you. “And after cutting your yard, I could use a cooling off. Assuming you can catch me with those.”

“You want me to use my power to fling water balloons at you?” You ask, incredulous but smiling.

“You not up for it?” He teases and you bite your lower lip.

It takes no effort to get the nearest blue balloon to fly out of the basket.

Steve gasps and rushes off at a slow jog as the water sloshes inside the sheer rubber. You make it zoom after him, but he dodges it easily and laughs as you miss.

“Ooh, missed.” He brags.

You narrow your eye at him.

“Uh-oh.” He says, chuckling as you chuck balloon after balloon at him.

He’s too fast. Too good at dodging and you’ve gone through almost half the basket when he stops with his hands on his knees.

“Give it up, doll face, you’re just no match for my speed.”

Your heart flutters at his old nickname for you, but his taunt pushes you to think slightly outside of the box.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He says, a wide smile spreading over his pearly whites.

You look down at the basket and it takes slightly more effort, but you manage to make all the balloon float up to hover around him.

“Hey!” He complains. “That’s cheating.”

“Dodge this, Rogers.” You taunt and send all of the balloons flying at him at once.

He doesn’t stand a chance of course and doesn’t even try to move from his spot across from you. He’s pelted with balloon after balloon. A cacophony of bursting rubber and splashing water fills the better part of a minute and when he’s no longer being hit, Steve stands, soaked from head to toe.

He gasps and spits, dripping, that t-shirt clinging so very nicely to his form.

“That was not-” As he looks up at you, you send one final red balloon at his face where it bursts with a loud pop.

He spits the water, looking so stupid with his face all scrunched up against the impact that you can’t help but laugh.

“-fair.” He complains, wiping at his face.

He looks up at you, watching you as you struggle to find support while you laugh in loud streaming chuckles. You reach down to cup the bottom of your belly, really belting out the laugh as you replay the look on his face over and over.

“Think that’s funny?” He asks, and you nod.

You laugh until you’re gasping for air and Steve watches you, eyes dazzling in twinkles as he does. His smile slowly fades, and you straighten up, recovering from your fit of laughter because of the serious set of his jaw.

“Steve?” You check, worried that you might have taken this all too far and upset him. “I-Did I hurt you with that last one?”

Your worry seeps through and you rub your belly, taking a step towards him when he suddenly struts towards you with a purposeful gait.

“Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

But he sweeps you into his arms, hands holding the sides of your face as he ducks down and meets you in a crushing kiss.

Your knees nearly buckle as the sweep of his kiss steals your breath. Steve is always stealing your breath.

His lips move slow, hungrily, open mouthed kisses where his tongue slides between your lips to deep it. He moans against your lips, satisfied but nowhere near sated.

He’s dripping wet and your skin pimples as he presses his very wet torso against your chest and tummy but you can’t find it in you to mind as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to kiss him just as eagerly as he needs.

It’s minutes before he pulls back, pulling out of a lingering peck only to rest his forehead against yours.

“Choose me.” He begs, eyes shut. One hand wanders down to the side of your tummy and he caresses it lovingly.

“Yes.” You nod, staring up into his face, wishing you’d said yes to him when he first asked you to choose him. “Yes, Steve. I choose you.”

He smiles, so happy you can see the flush of pride on his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet yours, staring with the pure devotion, the choosing that you’ve been searching for too.

“I love you.” He whispers, and you cry but pull him into another kiss as you once again tell him with just your body how much you really love him.

Steve eventually has to go back to the team, and he promises to come back.

When he leaves the first time, the panicked insecure little girl in you worries and is absolutely sure that Steve won’t return.

He stays away for a week and when he comes back, you’re so relieved you cry.

He holds you close and kisses your tears away then kisses your belly.

You don’t wonder about Steve returning anymore after that first time, but a new wonder begins to sprout in your mind.

The bigger your stomach gets, the more often he comes back. For Steve, leaving the team so often is strange.

“Do the others wonder where you go?” You ask, nestled in against his side, naked bodies covered with your blanket.

Steve’s hands are always on your tummy, especially when he can touch it directly. Skin to skin.

“They’re curious. Let them wonder.” He says, nuzzling into your hair as he drifts off to sleep.

Your heart gives a tiny ache, a deep-seated worry cropping up to poison your heart. Is Steve hiding you again?

This worry follows you into your eighth month of pregnancy. It makes you grumpy and when Steve asks you what’s wrong, you blame your swollen ankles and your aching back.

He convinces you to go back to the compound to give birth to the baby.

He doesn’t trust the local hospital for a possible enhanced baby birth, and you suppose that after nearly nine months away, and with Tony and Pepper now officially married, it’s safe to go back.

You’re not happy as the two of you arrive. It’s late and you’re terrified of running into Tony and Pepper, but Steve assures you that they’re at their new house and don’t come up to the compound as often.

No one is up when you arrive and as soon as you step off of the elevator, F.R.I.D.A.Y. greets Steve with a message.

“Hello, Captain. Welcome back. You too, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” You grumble at her, the late-night arrival not helping with your suspicion that Steve might be trying to get you in here when one is around. Maybe he’ll sneak you out too?

“You okay, baby?” Steve asks, rubbing your aching lower back.

You don’t answer because F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts.

“Captain Rogers, Natasha would like you to bring her the London mission report. She said she forgot to include a few things and would hate for you to file them incomplete.”

Steve sighs. “Damn it, Nat. Quick detour, baby. Come on.”

You don’t want to go to Steve’s office! Your feet are hurting, your back is aching, you’re tired and irritated and you’re still nothing but Steve’s dirty little secret.

Then you reach Steve’s office and as he flicks on the light, your eyes wander over to his desk and find at least fifteen pictures frames, each one holding a picture of you.

Steve doesn’t stop at his desk but instead moves to the filing cabinet on the opposite wall and with his back to you, rifles through files upon files of mission reports.

You waddle over to his desk, reaching for the closest picture and try to remember when he took it. You’re sitting on your sofa, reading a book. There’s another of you cooking. Another of you washing dishes with them floating in front of you and the silliest look of concentration on your face.

There’s one of you and Steve together. That one you remember taking. And another where he’s got you wrapped in his arm as he kisses your cheek. It’s your face over and over again on his desk from all different angles doing various different things but the largest picture, sitting just beside his computer monitor so that a mere tilt of his head might bring you into view, is one of you standing on your porch, hands on your swollen belly. You’re staring down at your baby, a peaceful smile you don’t recognize on your face.

Strong arms wrap themselves around you as slow tears trickle along your cheeks. He’s had you on display here, in his office, for everyone to see this entire time?

“Everyone’s been so eager to see you in person. I told them it wasn’t the right time yet. I don’t want us to move back here when the baby’s born. I want to stay out in our little house. I like us there better.” He tells you, lips pressed loosely against your cheekbone. “Is that okay?”

You shift in his arms, elated because you aren’t his secret.

You’re just his.

“Yes.” You smile. “Hell, yeah it’s okay.”

Two days later, your baby girl is born, and she looks so much like Steve you think your heart will burst.

You and Steve name her Sarah.

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[gg-astrology]

TWICE Yoo Jeongyeon - Overview

Hello! 💕 Haven’t done this in a while but I figured since I’ve been getting asks about Dahyun-- I wanted to do Nayeon, Jeongyeon and Dahyun’s Overview before Twice’s comeback (on the 22nd!) 💕 Not sure how well this will go!! But I hope you can show the girls some love and hopefully their comeback ‘Fancy’ will be a Bop!! 💕💕

Masterlist  | Momo | Mina | Sana | Jihyo | Nayeon |  Dahyun | 

Disclaimer: For unknown Birthtimes we’re going to use the standard 12.00pm --and as always, please read with your own discretion! 💕

November 1st, 1996 Suwon, South Korea

Scorpio Sun/Mercury

Oooof we’re starting off STRONG today with her Scorpio Sun AND Mercury being VERY tight to each other (0′33) This makes for for someone who’s quite powerful, sometimes a lil forceful but bold, speaks her mind (within reasons), thoughtful and intelligent. 

It’s not the overt type of ‘bold’ as Leos, but more like they aren’t afraid if it’s for the better. Sometimes -- it comes with courage that you’re able to say the things other people have been thinking about (and fearing the consequences/disturbing the equilibrium).

With Scorpios in particular-- it’s about knowing those consequences but knowing better the way to travel/transverse through the situation without hurting themselves/others too much in the process as well.

It’s an intellectual process-- where you make calculated risks in order to get the gained result. It’s about seeing the unseen, perhaps being able to see through people quickly as well-- and ability to tell whether someone’s trustworthy or not based on subtle observations.

People might comment a lot on her ?? because whilst she is very beautiful, she can sometimes have a mean-side despite being pretty nice and might consider herself to be ‘open’ in a way.

It’s the way you come across-- you know? Like how certain people who aren’t doing ANYTHING is just considered to be ‘closed off/mean’ based on them not being completely open/sharing in comparison to others. 

When you put Scorpios in a social/public setting-- despite being honest and friendly themselves-- they know the subtle cues of oversharing and what to say/not to say which distinct them from others, and that distinction is what makes people look at them socially as someone who’s kind of ‘secretive’ or may ‘keep to themselves’ (and may contribute to the misunderstanding that they’re closed off) 

It’s a part of why Scorpios are kinda misunderstood sometimes-- because whilst they are ‘open’ as they can be-- it’s their choice whether or not they choose to open up or not. 

They aren’t necessarily over-sharers, but they will share if they think it’s right/needs to hear (their own actions). You don’t HAVE to share everything in your life-- there’s a reason we have time to ourselves. 

Whilst it IS nice to share our burdens with others/public, there’s also a lot of values in learning how to process/work through things with our own and then sharing that with others as well. 

Think of social media --- there’s people who shares really personal parts of their lives (conflicts) and probably should talk/communicate to the other person themselves instead (think facebook) for smaller situations -- the Scorpio is the type to distinct between the private/public.

There’s ‘mindlessness’ and ‘thoughtfulness’ that they distinct by--- with it in her Sun/Mercury -- she may judge others based on how ‘thoughtful’ they are as well. As ‘mindless’ action that is done with no particular point, or done ‘uselessly’ can create a negative environment/impact on others and that becomes ‘thoughtless’ action (inconsiderate)

With the Scorpio -- it’s about consideration and thoughtfulness. Did you think about what you did? Or did you act without thinking/brashly? 

Was it thought-out, did you exclude certain narratives/thoughts before presenting it out. All these things are considered-- and it’s also a part of why they are somewhat harsh on themselves as well.

See it’s kinda like-- Jeongyeon may be the type of person who thinks alot to herself, goes away to work on things on her own until she figures it out. She can be contemplative, but with that comes a certain strength that makes her stand out--- her willingness to see things through, her strength in making it out completely and as best as she can. 

It comes with consideration-- and a lot of internal work in order to manifest it outward like that (nocturnal sign)  

This Sun/Mercury conjunction may find themselves to be quite truthful. There’s an honesty to them that’s hard to find-- a personal integrity. They aren’t necessarily big speakers-- but they speak when it’s necessary.

Quality over quantity -- and most of the time it’s for the better as well. 

We often talk about how Libras are indecisive-- in Scorpios what you don’t see is that they can sometimes be like that as well. Not in a way that they’re wishy-washy, just that they need to work things through before making a decision as well.

Commitment isn’t something they take lightly, especially ones that requires them to be able to make time, effort, spend energy in long-term.

The ‘intensity’ that Scorpios are known for is more to do with ‘mind-set’ -- as in, are they settled, are they stable/fixed in what they do? Having the preparatory work is necessary in order to ‘dive’ into it.

For the Scorpio Sun/Mercury -- even when you think they’re ‘just like you’ they aren’t completely like you. They have their inner-workings, and their own individuality. 

There’s moments where they aren’t going to completely agree with you or go along with what you want, but it’s no offense to the person. It’s just respect for their own self. 

Patience and tolerance only works as long as they have a ‘goal’ in mind. For the Scorpios-- it’s easier to ‘grab’ what you want/your decisive nature. At the same time-- a developed Scorpio would have to learn how to let things go without throwing a fit about it. 

Emotions/feelings combined with their ‘want/need’ can eventually become their vices if they don’t watch out for it. Primarily, it’s focused on ‘desire/want/goal’ without them realizing they’ve invested ‘feelings’ into the equation-- and the ‘feeling’ part is what makes them cling onto the idea. Rejecting rejection, rejecting reality sometimes. They can be intense to themselves, and in this case it’s to their detriments sometimes as well.

One of the good things about them though is that they have a lot of perseverance and isn’t afraid to use their hands/feet to get what they want. You can’t be afraid to work hard and do what you can to get what you need. 

At the same time, combined with their occasional patience/tolerance you get someone who strikes best when the opportunity arises-- rather than driving themselves to the ground to gain something/endlessly working to reach a goal. Think smart, work hard. Mayhaps Scorpios will have to learn this too. 

Most Scorpios will have to learn how to heal and transform-- from the ashes to a phoenix. Since that’s the path of the ‘healer’ that they’re set out to be. 

Pain, trauma, bad past experiences are a part of what makes them who they are. The recovery period is long and can take years sometimes. 

Eventually Scorpios will have to learn how to ‘crack’ those period open and allow themselves a chance to heal/be happy instead. Move on, change, transform. That’s the path of the Scorpio that Scorpios themselves will need to learn how to do. 

Going back to Sun/Mercury in Scorpio -- with Mercury also ruling the mind (not just communication) a lot of internal energy is aligned with her Sun (ego/confidence/esteem). Making Jeongyeon quite a smart person (people smart sometimes) able to see through things, sometimes even someone who feels like their best trait is their mind/how they think.

This can make for a calculative person, strategic but also hugely ‘gut-feeling/intuitive’. Binding intuition with logical senses can be hard, but there’s value in expressing feelings in a logical way that everyone can understand--- it humanizes aspects of ‘people’ without making it be ‘vulnerable’ or ‘oversharing’. 

The way Scorpio talks about their feelings-- sometimes it’s more like a ‘this was what it is and that’s what happened’ but it’s not meant in a negative way, just that it happened (dry) and then ‘im working to be better at it’ -- an acceptance of the process. 

Because it is Scorpio however (and a lot of the water signs are like this too) -- sometimes they aren’t ‘hearing’ what other people are saying. 

Some can rely a lot on their own experience/guts to make that connection. Despite having a Scorpio Mercury-- she may be a good understander but mayhaps not always a good listener. Especially when it concerns her feelings/experience rendering the conversation to be ‘narrower’ in her mind.

Y know... like sometimes you get stuck in your mind, situation. You don’t necessarily need advice, you just want to vent.

Or rather.. you’ve already made up your mind on what to do, even if it’s not necessarily the best decision. But there’s no changing your mind, so you dismiss any advice being given to you. And pursue your own path anyways.

It be like that sometimes for fixed signs, especially fixed water like Scorpio. Their ‘will-power’ in this regard, can sometimes disregard others. Thus why ‘healing’ and resurrecting the self by cracking down completely is the ‘transformation’ Scorpios will do.

With that said, it isn’t all bad. Scorpio Mercury are thoughtful people, often times when they’re quiet-- they’re contemplating and thinking about what you said. Furthering it, relating to it, putting it into a format that’s applicable to them. 

They don’t normally dominate conversations-- preferring to be more of the observer type. But they do hold certain power when they talk-- and they expect people to listen to them when they’re proving a point on something (and be adamant and demand this from others).

Scorpio Mercury are also very curious people-- especially with topics where they can dive in deep, study (self-study) or investigate. Usually they like finding things ‘beneath the surface’ -- so not just what is presented to them, but the use and meaning underneath. What’s it for, what can it do. What’s the implication/message beneath that. 

Like Capricorns -- they’re more of a hands-on kind of learner (Martian). This applies to understanding something as well. In order to fully understand/feel comfortable with something, they have to actively engage with the material themselves. 

Just hearing it from someone else and taking their words for it isn’t going to cut it. These people like to be there at the scene, likes to know the material like the back of their hands. If they aren’t ‘connected’ to the topic on the level that they can pull it from their mind/document -- then it’s not something they’re certain about at all (commitment).

Sun/Mercury in Scorpio also makes for someone who’s very funny-- in a Scorpio-like humor. Usually, it comes along as snarky/sarcastic or observational humour. As in-- they pick the situation/opportunity to poke fun at something (’moments’ humour). Can sometimes be satirical or academically inclined as well. 

With Jeongyeon-- she also has her Mercury/Jupiter sextile. This can point to someone who may offer services to others-- particularly listening/offering advice. 

With Scorpio Mercury they’re often time good psychologists because they can see and analyze pretty quickly what’s beneath the surface. 

They’re quiet when they want the other person to speak, they give space and also own the space when they need tot alk. They aren’t afraid to point out the things that can help you-- but doing so in a very understanding way.

Note that sometimes they can be sympathetic-- but more so than just being ‘nice’ or ‘kind’ they are understanding. There’s a difference. 

You’re expected to help yourself, but they understand what you’re going through. For now-- this is what they can offer you emotionally (understanding).

Whilst she is extremely generous with others (Sun/Jupiter) and may be personally popular for her mind/positivity (Mercury/Jupiter) -- she also has a strong ego in regards to her intellectual abilities (Sun/Mercury) as well as a debate/combative personality (Mercury/Uranus). 

Particularly because it’s Scorpio Mercury square Aquarius Uranus -- sometimes she can be a bit more conservative than she realizes. Or just really really stubborn in her perspective, unable to see things from other people’s perspective.

It’s emotional more so than anything, but this ‘emotional’ side is what’s stopping her from being rational/open-minded the way she usually is. 

Cancer Moon ( 2nd Decan | Scorpio - Mars/Pluto )

There’s possibly a reason people say she’s like a nurturer in the group-- and that might be because of this Cancer Moon right here!

Not all Cancer Moons ‘acts’ like a nurturer, some are better at being nurtured (or would want the same back) but with the combination of Scorpio/Cancer---  Jeongyeon is someone who is a ‘stable’ point in the group

You’d think ‘oh waters aren’t stable’ but they are. Specifically with Cancer Moons-- whilst they themselves are a little bit of a stubborn pebble sometimes they are also great at handling people. 

Imagine a pebble staring up at you like ‘>:[’ --- this is them sometimes it’s so cute skjnsfkjnksnk if Capricorn is like ‘:(’ then Cancer is petulant ‘>:[’ 

Anyways, that’s besides the point (and just my opinion) -- what I’m here to say is that Cancer Moons have immense capabilities at understanding emotions and reflecting them back at others. 

They’re intuitively inclined, able to draw out people’s feelings/thoughts with intentions and purpose if they so wish. 

Sometimes it’s just from the way they act/behave-- and the aura of comfort that surrounds them. These people are ‘comfortable’ to be around because they’re naturally ‘themselves’ as well -- most of the time, we have a hard time being comfortable with ‘ourselves’.

This is receptive energy -- as in, the Moon reflects light from the Sun thus why it glows (over-simplification but ok). Cancer’s similar to that in how they help people reflect their own light, and thus they are able to evaluate themselves better when they’re with them. 

This might be part of why Jeongyeon is such a stable and consolidating presence in the team.

But another part of their nature is their protective nature and consoling presence -- imagine a crab, there’s the shell that ‘protects’ them from the outside and also the soft innards that you’ll have to crack in order to eat.

Please don’t vore your Cancer friends or ‘crack’ them in order to eat their innards. This applies to metaphorical voring as well (cracking them in order to let them show their emotions) -- there’s a reason the shell’s there, and that’s for self-protection and also their Skin. 

You don’t strip someone’s skin, because that’s painful and they’ll bleed. Nurture your crab friend by letting them be in their shell-- and if they’re comfortable with you they will come up to you. But don’t expect them to gut themselves and show you their insides.

Even if they are ‘open books’ about their experiences there are things they won’t be comfortable sharing/talking about --pushing too much will only aggravate them more bc it feels like you’re not listening to them (or validating them) and only criticizing the way ‘they’ work. 

So with the sign of Cancer-- try to treat them as a crab friend and not a surgical experience. You don’t go around slicing up living breathing animals when they’re not dead, so don’t do that to your Cancers either.

Anyways-- all of this was to say they’ll open up when they want to. When they’re comfortable and feel like you’re receptive to listening to their side of the story. 

Judgment can be a turn off especially if they’re not the one doing the judging. 

In the meantime, YOU can open up to THEM about stuff if you want. 

They’ll be there to listen and offer an ear. No guarantees on whether or not they’ll make fun of you or not but it’s usually not mean-spirited. 

These people-- although they don’t say it outloud they can be needy. The way they go about seeking attention is by roping you into activities with them. Or mentioning something in your vicinity hoping you get the hint. I’d say it’s passive aggressive but it’s more like passively direct.  

They aren’t hiding stuff, they’re just not saying it sometimes. If they’re emotionally pre-occupied then just let them do their thing, when they feel more secure they’ll talk about it. You just gotta be patience with them.

Basically--all this comes down to seeking security and stability, as well as cardinally ‘acting’ it out. When they got problems, they analyze and figure out ‘what to do about it/what can be done’ --- usually ‘action’ taking are done internally (in the mind/mentally) which can be more passive than say Aries (like pre-planning). And then execution happens.

These are usually the type of people who are wrapped up in themselves-- this isn’t actually your problem so don’t insert yourself into the narrative. Let them do their thing, because later when they communicate they’ll be more open to figuring things out.

Usually-- Cancer Moons have a problem with retaining memories/ experiences that ‘hurts’ them. Specifically ones where they feel ‘vulnerable’ or ‘attacked’ by those they care about/unexpectedly. 

These memories/experiences ‘shapes’ them in a way-- and it can take years for a Cancer to learn how to grow out of them because they are-- essentially-- ‘shaped’ by the experience going forward even if they don’t realize it. 

‘No that’s not me’ because Cancers are defensive signs. And whilst they try to ‘overcome’ experiences/emotions that happened to them they don’t realize that they forget to address ‘healing’ themselves-- not just ‘taking’ or ‘overcoming’ something but learning to ‘heal’ and embrace themselves/their vulnerabilities as well. 

They’re terrible at ‘embracing/feeling’ things in it’s totality. Most Cancers would probably hide themselves away to go through their emotional process instead of letting you see them do that. And when situation arises, they are less ‘reactionary’ because they suppress their feelings until they can process them later as well. 

(Choosing to be ‘stable and controlled’ in order to get things ‘objectively’ done) 

There’s a certain ‘need’ to ‘look’ strong in cardinal signs-- rarely, you’ll see a cardinal who feels 100% comfortable being vulnerable in public without some kind of internalized bs regarding showing emotions. 

Sometimes changes are scary, especially when it comes to self-improvement and hearing suggestions from others on how they can develop themselves. Like it’s sister sign Capricorn--- Cancerians are more old-fashioned than they realize and usually takes a while to ‘open up’ to new advice, suggestions, ideas. Sometimes they can take these cues as if it’s criticism to themselves and becomes defensive as well. 

Sometimes -- with Cancer/Scorpio mix you can have someone who’s quite dynamic--- position of authority, likes to tell people what to do.

It’s about being in control, or having control over others sometimes. Combined with the nurturing nature of Cancer it can make someone who aggressively nurtures you. But at the same time-- is equally independent as well.  

This can make for quite an organized person who plans things out to a T when they put their mind to it-- at the same time, they’re attracted to the weird, whimsical or bizarre (unusual) as well. 

Nevertheless, Cancer Moons are often popular with those around them because they are likeable. They remind you of home, of familial figures and in how they take care of those around them. Their sense of humour is usually a little quirky -- which only endears them more to those around them!

They can clean up quite often, domestic scene/field is where they’re comfortable with. Some may become homebodies as well-- preferring to have entertainment inside the home instead of publicly/outside sometimes (depends on placement).

These Cancer Moons (with their close friends) are quite sensitive and caring. More so than that they’re ‘thoughtful’ people to have around. 

They aren’t much for frivolous things or displays because ‘trust’ is a thing that they have to be ‘solid/built’ completely sold on first. 

(Also they can be fun-loving!!! So please love them lots!!) 

Libra Venus  Virgo Mars 

Gonna combine these two together bc they both-- exemplify a lot of her intellectual and analytical side and I absolutely love it

We talked so much about her emotionality with all the waters above-- the combination of Libra Venus and Virgo Mars brings an emphasis to intellect and it’s!!! really nice to see

Talking about them separately first-- with Libra Venus-- like the Nayeon post earlier, there’s a kindred nature with her where it’s a subtle kind of affection.

As an air/cardinal venus, there’s a lot of emphasis on finding ‘perfection’ in what she pursues and is interested in. Where the energy goes in terms of crafts and expression, it’s in finding what ‘fits’ right and organizing/editing until it makes ‘sense’ or ‘looks right’.

It’s hard for Libra Venus to be completely satisfied especially if they’re so excited/have high expectation for the project. With higher expectations (and no concrete manifestation) they sometimes lose themselves in the process-- going over things endlessly again and again until it ‘fits’ right for a period of time. 

This is an interesting contrast to the decisive nature of Scorpio that she has-- with Libra in Venus, often times it softens the Scorpio abit by creating ‘time’ to deliberate over things. 

Trust that the end product will be phenomenal --- but there’s also joy in the ‘act’ of working through things and crafting what she loves. 

They like things to be ‘polished’ and even if it’s not-- then it better be ‘intentional’ and have a good reasoning behind it. 

This combined with the tendency of Virgo Mars -- makes for a person who’s kind of a ‘worker’. An organizer of sorts, likes to see the pieces and arrange them before the finalizing of things/projects.

Visually-- it has to be pleasing, but also the detailing and workings of it has to be up to par. It doesn’t make sense for something to be half-hearted when you could put meaning into it, intentions and create/craft something out of it.

This is the side that makes things looks ‘cleaner’ -- compared to Scorpio/Cancer that can sometimes be ‘crude’-- the Libra/Virgo ‘cleans up’ the edges and makes sure things are presentable. And that kind of ‘presentability’ is what makes things sell.

With themselves and with their product/self- expression -- everything happens in stages. You work through things with the core-energy (hammering it out) with that Scorpio/Cancer will-power. And then you dust off/polish everything so it makes sense, is cohesive. And isn’t cluttered (decluttering).

With Libra Venus especially-- seeing something visually pleasing or being represented as visually pleasing can be important for their self-confidence as well. 

It’s not vanity exactly-- it’s more like acknowledging that you CAN do something about it so you should. And using that to your benefit rather than sit and wait for judgment from others to come to you.  

See, besides the analytical and organizational traits they’re also quite critical and judgemental of themselves/others. No personal offense to anyone at all, but how things are presented and unravelled to these people matters.   

Presentation matters. And since they put so much emphasis on that for themselves, seeing people meet their expectations or share similar standards on this subject can help enhance/bond with them (common interest and understanding with each other).

With the combination of Libra/Virgo in the Venus/Mars -- it’s highly likely that their expectations/style is more of the simple, elegance but sophisticated kind. 

The ‘type’ of presentation is usually more classy-- not really the ‘in the dumps, natural beauty who came from the amazon’ type but more polished/put together style.

This might apply more to themselves/how they want to see others. Sometimes-- there are those who are ‘rugged’ that complements them and becomes objects of their desire. But that also depends on their DSC etc. as well.

With both of these being intellectual signs (Libra/Virgo)-- and considering her Scorpio/Cancer Sun-Moon. Jeongyeon may be the type to listen to others and then intellectualize their words, feelings, emotions. 

Explaining it back to them or understanding it in a very stabilized manner, helping them gain understanding and stability about themselves and how/what they’re feeling if they can’t make sense of it.

This is pretty cute actually -- because there’s always that one friend who listens and THINKS about what you said. And then try to understand it by putting themselves in your shoes (Cancer Moon) but without-- y know, getting all emotional about it.

They’re just trying to understand you, your emotions. Your conflict and your situation. They’re an outsider but with a deeply intuitive/wise perspective. A guidance in your times of need. And also an ear to hear you out/listen to you.

The confidante!!!  I keep forgetting the word but that’s it. Trust if you never take her advice/words she’ll get frustrated. There’s a point to why she sits with you and try to persuade you to do better for yourself. 

So you better manifest/progress with your situation cause if you keep lamenting about the same things-- she’s going to lose her patience and ditch you to go fume.

There’s conditions placed-- and those conditions is that you try to listen and accept help from others. If you’re too stagnant or stubborn-- refusing to listen or LEARN then it’s going to be like talking to a brick wall for her. And she’s the type who won’t know what to do with that (needs stimuli/responsive/reaction)

Too independent to wait around for too long, despite how caring and nurturing she is for those that she loves she’s not going to be the one to get hurt when they lash out/hurt her in the end. 

Besides this-- ways of showing/giving affection back to her is by caring about the little things, the little details. Whether it’s cooking a meal after a long day, getting her flowers or just remembering tiny details about her. These things may be small but the amount of affection/care and thoughtfulness put into it is amazing.

That’s what she’s going to be touched by, warmed-hearted. The simple tiny details of everyday life that manifests into moments of care/affection in time. 

You don’t have to go grand or big since it might embarrass her or push her into responding in a way that’s ‘big’ or equal (try to match up) to the affection you’ve shown--- just the small things are fine.

Communication is a thing-- communicating about your dreams, goals, values. Or just everyday life, it doesn’t have to be deep, big or superficial. 

Sharing your visions and thoughts together is stimulation enough for Libra/Virgo. 

Sharing-- another part of it, is also a thing that makes them quite romantic. If it’s raining, sharing an umbrella. Taking care of them, sharing food/giving them food.  Going on a trip together and getting souvenirs because it made you thought of them (even when you went there together).

Showing them through the little things that you care even if it doesn’t have to be direct/grand is nice.

Alrighty 💜 That’s it for Jeongyeon’s overview! 💜💜💜 Touched on some difficult stuff-- since you can’t really gauge how developed Scorpio/Cancers are sometimes and that can indicate a lot about how they act/react in a way 💜 But I hope-- for those who benefits from this, that you also use it to grow as well 💜💜💜 

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part I - Chapter 10) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Brendon returned from his impromptu road trip a mere five minutes before the break of dawn. The journey had lasted longer than he’d anticipated, but he couldn’t deny the miraculous effect it had on him – he felt at ease for the first time in months.

He entered the facility and rode the elevator down to the cell, making his way toward the problem he’d left behind. Roman was seated on a steel chair in front of the door to the cell, maintaining a firm gaze at its occupant.

Even though Brendon had mastered the art of sneaking up on people – right down to the skill of making sure that no matter what shoes he was wearing, his footsteps were almost completely silent – Roman’s instincts were that good that he was able to detect the presence of his fellow agent, and he turned to extend a greeting.

“You can catch some sleep,” Brendon said to him, cocking his head in the direction of the elevator, “I’ll take over.”

The Samoan shook his head and scrunched up his face. “Nah, it’s all good. We rotated shifts and I just took over from Ambrose a couple minutes ago. ‘Sides, I don’t think leaving you alone with him is the smartest idea.”

Brendon shoved both hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Hey, whose side are you on, here?”

Roman chuckled softly. “Kinda hard to pick,” he shrugged, “None of us even know the full story.”

“Well you’re not missing much, I can tell you that,” Brendon mumbled, turning his body and cementing his gaze on his brother, whose head was hanging down as he slept.

Roman observed Brendon for a little while, internally debating whether or not he should instigate a makeshift therapy session. It hadn’t boded too well for him in the past, that much was true, but he couldn’t help but feel like Brendon was in dire need of someone to talk to. So, at the risk of getting punched square in the jaw, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Look, I know that pep talks are Rollins’ thing,” he started, making Brendon shift his attention from the assassin to the Hound, “but when it comes to being a good listener and giving sound advice, I’d like to think that I’ve pretty much got that in the bag. Ambrose is good for if you’re looking for someone to get you drunk. And possibly arrested.”

Brendon wheezed at Roman’s last comment and – realising that he was now unlikely to get himself out of the forthcoming conversation – moved towards the wall so that he could rest his back against it.

“What I’m saying is,” Roman continued, outstretching both hands, “if you wanna talk about your brother, or your family, or anything from your past, I’m always here. Full confidentiality – I wouldn’t tell a soul. And I know you have this whole enigmatic, emotionless thing going for you, but sometimes… sometimes even enigmas need someone to vent to.”

“And you’re willing to be my guy?” Brendon asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Roman nodded. “If you trust me enough to let me be, yeah. It’s just that I can tell how much having him here is affecting you – even if you weren’t expecting it to, or didn’t want it to. And I’d hate for you to self-implode over this.”

Brendon let the words sink in, staring at Roman’s combat boots as his mind worked and he tried to make a decision over whether or not he should open up to his colleague. He knew that if he did, it would absolutely stay between the two of them; Roman was an incredibly private person, so he understood Brendon’s need for secrecy to be held.

He also knew that speaking about it to someone would make him feel better. Hence, he said screw it and accepted the offer for a psychotherapy session.

Brendon explained everything to Roman. Everything from how his father left their mother while she was pregnant with him, to their childhood, to Mason running away and getting involved with Hydra, to eleven months ago when the Director informed him of his brother’s work as The Phantom Warrior, to when he faked his death so that he could look for him and get the answers he’d been wanting his entire life, and everything in between.

When he was finished talking, he drew in a deep breath and started cracking his knuckles, while Roman arched his brows and let out a low whistle.

“Man,” the Hound grumbled, “talk ‘bout tragic backstories.”

Brendon scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

Roman’s facial expression morphed into a frown as a realisation just then dawned on him. “Wait, you said Mason’s alias is ‘The Phantom Warrior’?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that the name of the guy who killed (Y/N)’s-“

“Yes.”

“So your brother was-“

“A major part of all of the events that unfolded over the last year and a half?” Brendon spoke with a straight face and an emotionless tone, pushing himself up from the wall to stand upright. “Yes.”

“Shit,” Roman muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his long, slick hair.

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Brendon remarked, glancing once more at Mason, who was still asleep.

Roman wasn’t finished with the conversation, however, and so continued with his pressing questions – he was too intrigued now to even worry about a potential punch coming his way.

“I’m sorry, uce, but I gotta ask…” he started, looking for any signs of non-compliance from Brendon; when he didn’t get any – only an expectant look from the brooding agent – he continued, “This guy practically ruined (Y/N)’s life. Yours too. And considering that she clearly means-“

Brendon tensed slightly, and Roman halted his speech immediately, trying to find the words to rephrase his sentence and avoid the situation from escalating to an unpleasant one. When he found them, he proceeded.

“-she’s obviously significant part of your life, and you swore to protect her and all that. So, if you’re not interested in having Mason as your brother and if you know all the pain he’s caused, why did you blow up that jet and come on this mission to find him?”

The other agent sighed tiredly and rubbed both hands over his face, shutting his eyes for a moment before answering.

“It’s a very complicated reason. And a personal one. But the gist of it is that I need answers,” Brendon spoke, pivoting his head to look through the glass at his brother, who was showing signs of waking up.

Mason slowly raised his head, blinking away the traces of sleep and squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light. When he was fully awake, he focused his gaze on the glass in front of him. Even though it was a one-way window, he seemed to know exactly where to look and somehow, he locked eye contact with his brother.

“And he’s the only one who can give them to me.”

~

There was a clang of porcelain against metal as a plate with a sandwich on it and a mug of coffee was all but tossed onto the side table in the cell, next to the prisoner. Mason’s eyebrows arched as he looked down at the food, somewhat surprised that he was being done such a kindness.

Not too long after, his hands were freed from the restraints holding them in place, and he hurriedly rubbed the skin around the area where he’d been bound to alleviate the irritation there.

“Eat,” a hard, cold voice demanded, its owner taking up residency of a steel chair that he’d brought into the room with him.

Tossing a fleeting glance at his brother, Mason made haste of reaching for the sandwich, only then realising how utterly famished he was; he hadn’t eaten in days. He took a giant bite out of the meal he held in his hand and started chewing; he could sense Brendon’s eyes on him, so he turned to look at him.

“It’s rude to watch people eat,” he remarked through a mouthful of food.

“It’s also rude to murder innocent people and leave their daughter an orphan,” Brendon countered, venom in his tone despite it being calm, “so I guess we’re both assholes, huh?”

Mason stopped chewing, twitched his eyes and swallowed before addressing his brother. He tilted his head slightly. “Why do I get the suspicion that there’s an underlying context to your last comment that I’m unaware of?”

Brendon didn’t reply, leaving the assassin to attempt to piece together his own version of an explanation. Mason studied Brendon for a little bit as his thoughts ran rampant, then when it clicked, he let out a short, smug laugh.

“Oh, my god,” he scoffed, leaning back in his seat, “Brendon, did you find yourself a girl?”

The teasing tone of his brother’s question pissed Brendon off, and he had to fight hard not to swing his fist again. Instead, he summoned his anger into his words.

“Watch yourself,” he warned.

The threat was clear and unwavering, and capable of summoning fear into even the mightiest of men. But Mason’s brotherly instincts were clouding his mentality.

“Is she cute?” he asked.

“Mason-“

The assassin held up his hands in defence, and made an innocent face. “Hey, I’m just askin’ normal questions, here. I imagine she’s totally-“

The rest of Mason’s sentence disappeared under the smash that resounded throughout the room – a result of Brendon swiping the coffee mug off of the table, clear across the room and into the pristine wall, painting it with a nasty brown colour.

“You don’t get to fucking ask questions about her. You don’t get to talk about her,” Brendon hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, “You ruined her life; took what mattered most to her. Just like you did to me.”

Mason’s smug and taunting demeanour faltered, then, and his body language and facial expression turned solemn.

“Brendon, like I’ve said before, I had good reason to run away and start over,” Mason reminded, looking at his brother with downcast eyes, “And if you’ll let me, I’d very much like to try and explain everything to you.”

“I’m not interested in your excuses,” Brendon spat, seating himself back down and pointing an accusatory finger at his brother, “I told you that I brought you here for one reason and one reason only.”

“And you haven’t told me what that is, yet,” Mason sighed, closing his eyes for a couple seconds.

“I need you to explain something to me.”

“What, exactly?”

Brendon ran his tongue all along the inside of his mouth and ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment. When he finally gathered himself, he took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“I don’t even know how to phrase all of this, but I… you and I… we’re not normal. I know we’re not,” Brendon managed to get out.

His words managed to pique Mason’s interest, and he straightened up, raising one eyebrow in a silent request for his brother to elaborate.

“We’re stronger. Faster. Smarter. Superior to the average person. It’s more than good genetics. It’s something…” Brendon sighed and threw his hands up to visualise his puzzlement, “something else. I know for a fact we’re not fucking superheroes, so… what the hell are we?”

Mason smirked lightly and jabbed a finger in the agent’s direction. “You left ‘insanely good-looking’ off of your list.”

Brendon’s jaw tightened. “Mason.”

The assassin sniggered under his breath and straightened himself up before wrinkling his face and holding his hands out to the side.

“So,” he started, inhaling deeply and then looking at Brendon, “you’re wrong. It is good genetics. Or bad genetics, depending on who you ask. Basically what I’m trying to say is… we have a mutant gene. We’re mutants, Brendon.”

“Bullshit,” was Brendon’s immediate response.

Narrowing his eyes and shaking his head in irritation, Mason scoffed. “Why would I lie?”

“If we were mutants, our abilities would be impossible to miss. We’d be a million times more potent than we are,” Brendon argued with a slight frown.

Mason nodded. “You’re not wrong there, little brother. We do have the mutant gene, handed down to us by daddy dearest, but it’s not the normal mutant gene, per se.”

Brendon’s forehead creased to signal his confusion, and Mason furthered his explanation.

“Alright, so, we need to backtrack a little bit. When dad was born, he inherited the gene from his father. But you see, this particular gene is different to the rest of the mutant one. It enabled the carrier with the ability to trigger the gene at will; essentially, they could chose when and where to summon their abilities. Whereas with regular mutants, they don’t have that choice. So, dad had that gene and he was what they refer to in the mutant world as an Anomaly. Anomalies are incredibly rare. Only ten in a billion.”

“And you expect me to believe that we were three under one roof?” Brendon scoffed, clear disbelief on his face.

“God no,” Mason snorted, shaking his head, “No, I only said that dad was one.” Brendon frowned, and Mason shifted in his seat. “Okay, I’m gonna explain everything in proper detail, which – ironically – is precisely the story I was trying to tell you earlier, about why I ran. You see, if you’d have let me speak yesterday, we could’ve saved a lot of time.”

Now growing agitated, Brendon huffed impatiently. “Just get on with it.”

“As you wish,” Mason smirked and winked at Brendon, who rolled his eyes, “Like I said, dad was an Anomaly – a mutant, and an incredibly smart one at that. He spent his teenage years attempting to make some kind of scientific breakthrough, and when the second World War rolled around and he’d learned about the scientific miracle that was Captain Steve Rogers and his transformation into a super-soldier… that was when he came up with the idea for – in his words – ‘his only great invention’… A mutant serum.”

“But that’s impossible,” Brendon shook his head, not yet buying into his brother’s story, “Mutants can’t be created. They have to inherit the gene.”

“Yeah, but dad found a way to bypass the law of inheritance. Think about it,” Mason once again held out his hands and leaned forward as much as he could, “if regular genes such as the ones for eye colour can be extracted or manipulated and used in in vitro fertilization, who’s to say that the same can’t be done with the mutant gene?”

“So you’re saying that dad found a way to harvest the mutant gene and what? Create the better version of the super-soldier serum?”

Mason nodded in confirmation. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. And he almost had the technique mastered, too. He spent hours experimenting on himself, using the gene to develop this- this,” Mason struggled to get the words out, as if speaking it left a bitter taste in his mouth, “potion, essentially, that would greatly increase the potency of his abilities. But, much to his fucking dismay, by the time he had gotten it right, he was too old to benefit from it. He injected himself with the serum, but its effects were minimal. He realised then that no such abomination of nature came without some kind of condition, and in this case, the recipient of the serum had to be considerably younger than a middle-aged man. And…” he hung his head down and scoffed before looking up at Brendon with a lopsided grin, “I’ll give you three guesses as to who his next test subject was.”

Brendon felt his chest constrict and he was certain that his heart skipped a beat. Swallowing the massive lump that had formed in his throat, he croaked out an answer.

“You?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Mason waved one finger in the air before pointing it at his brother. “We have a winner.”

“He used you as a test subject?” Brendon repeated, still taken aback at the revelation. He knew that his dad was a total douche, but this was beyond any douchiness he could ever imagine. Using his own son as a lab rat? That was pure evil.

Mason’s face hardened and he grinded his teeth as he recalled the memories from back then. “He fucking tortured me. Do you know how hard I begged, how much I cried for him not to do it? But do you think he cared? No, he didn’t care. He never cared about me, about you, about mom… all that mattered to him was his fucking vision.” The assassin let his head fall back and he laughed bitterly. “You know what he did? He made me train like a fucking cutthroat. Said it was ‘the only way to make sure that the serum was working’. I was seven, can you imagine that? Mind you, I passed every challenge he came up with, but that’s not the point. I was a baby.”

Brendon stayed silent as he listened, and remained silent for minutes after; the heaviness in the air was so strong that no speaking was required from either brother. Then, Brendon asked a question.

“And mom?” he lifted his gaze to meet his brother’s. “She just… let him do that?”

Mason smiled sadly. “She tried to stop him, but it was no use. He’d just berate her; yell about how she was getting in the way of his vision, and how he would be the one to change the world or some shit like that. It was a failed effort. But then she found out she was pregnant with you, and it was like there was this fire that had ignited in her – she said she couldn’t have two sons fall victim to such a tyrant, so she kicked him out. He didn’t wanna leave, obviously, but then I twisted his arm until it broke, and I said that if he didn’t, I would kill him. He was gone by morning.”

Brendon’s lipped twitched upwards ever so slightly. “Wow,” he mocked.

“Hey, you ain’t the only badass Urie out there,” Mason chuckled.

“So you’re the reason I never had a dad, hm?” Brendon spoke with a straight face, but somehow, Mason knew that he was (for the most part, at least) joking.

“If you wanna look at it like that, sure,” Mason shrugged, cocking his head to the side, “I saw it as saving your life – since, ya know, dad had the serum in his blood and passed the gene on to you when he, well, made you. But whatever.”

Brendon rolled his eyes and wheezed, standing up from the chair. “Please. I woulda kicked both of your asses. And that isn’t even a joke.”

Mason looked at his little brother – really looked at him – and saw the incredible man that he’d become and he couldn’t supress the proud smile that spread across his face, albeit a small one. “I’ll bet,” he muttered.

“So,” Brendon spoke, bringing the subject back to their father, “where’d he go after mom kicked him out?”

“Hell, if I know. I wasn’t too interested in keeping tabs on him, as you can imagine,” Mason grunted, “Although I do know where he ended up. Dead. Killed by The Winter Soldier in 1991.”

Brendon’s eyes widened infinitesimally as he pieced together the information. “1991. That’s the year you left.”

“I was too scared to run before; afraid he’d find me. So when I heard that he was dead… Fuck, I’d never felt such relief.” Mason seemingly stared into the distance, eyes clouded over with dreaminess as if he were reliving that glorious moment over and over again.

His reminiscing was short lived, however, since his brother’s icy voice tore it to shreds mere moments later.

“Why did Hydra have him assassinated? Why was he considered a threat?” he interrogated.

Mason blew a raspberry and shrugged. “Beats me. I assume it’s something to do with the serum, but I dunno. Could be something else entirely. I tried to find out, but they don’t take too kindly to their assassins – sorry, their weapons – asking questions. Makes them panicky. So eventually, I stopped asking and I stopped looking. I don’t care why they had him killed, to be totally honest. I’m just glad that they did.”

There was a tense silence that enveloped the room thereafter, one that allowed both brothers, but Brendon in particular, to fully digest the conversation that had just transpired.

The agent felt significantly less heavier; the uncertainty over his familial matters had always been a nagging, lingering thought at the back of his mind, and he was ever thankful that he had now managed to get rid of it. While the newly discovered information did pose a challenge, it was one that he welcomed dearly. Mutant gene or not, he was still – and always would be – one of the most badass motherfuckers on the planet.

Mason, on the other hand, was not feeling so confident.

He realised that Brendon had gotten what he’d wanted – an explanation – and now, Mason was of no use to him. The assassin had no idea what to expect next and so was understandably anxious.

“Brendon?” he knitted his brow. “I’ve given you what you wanted from me.”

“Yeah,” Brendon said emotionlessly, with a slight nod, “you have.”

“So… where do we go from here?”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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@phoenixsong16

[divagonzo]

HI, its me again with the ? about eyebrows and how shes rude to people. on your blog again 2 vent. I DON'T UNDERSTAND PEOPLE WHO TRY TO JUSTIFY THE BOOK RELATIONSHIPS AND/OR CHARACTERS, usually y harry/hermione ACTUALLY(hah) MAKES SENSE OR HOW DRACO IS A REDEEMABLE BADBOY(lol) or why draco and hermione should b together despite them never really EVER having a conversation. also he's a nazi?? sooo. AND THEN THEY SOURCE THE FILMS?????? how can people be so wilfully ignorant and unbelievably stupid

Evenin’ Nonnie. Biscuit?

I will take these one at a time, just for my own sorting and all. Might as well get comfortable since this might take a spell.

For the first bit, where people try and justify The Chosen one with The Bookworm, I think much of it is a trope, where the Hero gets The Girl (And for many stories, this is the case. It just didn’t happen in this one.

Those who ship such? Sure. NP. But please stay in your lane. (like one of the wonderful mods for @smutty-claus whom I adore and is incredible.) I’ve read plenty of this particular ship and for various reasons, I don’t see it personally (much of it coming down to personalities but also how each copes with trauma and how that could affect a romantic partner) but then there are plenty who read the same things and would disagree with me. I even have a dear friend of mine who has written Golden Trio fic and I like how he makes the dynamics work and also plausible. (I won’t mention who but @nightfalltwen knows who I am talking about!) I could read their stories time and time again. (Oh right, I have.)

This friend also said that I am the only writer who they will read Ron & Hermione together, because I have both of them flawed and also working together. To me, that is an outstanding compliment.

I think what sticks in my incisors the most is that when I come across a fic of The Chosen One and The bookworm in a romantic relationship, Ron is utterly discounted, bashed, and otherwise trashed in it and that bothers me. Alas, instead of being a tosser and whining, I nope out and go about my day/weekend.

Ah, the Ferret. Yes, I do find it disheartening where so many fall and believe the trope of “the girl saves the asshole boy from his own bad choices” which I disagree with completely because it’s not her job to take responsibility for him. He’s his own (eventual) man and can be responsible for his own decisions. I’ve written fic involving him but also a few steps on his redemption path - which I see is his own journey and not the responsibility of anyone to make him do it.

When I see Darko, I’m immediately reminded of this:

Source: Rare Historical Photos

Everything he did up to that point (say, before his sixth year) has been focused on prejudice, bigotry, genetic superiority, and being a git x 100. I can’t think for a moment that he didn’t participate in such atrocities, such as disposing of prisoners, tormenting those for information, or other nefarious actions. I do think that he was thrown in above his head and realized that, “Oh, shit. I’m in way too deep!” and secondly realized, “Fuck, I’m in deep trouble. Help?”

There was zero contrition on his part to not continue to advocate for the side in question, even after he was rescued in the RoR and nearly immolated and owed his life to Harry - and still turned around and betrayed them (or attempted to before Ron punched him in the nose.)

For actual redemption? He’d have to do it himself (it’s a personal responsibility and not a saving grace, even if he was included in it) and work towards being a better man. No one can make him change. He has to want it himself and work on it himself.

I find it personally distasteful, as a trope, where the girl saves the bigoted boy from his own bad choices. It’s not her responsibility to save him with her lurv.

Do I think he did redeem himself somewhat at some point? Yes, I do. Do I think it’s a saint now, 19 years later? No. Some bells can’t be unrung. He has to live with the fact that he tried to kill multiple people (and failed only by sheer dumb luck) but that’s the absolutely most minimum bar set for being a human.

And those actions are why I personally think that Ron and Hermione would never forgive him and would be civil and polite only for their children’s sake. Harry’s welcome to participate in radical forgiveness but expecting people to forgive you when you’ve stood aside and let ish go down, up to and including attempted murder…. and I couldn’t do it.

So to say he’s a bad boy with a heart of gold… I see it as being toxic romanticism and not seeing that as anything but fantasy will get girls (and some boys) hurt long-term.

Ah, yes. The ship I find distasteful. (it’s not a NOTP of mine but I will nope out of anything related since I find it squicky but won’t torment anyone over it. I find others more…. deserving of my ire.

As I mentioned above, I see that particular trope as being toxic in many ways. Yes, he’s considered a wizarding Fascist and a class 1 bigot. I cannot fathom how someone could see that quality of a person making it a romantic story with him and The Bookworm. I personally can’t, at least in the time frames that everyone writes in.

Why?

Hermione isn’t one to be very… forgiving of anyone who betrays her friends. This includes Harry and Ron (and others.) The only ones that I do see her actively forgiving (in actions but not words) are Ron and Harry (and maybe Ginny, off- page.) She is so damn stubborn that I can’t see her ever muttering the words I’m sorry unless it’s an absolute last resort. (Oh wow, that is me in a nutshell still. I digress.)

I don’t see her being content being a stay at home wife making babies. I don’t see her being content to be put on a pedestal and shown off - and then shoved aside when it’s not convenient. I don’t see her content being the doting wife, quiet in public and only fierce in private.

The writing of enemies to lovers fails this one completely because of the distinct differences is core beliefs. Hate s*x? Sure. That’s about it, if that.

If.

Finally, films. I will be forever salty over them and how fucked up Uncle Steve cocked them up. His atrocious writing and arrogance in thinking he could make the story better earns a kick in his shins and arse for fucking up such an incredible story (even if there are problematic elements involved.)

I think that Tom Felton is a sweetie and the early crushes that Eyebrows McGee had been cute but using personal chemistry and not character chemistry boggles me greatly. The movies aren’t canon but Uncle Steve’s fanfiction made into movies loosely based on the books (kinda like the bourne identity was just the book titles and little to no relation to the books themselves.)

Sadly, it seems that most people don’t have the attention span for reading a book and rather rush through a 2-hour movie and be done with it, as a passive viewer/consumer than actively reading for comprehension. I can’t make people look at canon and go, Hey, the movie got that wrong repeatedly.

I can yell into the void for years and not make a dent. So I don’t try that much unless asked.

[billy-batson]

"Here's a hint: I'm not telling you" or "Alright im gonna go cry" (or combined bc that has comedic potential) with Steve-O ❤❤❤

 prompt: also asked by anon: “Alright, I’m gonna go cry” w/ Steve

pairing: steve harrington x reader

rated: t for teen

warnings: cursing here and there

word count: 2647

read it on ao3

Winter time. Winter brought three–no, four good things: holiday season, new years celebration, cold weather, and, of course, your and Steve’s anniversary.

It had only been a year (god, it felt so much longer), since the two of you had begun as an actual thing; since you had become a real couple. The start had been…confusing at first, but after the first date, things had gone smoothly for you both.

As you baked his favorite type of cake from scratch, stirring the mix together as you dropped blue  and red food coloring into the bowl, you reminisced on how you’d both gotten to the point that you were at, now–with him driving down from his university an hour away to visit you.

You had met in science class, grouped together in a lab assignment with two other people: a stoner who clearly wasn’t interested in doing anything, and a quiet, shy girl who wasn’t going to do anything. He had been working on his personal essay for university all throughout class, leaving you to be the leader of the group. 

“Okay, then,” you said aloud after five minutes of silence, the stoner staring out into space, the quiet girl looking down at the table, and Steve, who everyone and their mother knew, nearly banging his head against the table in frustration as he tried to string sentences together to make them somewhat coherent. “I’m Y/N,” you offered, attempting to start conversation among them. The silence stretched on as no one else said anything. “Alright.”

“What’s another word for ‘being a winner’?” Steve had interjected, not looking up from his paper.

“Uh…successful?” you offered, and he mumbled out a quick thanks before returning to his writing. “No problem,” you sighed, knowing that this class would undoubtedly be total and utter crap because of the group you were now forced to work with every time there’s a lab. Dandy.

“We’re uh, introducing each other, right?” Steve said, glancing up from his writing quickly, “I’m Steve.”

That’s practically a given, you thought to yourself silently, but noticed as the quiet girl began to speak. “I’m Amy,” she said softly, her voice sounding unsteady, as though she were underwater.

“Todd,” the stoner said, waving a hand, as though they all couldn’t quite see him. “Fair warning, but lunch is right before this class and lunch time is break time, so I’ll probably be a crap partner anyway–”

“Well, we’re stuck together,” Steve had huffed, “So try to…skip a day or two when we have labs, okay? Don’t think it’d be smart to lose a limb over getting high.”

Todd’s eyes widened, “We can lose a limb in here?!”

Steve gave him a shrug, “I mean, anything can happen when you’re high and working with chemicals. Could even go blind.”

“Oh maaan, really?” Todd asked, collapsing in his seat. 

Steve nodded as though this was a one hundred percent proven fact, “Absolutely,” he said, looking to you and winking. 

Winking?

You couldn’t have been sure that it had even happened until it had, but you decided not to question it. Either way, he had helped you. Even though it was in a small way, it had worked.

You’d interacted throughout the month of September and October every so often that senior year in class and during labs, but you didn’t really know him, know him. You did know that he was better at science than he was at writing, and he was actually really nice, something that you hadn’t been expecting. You didn’t really believe the rumors that the popular jock Steve Harrington had changed from how he was before, but it seemed like they were true. He had changed, and you supposed that there was Nancy to thank for that.

Nancy Wheeler was a good girl. Nice, sweet–didn’t really talk to people outside of her social circle except for Jonathan Byers who, you supposed, she got along well with because her brother was best friends with his brother. He was the only exception.

You’d had a chance to really talk to Steve alone, though, for the first time, at the halloween party. The night had still been going strong, but it had been winding down for you. You’d gone out to the backyard to get a breath of fresh air, away from the smell of sweat and teenage boys and the faint smell of vomit, and were quickly met by noneother than–

“Steve,” you’d said softly, noticing that he was seated against the side of the house, his gaze watching the blue of the pool behind the fence. “What are you doing out here?” you asked curiously.

“Oh,” he said, “Y/N. Didn’t think a party like this was your kind of scene.”

“Yeah, well…” you sighed, sitting down next to him, crossing your legs. “It’s not. But I figured hey, it’s senior year. Might as well do one of the stereotypical teenage crap adults always say we do.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked curiously, to which you chuckled and shrugged.

“Like…uh. Get drunk, go to some…party thrown by some rich girl who’s parents are away for the weekend. Dance with some boys. That kinda stuff, I guess,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Huh,” he mused quietly before turning to look at you. “And have you done it?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Wait, what?”

“The list,” he said, “The ‘stereotypical things’.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling slightly embarrassed that your mind immediately went to another matter. “uh, can’t say that I’m drunk. Buzzed maybe. The drinks here aren’t that good anyway.”

“Yup,” Steve agreed, and you glanced back at him.

“And what about you? Have you done any stereotypical teenage things at this party?” you asked curiously.

“Well, I, uh–” he laughed, the sound coming out loud and harsh, “Can’t say it’s stereotypical, but I got in a fight with my girlfriend and I’m pretty sure she wants us to break up.” He’s quiet for a moment as he realized that the words were out in the air now, and he couldn’t call them back. “So there’s that.”

“Shit,” you huffed, shifting in your seated spot. “Sorry, Steve.”

“Nah,” he waved it off. “Nothing anyone can do ‘bout it. Been a long time coming, I think.” 

You didn’t say anything, feeling as though it wasn’t your place to speak. He seemed to want to vent, in any case.

“She said she didn’t love me,” he continued, “That whatever we have–had?–is bullshit.”

Yikes.

“Jesus,” you sighed. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” he stated, “Yeah. It sucks.” He went silent for a moment and said in a deadpan tone, “I think I’m drunk.”

You laughed at that, “Yeah, I think so, too.”

He laughed along with you, almost self deprecatingly, you think, and he says, “My girlfriend probably wants to break up and here I am, drunk and laughing about it. That seems fucked up to me, is it fucked up to you?”

“Just a bit,” you tell him, a wide smile on your face. “Just a lil.”

“Christ, what happened to your face?” you questioned a few days later when you had a lab together. He had bruises just about everywhere, and you’re pretty sure that he has two black eyes.

“An asshole happened,” he huffed, almost collapsing into his chair across from you as the other students came into class. 

“Yeah, well,” you said, your tone deadpan, “You look like shit.”

“Oh, well thanks,” Steve said sarcastically. 

“Hair’s still good, though,” you say to him, slightly perplexed, “Oddly enough.”

“My hair is always good,” he told you, clearly flaunting it as he ran a hand through it, causing for you to laugh ever so slightly, shaking your head with incredulity.

“You’re an idiot, Steve.”

He had asked you out on a not-date during the thanksgiving break, inviting you out to an ice skating rink. 

“Is this supposed to be a date?” you teased him, knowing that the moment you got him to think that this was explicitly not a date would mean that you’d be able to keep your feelings for him under wraps. If he didn’t think this was a date, then you could think it wasn’t a date. Dating was complicated, and you didn’t want to make things complicated. You wanted to keep things simple, especially since he and Nancy had just broken up after nearly a year together. It’d only been a few weeks since then, and you figured that he needed longer in order to not make you seem as though you were “the rebound”.

If he was even interested in you in that way, that is.

“Pfft, no,” Steve replied, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. He deadpanned, asking quickly, “Why? Do you want it to be? Is that what you want–”

“I’ll go to the rink with you,” you tell him before he can finish his questions, not wanting to complicate things. “You’re paying, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered, and you nodded. 

“Cool!” you said, “So it’s a not-date.”

“It’s a not-date.”

Later, it turned out, that the “not-date” quickly turned into just a regular date – although neither of you had noticed it. You had had to hold his hand (clinging onto him totally in the beginning, but moving down to just his hand) in order to keep yourself from falling onto the cold ice (which you had already managed to do before an abundance of times; dragging him down with you every time). At some point, the songs that they were playing became more calm, more soothing, and before you knew it, they were playing specifically songs for couples.

Neither of you had noticed that everyone around you was a couple until you’d pointed it out, finding it odd that everyone had seemed to be in pairs–

And just like that, you fell yet again, this time with Steve landing on the ice before you, and you going down right after him. He attempted to reach out to catch you, which resulted in you collapsing onto his chest, the wind knocked out of both of your bodies as he winced.

“I am so sorry!” you said flusteredly, attempting to get up and off of him.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Steve said as you sat back on your knees, the skate only slightly digging into your back legs.

“Crap, I feel so bad,” you said, trying not to blame yourself but seriously failing. 

“Seriously, Y/N,” he said, chuckling as he stood up onto his feet, skates touching the ice once again. “I’m fine.”

You paused, chewing on your lip slightly. “Thank you,” you said in recognition of his efforts to catch you, which was at an expense to him.

“No problem,” he said.

December rolled around before you knew it, and Steve was up to something.

“Alright, what are you planning?” you questioned, narrowing your eyes as you sat with him during lunch at the local fast food restaurant.

“You’ll see,” he said, not giving away anything as he continued to write in his notebook.

“Ugh, can I at least have a hint? Something?” you asked curiously, hating not knowing about something.

“Okay, okay, here’s a hint,” he said, looking up from his paper to look at you. “I’m not telling you.”

“Steve!” you said in a clipped tone, smacking him on the shoulder gently. “You’re being dumb again.”

“Y/N, you’ll see, okay?” he said, “But I guess I can give you a little hint. I guess.”

“Okay, okay, what is it?” you asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna take my girlfriend out somewhere she’ll like,” Steve said coyly, and you felt your heart drop for some weird reason.

“Your girlfriend?” you asked, wondering when he and Nancy had gotten back together, and feeling slightly dumb that you hadn’t realized that he was dating someone before. It was dumb, but you had thought that you guys were–

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, bringing his palm to his forehead. “Crap. Forgot to ask.”

“Ask what?” you questioned.

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Okay, okay, wait, wait –” Steve said as he handed the envelope to you as you sat across from one another on his bed. “You read it.”

“Steve, you’re being a baby,” you teased him, taking the envelope from his hands anyway. “It’ll be fine, alright?”

“Yeah, but–” his face darkened with worry for a moment, and he forced a nervous laugh out. “Alright, I’m gonna go cry.”

“Alright, alright, don’t be a baby,” you said, practically tearing the envelope open. You pulled out the letter from inside, skimming past the Dear Steve Harrington at the top and searching for the magic words. As you expected, they were there. Just to mess with him, though, you looked back at him, your face falling ever so slightly. “Oh, Steve,” you said softly. 

“What?” he asked nervously. “What’s it say?” He grabbed for the letter, his eyes scanning the paper quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you said slowly, building his anticipation, “That you’ve been accepted to a nerd school!”

He looked back up at you, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Holy fuck, Y/N! Don’t scare me like that!”

You laughed, “What? I told you, didn’t I? I knew you would get in!”

“Shit,” he muttered, a breathless laugh passing from his lips. He smiled at you, now, wrapping you in a bear hug. 

“You did it!” you say, rubbing his back reassuringly. “I told you so.”

He sat back away from you for a moment before pressing his lips to yours, his warm, soft lips coming into contact with yours. Still, just like the first time, you get goosebumps as you feel that electric feeling run through your veins yet again.

“I love you,” he laughed in between kisses, “So fucking much.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you laughed with him, smiling as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. “I love you, too.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard a door close shut behind you just as you pulled the cake out of the oven, your eyes lighting up as you saw who was there.

“Steve!”

He had rushed to you and you had practically jumped into his widespread arms, him spinning you around as you pressed kisses all across his cheeks.

“Ooh, I missed you so much,” you said, still holding onto him tightly as he dropped you back down to the floor.

“I missed you, too,” he said, pulling the two of you apart for a moment so that he can look at you. “I still got the most gorgeous girlfriend in the world. Everyone else is dying of envy.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, pulling him down by the lapels of his shirt so that you can kiss him, re-familiarizing yourself with the softness of his lips. You missed this. You missed kissing him, hugging him, having him close by. “I love you,” you said softly, looking up into his eyes as you pulled away slightly, for nothing if not to stare at him. It had been so long since you’d seen him – since late September, maybe? At the start of the college semester? But now, now he was here, and you were together again, just like before. Just like always.

“I love you, too,” he said, cupping your face in his hands before pressing another kiss to your lips. He broke away from you for a moment to sniff the air, saying, “You baking?”

“Uh,” you glanced back to the purple colored cake which sat on the stove, cooling from having just been taken out of the oven, and you said, “Yeah. Didn’t get the chance to frost it, though–”

“No, no, we can do it together,” he said, narrowing his eyebrows as though it was ludicrous that you would do it alone.

“Yeah?” you asked, surprised at the offer. “Didn’t know that you liked to help in the kitchen.”

He shook his head, “Nah. With you, though?” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’d do anything.”

a/n: thanks for reading! i love him and ended up making this longer than i thought, lmao. (and i made the gif but i digress,) if you enjoyed, please leave a comment / reblog!

tagging: @donnaatroy @keithstellations @dana-in-wonderland

[wanderingtycho]

In From the Heat, Chp. #1

Heyo! So if you’ve given a cursory glance to my page, you’ve probably noticed I’m infatuated with the Sansby pairing(though to be honest, I’m pretty much in love with Sans being shipped with anybody, its almost unhealthy how much I like his character. Almost.) Anyways, the particular idea of Sans and Grillby dating/developing a relationship stuck in my head, so I’ve been writing up a story about it for a couple months now. I write really slowly, alright? 

So this will be the first chapter of many, not sure how long it’ll end up being, knowing me probably somewhere between 10 or 100. If you’re as into this sorta thing as much as I am, be sure to eagerly anticipate more! 

(Note: This story will become NSFW at some point, eventually, cant just dole out the smutty bits right away now can I?) 

(Second Note: Despite the title of this story being “In From the Heat”, the concept of skeleton-heat will not be mentioned or implemented in any capacity, I apologize both for this disappointment and the fact I am rubbish at coming up with names for my stories.)  

Cheers, folks. :)

-Tycho

The clattering of chair legs skittering across his recently polished floors caused Grillby to sigh under his breath, the sound akin to a bonfire caught in a stiff breeze, adjusting his glasses and turning away from the line of taps to face his restaurant. The interior of the cozy dive was dimly illuminated by soft glowing bulbs overhead, given that the fire monster was used to lighting his establishment himself, paying extra for brighter fixtures seemed like a waste. At this time of night, or rather early morning, there were typically only two monsters to be found hanging around the bar. Grillby, naturally, and his self-proclaimed most loyal customer. 

Sans was facing away from Grillby with one arm resting against the bar-top, his other dedicated to causing the wooden furniture to dance and scuttle across the room, blue energy flowing off the skeletons fingers like turgid mist curling around the tables and chairs. It was a rather surreal sight, watching the beaten furnishings scuffle and tap about like they possessed life of their own, a trick Sans liked to show off to whatever patrons happened to still be conscious.

Grillby watched the display for a few moments, eyes smoldering slightly in amusement, clearing his throat loudly to draw Sans’ attention. The skeleton slowly turned his skull to look over his shoulder, lolling to the side and leering up at Grillby with an inebriated grin, pupils sputtering with an unstable blue aura.

“h-hey...hey grillbz! check it out! i can plllaay musssicl chrrairs alllll by mmmsrlrf!” Sans slurred excitedly, waving his hands in lurching gestures, causing the furniture to spin and dance with wilder gyration. Grillby repressed a chuckle and placed his hands on the bar, splaying his fingers and leaning closer to look down his nose at Sans, spectacles reflecting the beaming light set above their heads. 

“Sans...it’s quite late, shouldn’t you be heading home?” he asked, speaking in a cultivated genial tone, voice crackling ethereally. Sans made an inarticulately dismissive noise, swishing his hand like an orchestra conductor, slouching up against the bar and curling his free hand around a bottle. 

“psssh...nah, it aint...that late. only been like...what...ten hourrssh? ahm praa-tic-allyyy...teetotal ovah eer! whatre ya tryin ta get ridda me err somethin?” Sans asked with a dry, rasping laugh, tipping his skull back and downing the remainder of booze. Grillby furrowed what would be his brow and absently started wiping up spilt liquor, watching as Sans started nursing his empty bottle, merriment fading as the corners of his grin tilted dejectedly. Grillby rested his elbows on the bar and inclined his head slightly, flames sparking down the base of his neck as the fire monster masked his concern, eyes narrowing as Sans sank lower into his seat.

“Of course not, Sans. I’ve never needed to kick you out before...you always drag yourself away to see to Papyrus.” Grillby said casually, smiling assuredly to himself, mentioning Papyrus was a strategy he employed in encouraging Sans to cut himself off. Sure enough, the skeleton looked up sharply, face suddenly gaunt and chagrined. He groaned and slumped himself over the bar-top, mumbling something guttural and inaudible into his sleeve, Grillby leaned closer and raised an incendiary eyebrow.

“Hmmm? What was that, Sans?” he asked, carefully extracting the empty bottle from the skeletons grasp, gingerly mopping up some of the spilt beverage near his skull. Sans’ pupils dragged themselves to the fringe of his sockets, staring up at Grillby with a pensive light, a dreary sigh slipping out from between his teeth.

“ ...i said...i kinda...don wanna go home to paps right now...” Sans muttered, exhaling heavily through his absent nose, dropping his gaze and missing Grillby’s incredulous reaction. The fire monsters eyes widened behind his glasses, raising a hand to cover where his mouth would’ve been, his flame equivalent of hair writhing in surprise. Sans had never expressed anything but an utterly glowing affinity for his brother, even during the bleakest most introspective drunken monologues, he always firmly asserted that Papyrus was a bastion of encouragement and optimism to live with. Grillby pulled up a small stool he kept for short breaks between rushes, seating himself to reach eye level with Sans, intently observing his patrons strange mood.

“Well now, that’s...unexpected. Have there been any matters of contention between the two of you lately? I mean, aside from your well established aversion to doing laundry?” Grillby asked, smirking as best he could without lips, trying to set Sans at ease by gently needling his habit of leaving dirty socks wherever he went. Sans snickered half heartedly, pushing himself up on his elbows and raising his skull, looking furtively around the room seemingly in a direct effort to avoid meeting Grillby’s eyes. 

“nah...its nothin like that...me an paps are doin fine. its just...as much as i love the guy...hes always on my case for goin here.” Sans replied glumly, lurching backwards in his seat and straightening his spine as much as he could, haughtily placing one hand on his chest  and the other on his hip in a mocking semblance of the taller skeleton. “SANS! YOU SPEND FAR TOO MUCH TIME CONSUMING ALCOHOL AND ENGAGING IN THIS SO CALLED ‘PARTY HARD’ LIFESTYLE AT GRILLBY’S! YOU SHOULD FOCUS MORE ON YOUR CAREER, OR MORE ACCURATELY, YOUR DISMAL LACK OF ONE!” he imitated spiritedly, his normally subdued and quiet voice bizarrely dissonant to Papyrus’ bombast and perpetual righteous indignation. 

Grillby laughed aloud despite himself, he had to admit that even when drunk off his bones, Sans could pull off a pretty uncanny impression of his brothers mannerisms. Sans’ eyes seemed to brighten a bit, corners of his smile tugging up as he listened to the wispy chuckling, settling back down to his previous lack of posture. Grillby rested his chin atop his hands as he thought of an answer, most of the time simply listening to Sans’ venting set things right, though their conversations were rarely one sided. This was the first time Sans had conveyed any sort resentment towards Papyrus however, even as a fairly jovial parody, Grillby could tell Sans was genuinely vexed by his brothers attitude on the matter.  

“Papyrus is a fine lad, I can tell how important he is to you, and I get the impression the sentiment is mutual. He has an...obtuse way of expressing himself, always trying to improve aspects of his life, especially the things he cares deeply about. It’s a positive approach to have down here, pushing the hardest for the things you love the most, and that means you Sans.” Grillby said, trying to soothe Sans with pretty much what he already knew, Papyrus was his only family after all. Sans nodded a few times, placing his knuckles against his temple and rubbing in small circles, generating the grating sound of bone against bone. Most monsters found the noise irritating or even disconcerting, but Grillby had gotten used to hearing it years ago, understanding the habit as a comfort thing amongst skeletons.  

“yeah, yeah i know...i just wish hed gimme less flak over hangin around here as much as i do.” Sans said, sighing and drumming his fingers on the bar, setting his jaw and shaking his skull. “i mean, its not like i drink cause i got nothin better to do, ya know? if all i cared about was getting trashed, i could just do that in the damn shed. i come here for a lot more than that.” Sans grumbled, the furniture around the room starting to dance less gracefully and more aggressively, magic automatically mimicking his thoughts. The skeleton braced one hand on the empty stool to his right, gesturing his left hand exaggeratedly, attempting to demonstrate whatever belligerent point he was working towards.

Grillby laced his fingers together and waited patiently for Sans to calm down before interjecting, eyeing him somewhat worriedly as the skeletons eye socket flickered a brief blue glow. “he just...doesnt get it, ya know? this is the one place in this frigid little town where i can at least try and relax. i cant go a hundred and whatever percent like him all the time, i deserve to spend a few hours around monsters who can actually get a joke, whats wrong with that ya know?!” Sans asked, voice growing tenser and more defensive, rolling his pupils and throwing up his hands in exasperation. Grillby drew a breath and reached a hand towards him, trying to placate the one sided argument before it escalated any further, jumping slightly in his seat as the skeleton unexpectedly slammed a hand down unto the bar. “uurghh! sometimes i just wish he could appreciate what helps me get through the day, ya know?! hell, it isnt even about getting drunk or crackin puns, i wanna tell him off and say the real reason i spend so much time here is just to see y-” 

Sans’ frustrated tirade came to an abrupt halt as his jaw snapped shut, light draining from his sockets and the animated objects he controlled clattering to the floor, resounding silence prevailing over the bar. Grillby sat stunned, eyes wide behind his glasses, staring at Sans as the skeleton stared back breathlessly. He’d never seen Sans get that worked up, and what he had been saying...Grillby wasn’t even sure what to make of it. The fire monster leaned backwards in his seat and appraised Sans warily, the skeleton frozen mid rant and looking rather shell shocked, eye sockets empty save for the vague panicked quivering of his pupils. As the wordless tension between them stretched further, Grillby racking his brain for an appropriate way to broach the silence, until Sans cleared his throat and let out a thoroughly unconvincing laugh. “hahaha...heh...ahem, uhhhmmm...welp. i uh...pretty sure ive had enough. think ill skip last call and...uh yeah...ya know...” he trailed off weakly, rasping his fingers together nervously and lowering his skull, deliberately breaking eye contact and moving to climb down off his seat.  

Grillby blinked, sensing Sans’ embarrassment and feeling a twinge of empathy, placing a hand over his wrist to stop him from leaving. “Sans...I’m flattered this place means so much to you, and you shouldn't have to keep that a secret, I’m sure Papyrus would understand if you explained it to him. You should be honest with those closest to you, even if you’re unsure how they’ll react.” Grillby said softly, giving the skeletons hand a reassuring squeeze, smiling comfortingly despite Sans being half turned away. Sans didn't respond immediately, he seemed to be frozen in place again, only this time there was significantly more conflict evident in his features. As if making a definitive choice, he turned back to face Grillby without actually raising his gaze, letting out a genuine chuckle.

“heh...heh, ya know somethin grillbz? youre totally right...ya always are. guess its just a talent of yours, getting through this thick skull a mine. heheheh...well, id love to take off and let you close up, but i think im gonna have a problem walkin home.” Sans said, tone a confusing mixture of grateful and cryptic, Grillby raised a quizzical eyebrow and leaned a bit closer. 

“Oh? And why would that be? I’ve seen you manage while far drunker than this.” he said somewhat jokingly, unintentionally dropping his voice to a lower register, skepticism increasing as he noticed Sans’ mischievous grin stretch wider.

“true, unfortunately, when it comes to pedestrian type stuff...” he said, letting the sentence hang and allowing Grillby’s suspicion to mount further. There was a sudden, abrupt popping sound that broke the silence between them, Sans casually lifted something into view and laid it on the bar-top. Grillby blinked, nonplussed, before sighing heavily and hanging his head. Sans snickered and snapped his fingers comically, smiling ear to ear as Grillby picked up his detached leg in one hand, the skeletal limb slack with a fuzzy pink slipper hanging off the toes. “...turns out, i dont have a leg to stand on!” he concluded emphatically, slapping the bar-top and screwing his eyes shut as laughter wracked him, wheezing through his teeth as Grillby silently walked around the bar to stand in front of him. The fire monster slung Sans’ leg over one shoulder, tapping his forefinger against the bone as he waited for Sans’ pun induced fit to subside, staring down at the skeleton with a long suffering expression affixed to his vague features. 

“If nothing else, I appreciate that you didn't pull this stunt with any customers around. This might come as a shock, but most monsters are somewhat unsettled by your ability to remove and reattach your ligaments at will, nullification tends to come across as ghastly rather than comically endearing.” Grillby said dryly, keeping his expression deadpan as Sans wiped away a bright blue tear from his cheekbone, mustering enough composure to lower himself to the floor and lean on his remaining leg. He looked up at Grillby with a self satisfied grin plastered across his face, the height difference between them doing little to change their dynamic, the fire monster unflappable and consummate to the skeletons persistent comedic antics.  

“aw come on grillbz, youre exaggeratin, monsters love that stuff. ive literally danced on my own skull before and everybody went dead quiet they were so impressed.” Sans said, chuckling as Grillby stared down at him impassively, holding out the length of bone for Sans to reattach. Sans raised a hand and wagged a finger, cocking an eyebrow and smirking up at Grillby, shaking his skull from side to side. “nu uh grillbz, im in no shape to put myself back together, guess youre gonna have to gimme a lift home.” Sans pushed the offered leg away and spread his arms, slumping against the stool at his back and grnning at Grillby expectantly, leading the bartender to sigh heavily and roll his eyes in resignation. He leaned down and wrapped his free arm around Sans’ torso, lifting the skeleton up and slinging him over his shoulder, grunting at the surprising amount of effort it took. Sans was unusually heavy for being made of nothing but bone, perhaps it had something to do with blue magic, or maybe he was just out of shape. Grillby worked his way around the chairs scattered haphazardly across the room, reaching the front door and trying to manipulate the handle with Sans’ leg still in his grasp, huffing exasperatedly and holding the limb in front of Sans’ inverted face. 

“Sans, would you please hold your leg so I can open the door?” he asked ruefully, holding Sans steady as the skeleton chuckled over his shoulder.

“sure thing grillbz, thisll gimme a real leg up.” he snarked, causing Grillby to run a hand down his face tiredly, holding back a snicker of his own as not to encourage any more leg based humor. The fire monster tugged open the door to his bar and stepped onto the streets of Snowdin, locking the latch behind him as he trudged out into the snow, pausing a moment to look around and take in the frigid morning. Snowdin was the textbook definition of a postcard town, his storefront gave the perfect view of the towering woods only yards away, swathes of snowflakes dancing and bouncing through the air as wind swept over the drifts. The neon glow of the sign above his head cast a solid orange aura over the snow at his feet, looking up at his own name emblazoned in such contrast to the quaint hamlet, Grillby wondered for the umpteenth time if it was a bit too...flashy for a place like Snowdin. Sans stirred under his arm, letting out a yawn and sniffing through his absent nose, absently picking bits of rock off the bottom of his slipper.

“thinkin bout your sign again, grillbz? im tellin ya, theres nothin wrong with it, everything else is way too dolled up in that holiday junk. yours has its own flair to it, its fitting, ya know? considering this place would have, like, zero nightlife without you.” Sans muttered, blinking and shaking his skull as an errant snowflake flew into his eye socket, Grillby chuckled and turned away from his bar to start walking up the street. Sans was always a staunch supporter of his business decisions, insisting that any doubts Grillby himself might have had were unfounded, the reassurances he gave so freely had been especially welcome when the bartender had first started out.

As Grillby crunched his way through the frost, the flames along his hands and head shuddered as chilling winds swirled around him, excited by the change in air temperature and oxygenation. Grillby sighed to himself as snowflakes melted before they could reach the surface of his body, steam steadily flowing off of him as the winter seemed to recede away, it was something he was used to at this point. Being a fire monster, Grillby had never experienced cold, the concept had just never factored into his life. Even living in Snowdin, where frigid snow and ice were a constant, he could walk about town and the adjacent wilderness in his normal attire without feeling so much as a shiver. Sometimes, watching his neighbors and customers wrapped in layers of coats struggling for warmth, Grillby wondered what it would be like to feel something other than pervasive and intrusive heat all of the time. With a start, he realized he’d almost walked straight past the skeleton house while he’d been daydreaming, shaking his head and internally chastising himself. What a way that would’ve been to end the night, blankly wandering into Waterfall with Sans passed out in his arms. 

Grillby approached the front porch and climbed unto the stoop with a huff, somewhat winded from lugging the skeleton slung over his shoulder across town, taking a moment to look up at the snowflakes twisting along the string of red and green lights draped over the large abode. Sans had been pretty quiet during the walk, somewhat surprising given how much he’d been drinking, Sans was anything but a meek drunk. Maybe he was just tired, Grillby could accept that easily, it was one of the things he and his best customer had in common. To that point, Grillby stifled a yawn and lifted Sans off his shoulder, beginning to lower him to the ground. “Alright, here we are Sans. Do try and get some rest, and please avoid losing track of any of your appendages again-” Grillby stopped mid-sentence as his head was suddenly jarred forward, nearly causing him to lose his balance. He looked down to see that as he’d been lowering him, Sans had wrapped his arms around his neck, leaving him hanging off the taller monster with only a half foot of space between their faces. 

“grillbz, wait...before ya go i...i got somethin i need to tell you.” Sans said, pupils zipping sluggishly yet erratically as he looked up at Grillby, voice strained with something the bartender hadn’t heard from him before. Nervousness, his grin wider and more anxious than normal, Grillby thought he might’ve seen a bead of sweat on his skull. Sans inhaled slowly and let out a shaky breath through his teeth, agitating the thin aura of steam curling around the flames of Grillby’s jaw, steeling himself and mustering the nerve to continue talking. “whew...okay, so...you and i have known each other a real long time, right? heh, probably feels a hell of a lot longer to me than it does to you.” he said, chuckling sadly to himself at a joke Grillby didn't fully understand, but the fire monster chose to stay silent and see where Sans was going with this. “look...im not perfect, got a mountain of problems hangin over my skull...hehehe, alright, that one wasnt on purpose. but seriously, im kinda a mess. dont take good care of myself, can barely hold down a job, and i keep it all buried deep...especially the worst stuff. undyne, alphys, asgore...even paps. i keep em all in the dark, smilin and jokin like nothins ever wrong...like im always okay.” Sans said, tone quiet and drained, barely above a whisper. Grillby could see a terrible weariness flicker within Sans’ eyes, and with half a thought of hesitation, placed his arms around Sans’ waist to hold him closer. He’d heard Sans talk like this before, many times the skeleton had confessed to just how much a façade he maintained day to day, still it wasn't easy for Grillby seeing him so forlorn. 

Sans’ sockets widened as he felt Grillby’s arms wrap around his body, his soul pulsed at the warmth spreading through their clothing and seeping into his bones, dispelling the insidious and doubtful cold that gripped him. Looking up at Grillby, seeing the open care and concern in his fiery visage, Sans couldn't help but continue despite his instincts to drop the subject entirely. “the truth is...theres really only one time i feel...i dunno...like the world isnt about to end for the millionth time. when im sittin in that bar, feelin relaxed and safe and free to say whatever i want...when im talkin to you.” Sans said softly, able to scrape together enough confidence to look Grillby in the eyes as he spoke, catching a flicker of conflicted surprise in the bartenders gaze. Grillby stared down at Sans, feeling a strange tactile sensation as the skeletons fingers brushed the base of his neck, physical contact with other monsters was a rarity already but this...was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Listening to Sans admit his feelings for him though, that elicited a more familiar stirring within his soul, a smoldering affection tinged with nostalgia. Their nerves grew more strained as silence dragged on, Grillby uncharacteristically at a loss for how to respond, leaving Sans’ emotional honesty faltering and desperation mounting. Just as Grillby drew a breath to speak, Sans tightened his grip around the fire monsters neck, tilting his skull and setting his jaw determinedly. “screw it.” he muttered, pulling himself up and pressing his face against Grillby’s, two lipless mouths rasping together in some approximation of a kiss. 

Sans shut his eye sockets briefly and sighed as flames traced between and over his teeth, drinking in a heat and energy so much more alive than his own, his soul sparking joyously in reaction. Grillby’s eyes widened and words died in his throat, his flames shuddering at the chilling touch of bone, a fiercely draining yet exhilarating sensation racing into his soul. This...this must be what cold felt like, so utterly apart from what Grillby had always known, he likely would have been more fascinated than shocked if it weren't for Sans’ teeth locked into his mouth. As Grillby’s mind spun and soul shivered with a plethora of tumultuous emotions, Sans broke the kiss and opened his sockets again, looking at Grillby with a more genuine and assured smile than the skeleton had showed in quite a long time. “i..uh, i love you. a lot and uh, wow, that was...yeah. hehehe, welp...” he chuckled, trailing off as he let go of Grillby’s neck and dropped down onto the doormat, somehow managing to reattach his leg before landing heavily on his feet. Sans tugged open the door to his home and stepped inside the darkened entryway, looking up at Grillby with a strange light dancing in his pupils, caught between buzzing elation and anxious disbelief. “gnight grillbz, thanks for the lift home.” with that, the skeleton shut the door and left the bartender standing stock still on the porch, arms loose at his sides and brain still reeling. 

After a few moments, he heard the muffled yet still distinctively loud sound of Papyrus’ voice, likely chastising Sans for getting home so late. It went silent about a minute later, and Grillby spent a long while after staring at the door of the skeleton household, replaying what had just happened again and again. Eventually, he turned around and began shuffling back down the street, still deep in thought as he turned the key into the lock of his bar. Before walking in and setting about cleaning up for tomorrow, Grillby paused and focused on the icy wind swirling around him, watching as snowflakes twisted along the tongues of flame on his hands. He thought about Sans, and that warmth sapping invigorating cold pulsed out from his soul, sending a shiver throughout his body. Grillby shook his head, confusion and curiosity besetting him at these alien sensations, stepping dazedly into his establishment and locking out the frigid night behind him.